From: susanf34@comcast.net   
      
   *NO ARCHIVE*   
      
      
      
   Title: Late Shift   
   Author: Susan   
   E-mail: susanf34@comcast.net   
   Classification: vignette, Skinner's POV   
   Spoiler: latter part of fourth season, cancer arc   
   Archive: No archive without permission.   
   Disclaimer: Sadly, these characters don't belong   
   to me.   
      
   Summary: All that matters is that a good friend   
   of yours is hurting.   
   *****************************************************   
      
   Late Shift   
   by Susan   
   ~~~~   
      
   12:13 am   
      
      
   You press the button and wait for the elevator to   
   take you up to his floor.   
      
   You know you really shouldn't be going over to   
   his apartment this late just as you know the   
   whole spiel about getting too close to the agents   
   that work under you.   
      
   And yet none of that matters to you right now.   
      
   All that matters is a good friend of yours is   
   hurting, and you need to make sure he's okay.   
      
   You walk down the hall and knock on the door.   
   "Agent Mulder? It's Assistant Director Skinner."   
      
   You wait for him to answer, but get no response.   
      
   Is he out somewhere getting into trouble, or is   
   he sitting in the dark closing himself off from   
   the rest of the world again the way he did when   
   she was missing?   
      
   You hope it's neither.   
      
   "Agent Mulder, open the door," you say in a louder   
   voice.   
      
   And then he does.   
      
   His shoulders are slumped, his face unshaven, his   
   eyes filled with fear, and you immediately notice   
   the bottle of vodka in his right hand. Thankfully,   
   it looks like he only drank about a fourth of it.   
      
   "Hey sir, come on in...join the party. I've got   
   a spot for you right over here," he slurs, pointing   
   towards nowhere in particular.   
      
   You walk inside, close the door, survey the room.   
   It's dark with only the television on, and you can   
   see his darkness too, rolling off of him in thick   
   black waves.   
      
   "It looks like you already started without me,"   
   you say, taking off your coat and sitting down   
   in the chair across from his couch.   
      
   He walks over to the couch, plops down on it.   
   "Scully's dying, you know," he blurts out as he   
   takes a swig from the bottle, then slams it back   
   down on the coffee table. Surprisingly, it doesn't   
   break.   
      
   You lean forward in your chair, study the broken   
   man in front of you, and try to think of the right   
   thing to say to him, but you can't, because you   
   feel like you're breaking too.   
      
   Scully's dying of cancer, and there's not a damn   
   thing you can do to stop it.   
      
   You tried to save her, and him too, but the deal   
   you made with the devil left you with nothing.   
      
   And them with even less.   
      
   "I know she is," you finally say, "but you can   
   save her, Mulder, just as you have before."   
      
   He stares at you then, his face drawn, his lids   
   heavy as he lays his head back against the cushion.   
   "I don't think I can this time," he says quietly,   
   his eyes closing as he finally gives in to his   
   exhaustion.   
      
   "Yes, you can," you say in the dark, grabbing the   
   blanket from the end of the couch and carefully   
   covering him up with it. Then you take the bottle   
   of vodka from his hand, carry it out into the   
   kitchen, and pour it down the sink.   
      
   When he wakes up in the morning, you know he'll   
   be angry with you for what you've done, and he'll   
   probably be embarrassed too, but right now none   
   of that matters to you.   
      
   All that matters is that you're here.   
      
   You're here because you need to be and because   
   she can't be.   
      
   And you're here for as long as it takes.   
      
   Finding the coffee in the cupboard, you start up   
   the machine, then pull out your phone and dial   
   the number that she gave you.   
      
   When she answers, you can hear the beeping of her   
   monitor in the background, but you make yourself   
   ignore it, and you tell her that you'll stay with   
   him to make sure he's okay.   
      
   She thanks you for what you're doing, and though   
   you're glad you can help, you wish you could do   
   more.   
      
   And you wonder if she wishes you could too.   
      
   The coffee nearly finished brewing now, you say   
   goodbye to her and stuff the phone back in your   
   pocket, then take a mug down from the cupboard   
   and pour yourself some when it's done.   
      
   Later when you go back out to the living room   
   to check on him, you're not surprised to find   
   him sleeping soundly, and you breathe a sigh of   
   relief, knowing that for at least a little while,   
   all the darkness that surrounded him earlier is   
   gone.   
      
   Making yourself comfortable in the chair across   
   from the couch, you pick up the remote and change   
   the channel, then slowly drink your coffee, and   
   though you know you'll be exhausted when morning   
   comes, it doesn't matter to you right now.   
      
   All that matters is that she's counting on you to   
   take care of him tonight.   
      
   And you won't let her down.   
      
      
      
   ~end~   
      
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    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)