From: shawntaw@hotmail.com   
      
   Title:Proxy IV   
   Author: shawntaw   
   Rating: PG-13   
   Category: AU, MSR implied, major SA and some S/Sk UST (this story ends   
   in MSR eventually don't worry)   
   Disclaimer: They're not mine, although I think I might've done a   
   better job exploring the depths of some of the secondary characters...   
   Spoilers: Um, Season 8, I guess.   
   Summary: People were pretending not to notice and she was making up   
   her mind not to care.   
      
   feed the author at shawntaw@hotmail.com  :)   
      
      
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   People were pretending not to notice and she was making up her mind   
   not to care.   
      
   Scully sat alone in the cafeteria, scarfing down her lunch tray full   
   of mashed potatoes.  Her thoughts were on Skinner's pessimistic   
   reaction to her news concerning Mulder.  What must the big "THEY" have   
   said to him to make him so grim? How honest had he been with his   
   superiors about what he'd seen in Oregon? Why couldn't her let her be   
   just a little bit joyful?  A little hopeful?  She needed it...desperately.   
      
   She startled herself out of her reverie with the metallic scratching   
   sound of her own fork scraping mashed potatoes out of all the corners   
   of the lunchtray.  Scully lifted the fork to her lips and licked it   
   clean, wondering if she could go back for seconds.   
      
   She suddenly realized she was surrounded by utter silence.  Almost   
   everyone was staring and she quickly lowered her fork and blushed to   
   the roots of her red hair. Arching her eyebrow at them all, Scully   
   stood and turned to make her usual decisive exit.  Dizziness assailed   
   her and the world tilted.   
      
   *DAMN!*  She sat on the floor - hard - utterly humiliated and was   
   mortified to discover that she was tearing up. *I HATE HORMONES!* She   
   screamed on the inside as she tried to drag herself to standing.   
   Frozen in surprise, noone moved to help for a moment and then she   
   heard people approaching.  Scully doubled her efforts to gain her   
   footing, trying to ignore the slight nausea that crept up the back of   
   her throat.   
      
   "Agent Scully, are you alright?," His deep, reassuring voice and   
   hurrying footsteps from the doorway were such a relief that she   
   literally had to stifle a sob.  She stopped trying to scramble to her   
   feet. What was wrong with her??  She felt off-kilter.   
      
   Skinner's hand appeared in her view and she dazedly examined it.   
   Short hand, wide hand, strong hand, tan hand, neatly trimmed nails,   
   heavy expensive watch, white cuff, suit jacket sleeve...   
      
   "Scully?"  People were beginning to talk among themselves.  Skinner   
   suddenly knelt in her view. The familiar scent of his cologne wafted   
   over her with the action and she suddenly remembered how Mulder had   
   smelled.  At work he'd smelled like soap, shampoo, shaving cream, and   
   maybe a little hairgel that he never let her see him use.  He didn't   
   use cologne or aftershave.  She sighed to herself.  She missed him so   
   much.   
      
   Skinner was frowning at her, his brown eyes squinting behind his glasses.   
      
   "Sir, do you want us to call someone?," a voice said from above. She   
   could see various legs standing around him.  Pantyhosed legs ending in   
   heels and in pumps.  Pants legs with shiny dress shoes or sensible flats.   
      
   "Dana?" Skinner whispered and she observed how pale his face was   
   looking.  She blinked at him...   
      
   ...and realized that she was sitting on the cafeteria floor of the   
   Hoover Building surrounded by fellow agents, secretaries and goodness   
   only knows who else.   
      
   "I'm fine," she said, pulling herself together and taking the hand   
   that a visibly relieved Walter Skinner offered to her.  She stood with   
   only minor assistance and immediately took her hand back.   
      
   Scully straightened her jacket and dusted off her skirt.  People   
   continued to stare and mutter.   
      
   "Do you need us to call someone to look you over, Agent Scully?" Some   
   anonymous secretary was looking worriedly at her.   
      
   "No," Scully held her head high, "No, I'm just fine.  I misstepped. I   
   was a little stunned, but I'm fine now."   
      
   Without acknowledging anyone, she turned and left.   
      
   Everyone burst into conversation and got back to their lunches,   
   discussing this new juicy tidbit about the knocked-up Mrs. Spooky.  A   
   few were sneaking glances at the assistant director as well.   
      
   Skinner stood alone staring after her, a deep wrinkle between his eyes.   
      
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   She appeared at his door that night.   
      
   Somehow, Skinner wasn't surprised.   
      
   Things went as usual.  She climbed into his bed.  They spooned up and   
   fell asleep.  He did not question her.   
      
   He was surprised, however, to wake up in the middle of the night to   
   find her sitting up sobbing her guts into a pillow. He immediately sat   
   up as well, twisted, switched on his bedside lamp and turned back to her.   
      
   "Scully? What is it? Bad dream?"   
      
   She shook her head once and cried louder into the pillow.  Skinner   
   felt panicked.  "What is it then, Scully? Tell me."   
      
   Scully shook her head side to side, but took the pillow away from her   
   face.   
      
   "I was trying not to wake you up," she said roughly, not looking at   
   him. She inhaled deeply, sniffed and wiped a hand across her   
   tear-streaked cheeks, "I can't stop crying," she admitted.   
      
   "That's understandable-" Skinner began, but Scully threw her pillow   
   violently across the room. It bounced harmlessly off the wall.   
      
   "It's NOT understandable!!" she yelled, finally looking at him.  Tears   
   streamed from her eyes and her expression was sheer fury. "I can't   
   collect my thoughts!  I'm weepy! I'm losing my mind and I can't stop   
   it!!"  Scully dissolved again in sobs, covering her face again with   
   trembling hands.   
      
   "I'm no good to anyone this way," Her voice was barely recognizable.   
      
   Before he could think too much about it and feel uncomfortable,   
   Skinner clicked off his lamp, reached out and enveloped her in his   
   arms.  She resisted at first, weakly pulling away from him.   
      
   "I don't want any more of your pity," she protested, "You've given too   
   much already."   
      
   He held her firmly until he felt her relax. He laid back, clutching   
   her to his chest.   
      
   "You don't always have to be strong, Dana.  Just relax," he stroked   
   her hair over and over, "Relax and sleep."   
      
   Skinner felt her slowly sagging against him as he hushed her over and   
   over again.  He stroked her hair and back and fought the droop of his   
   own eyelids.  He wouldn't sleep until he knew that she was alright.   
      
   Her sobs began to settle to sniffles in the silence of Skinner's   
   bedroom.  He watched the time change minute by minute on the digital   
   clock atop the dresser.  After awhile her breathing evened out and he   
   assumed she was asleep.  Skinner let himself begin to float away in   
   the hazy place right before sleep, when he heard her speak.   
      
   "We're never going to find Mulder, are we?" She sounded so resigned,   
   so utterly exhausted.   
      
   Skinner blinked away sleep once more to answer her, "We have to face   
   the fact that we may have to wait for him to be returned to us," he   
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)