DISCLAIMER: would I need a disclaimer if I owned anything?
SUMMARY: time for a bit of Skinner. We all remember the suspicious circumstances of Frank's death, yeh? Well skinner has a brain in the beautiful shiny noggin of his.
A/NOTE: I feel the need for some Skinman :) time to refer back to my little blue book for this chapter. Oh, if you're adverse to slash fics (not that this is one) I am not to be held responsible should you brain land in the gutter during Skinner's interview with Mulder. A somewhat shorter chapter, but concentrated in goodness :D
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12:08am Saturday
Providence hospital
Washington DC, Virginia
Mulder sat along one of the many blue vinyl seats that lined the corridor of Providence Hospital. His fingers were laced tightly around one another and locked deeply under his chin. His teeth ground together whenever he moved his jaw and the knuckle of his thumb drove into his throat. Including this discomfort, he fought off the frustration of exhaustion.
He felt the need to stretch after sitting in the same place for so long. He felt the weight of his head again as he dislodged his fists from beneath his chin. The skin between his fingers peeled away from one another as he flexed each digit out. He looked down at his fading and weary jeans. A large patch of muddy red blood had developed from his knee done to his socks and had begun staining the heel collar.
Frank had left a mark, though the one left with Scully would be more difficult to remove.
Mulder felt the drying blood cling to the hair on his legs as he stretched the denim away. He quickly gave up and dismissed the stain. Sort it out later. The police collected their statement from scully a long time ago. It felt like a long time.
"Agent Mulder?" a woman's voice pulled him out of his reverie. He felt a hand press lightly on his shoulder. He looked up and found a white coat, a clipboard and a friendly face.
"We're all done. Agent scully is pretty adamant about leaving, but she would like to see you first." She offered a smile.
Mulder nodded his thanks. With a sigh, he unstuck himself from the clingy chair and made his way to the examination room.
He knocked once. Twice. Pushing his ear closer to the door, he heard his partners reply. He entered.
He found his partner hastily pulling her jacket on and pulling her hair out of her collar. He caught a glimpse of the white of the bandage around her wrist. He stared at her and wondered what part of her logic was responsible for the activities of the previous night. She looked up at him, and then quickly averted her own gaze.
"Mulder, I just want to go home." She tried to put her watch on her right wrist with eventual success.
Mulder felt his head nodding up and down, ever so subtly. The space between them was but a few feet, though it was more awkward now than he felt in certainly a long time. There was no way he could make her come to him without a well defined invitation.
He took a few steps forwards. She refused to look him in the eye. She was taking the flack for him, and she had been hurt. He turned his hands out to her. This was his invitation. She looked at every part of him but his face.
Eventually, she came forth.
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Saturday,
One week later
J Edgar Hoover building, Washington DC
Walter skinner sat behind his desk, scanning over the final report of the Turner case, before it would be signed off and filed away. He leant back into the comfort of his leather chair and tossed his glasses onto his desk casually with a metallic scrape across varnish. He was restless; he had been all week. He stood and escaped the confines of his furniture, finding comfort in the window to the outside world. He rubbed his chin.
It was hot outside. The streets cast an orange glow over everything. Except his office.
He sighed.
A knock disturbed him and he saw the head of his secretary, Arlene, poke through his door.
"Agents Mulder and scully to see you, sir."
He licked his teeth.
"Send them in."
He hadn't seen his agents in the building together since before the turner case. First it was Mulder on leave for weeks, now it was scully. He had to do some cleaning up when each agent had taken time off during the others injury. The rumour mill worked overtime with both agents on leave.
He actively listened to the sounds of his agents' entry to his office. The sound of the door scraping over the carpet and the click of the shutting. The world in front of him fell out of focus. He turned and slide back into his chair, his plucked his glasses from in front of him and gestured bluntly for the agents to sit. This would not be a brief meeting.
Scully was beginning her week of half days today. Her councillor recommended her return to her usual schedule; the one she had before Frank. Mulder was now back on full days; the first since the raid on the Turner compound. By next week, he hoped, things would return to the dysfunctional norm he associated with the agents who chased aliens and shadow governments.
He passed a glance to his agents.
"I'm glad you've both managed to get back to work."
"Thank you sir." Scully replied.
"I'm ready to sign this case as closed; I just need your signature agent scully." He opened her case file, turned it around and offered it across the desk to his right.
Scully reached across her body to get the pen with her right hand. She signed on the dotted line and planted the pen on the file.
"You may go agent Scully, I'll need to talk further with Mulder." Without comment, Scully stood and left them. as soon as the door clicked shut, skinner spoke.
"Whilst scully may not be able to recall the exact details of the events of last week, I know there is something you and her are not saying."
Mulder remained silent.
He picked up his pen and examined it with great interest.
"Agent Scully is right handed. It's how she draws her gun...and how she holsters it too." He looked across at the agent in front of him. A single tiny bead of sweat gave way and slid down his face from his temple. Mulder did not acknowledge it.
"Help me to understand Mulder..." He stood. Mulder watched him. For only a second, skinner swore he saw fear in the man's eyes. He walked around into the middle of the dim office, tipping his head; beckoning the agent to join him.
"You armed?"
"Yeah."
"Good. Over there." He pointed to an open space of wall. Mulder shot him an eyebrow, wondering what he was up to. Skinner stared back; Mulder went and stood by the wall, arms folded across his chest.
Skinner linked his fingers together in front of his torso, thumbs pointing up; tapping together.
"Help me to understand Mulder... " he wandered slowly forward till he stood toe to toe with Mulder. "How a woman like Dana scully..." he pushed his hands forwards into Mulder's stomach, until he moved back into the wall. "Drew her gun from behind her right side..." he grabbed Mulder's left wrist with his right hand whilst using the other to push him into the wall. He manoeuvred Mulder's hand to touch the right side of his own ribcage.
"And shoot the man with her left?"
Mulder and he stared at each other for a minute. He imagined Mulder was getting a rather disgusting taste of what this situation was like for scully.
"She's covering for you, isn't she?"
"Yes." Mulder whispered. He sounded anxious.
"You let her?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because... " he closed his eyes and shook his head, only once, as if fighting off a thought. He leant forwards towards his boss and lowered his voice till it was nothing louder than a breath.
"Because I didn't want to go to prison and leave her alone."
"Because she didn't want you to leave her, I think."
With a nudge, skinner backed away.
"Some detectives may accept the possibility two partners will inadvertently swap their sidearms, or that an assault victim may not remember the event, or the divine coincident that you happened to be in the area." He turned away and retreated to his desk and stood by the window again.
"But you won't." Mulder suggested, stepping away from the wall and into the centre of the room.
He sighed and licked his lips. His hands slid into the pockets of his tailored pants. A dime danced between his fingers.
"I will accept the validity and truth, of the case report sitting in that folder."
"Sir-" Mulder began.
"I'm done with you agent Mulder. You have work to do." He pulled the dime out and looked at the back: 1963. Ironic. Year of the Kennedy assassination.
He listened to the agents heavy footsteps approach the door, the click, the scraping across the carpet.
"Thank you."
The shutting of the door.
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Now to think of an ending. Go skinner, I love him :) reviews will be given a good and loving home in my inbox, I assure you. Peace and love philers! 3