Title: Looks and Smiles (4/4)
Author:  Jo-Ann Lassiter
Email Address:  jolassi555@cs.com
Distribution Statement:  Post anywhere. Thanks.
Spoiler Warning: "One Breath"
Rating: PG-13 for some swearing 
Classification: S, A
Key Words: M/Sc/Sk Friendship
Summary: An ailing Skinner accompanies Mulder and Scully to Roanoke
in pursuit of a killer the AD helped put away fifteen years ago.
Along the way, Skinner comes to realize his unique relationship
with the X-Files team.
Author's Note: Although this is built around an X-File, the case is
not the story. This is a character piece, told from Skinner's point
of view. The X-File is incidental and is therefore treated as such.
Thanks to Jill and Darla and D. Street for their assistance in
clarifying characterization and setting.

Tanglewood Motel
July 20, 1996
Middle of the Night

He awoke to darkness and silence. 

Throwing off the blankets, he sat up until felt able, then shuffled
into the bathroom. When he came out, he found Scully sitting on his
bed.

"I heard the toilet flush," she explained. "I'm sorry I didn't
knock, but I wanted to catch you before you fell asleep again."

Now over his initial shock at finding her there, he started toward
her--and his bed. "It's all right, Agent Scully." He sat down
heavily. "What can I do for you?"

"I just came to give you something that'll let you sleep a little
more comfortably." She handed him a pill.

He didn't want to know how she had come to the conclusion that he
hadn't been sleeping comfortably. "It's different."

She tilted her head in puzzlement. "Sir?"

"The pill." He held it out for her inspection. "It's different from
the other ones."

"They seemed to lose their effectiveness. These are stronger, but
they're easier on your stomach."

His face must have reflected his fears, because she touched him
gently on the arm and said, "Don't worry, sir. Nothing happened.
You fell asleep in the car, Mulder brought you here, and you've
been sleeping since."

For the first time, he noticed the absence of the male agent.
"Where *is* Mulder?"

Her face puckered, and she blew out a breath. "Roanoke. Writing
them a profile."

He looked at the streetlights outside the window. "What time is
it?"

"A little after three-thirty."

Then he noticed what had been bothering him about Scully's
appearance: she was wearing pajamas.

"I... uh... didn't pack a bathrobe." She smoothed the lines of her
pj's, then smiled and looked away. "We... uh... couldn't find one
for you, either. Mulder thought you'd be comfortable like that."

He suddenly became aware of his attire. Or lack thereof. Blast
Mulder for remembering.

And then he chuckled. It was a good thing he didn't sleep in the
nude, or Mulder probably wouldn't have left him even his skivvies.
"I don't know how you put up with him, Agent Scully. He'd have me
in a straight jacket before a week was up."

She met his eyes again, her own reflecting amused resignation.
"Once you figure out that you can't figure out Mulder, it's a
breeze. Expect everything, and you're prepared for anything."

"How does he do it, Scully?" the AD asked sofly. "How does he put
up with all that bullshit they throw at him? How does he let it
just bounce off him?" He met her eyes. "How do you?"

"The same way you do, sir. You don't let them get to you, because
if you do, they've won. And there's no way in hell they're going to
win."

Skinner nodded, and then he felt as if every ounce of strength had
been siphoned out of him. 

"Oh, Jesus, sir." Scully caught him before he could slump over.
"Sir? Can you hear me?"

"Uh, huh." Even to his own ears, his voice sounded weak.

She began rubbing his back. God, it felt good. "Come on, sir. Don't
pass out on me." 

He wondered why not. He was in bed, for chrissakes; where better to
pass out than here? Jesus, that felt sooooo good. "Scul... ly..."

She shifted under him until they were chest-to-chest, his bare one
to her pajama-covered one. "What, sir?" Her hand slid across his
shoulder blades.

He could barely get the words out. "I need to lie down." 

"In a minute, sir. If you lie down now, you'll be out in a second.
I still want you to have that pill." The muscles in his lower back
were rejoicing from her touch; the muscles in his front were just
rejoicing.

He tried to pull away. "No pill, Scully." Oh, Jesus, he wished
she'd stop. "Now. I need--" 

"You need me to stop rubbing your back, I think."

She stopped rubbing, and he stopped breathing; then his breath came
fast and shallow. He felt his temperature soar. "Go back to bed,
Agent Scully. I'll take the pill. I promise. Just go. Please."

"Sir, it's not--"

"Please, Scully." He was about to die from embarrassment, and he
wanted to do it alone. 

"Let me get you a glass of water."

"I'll get the water."

"Sir--"

"Scully, *please.*"

"All right," she said softly, "but when Mulder gets back, I'm
sending him in here to explain a few things about the
patient/doctor relationship to you. The male patient/female doctor
relationship."

He wished she hadn't confirmed it. That tiny glimmer of doubt could
have sustained the one shred of dignity he had left. Now there was
no doubt: she knew full well the reaction he'd had to her.

"Good night, sir." She was at the door, and he hardly noticed. 

"Good night." The reply was automatic, and he was amazed that his
vocal cords were still functioning. Well. That wasn't where the
problem lay, was it?

The door closed, and he slid off the bed and onto the floor.
Besides the obvious, what the hell was wrong with him? Scully was
one of his agents, for chrissakes. He'd never thought of her in
that way. He still didn't. Then why had what happened, happened?

She mentioned Mulder. Had he come to this hurdle and passed it?
Yes, of course. With Mulder's propensity for injuring himself, they
must have encountered it on their first assignment together. Did it
still happen to him, or was he past this particular impediment? Oh,
Jesus. Why was his mind even going there? 

God, the floor was hard. He pulled himself back onto the bed and
looked at the pill still clutched in his hand. A glass of water
stood on the night table. Stubborn woman, he thought, and laughed.
He downed the pill, drank the glass of water, and went to sleep.

*****

Tanglewood Motel
July 22, 1996
1:53 p.m.

He was dozing to the hum of the TV when the sound of his door
clicking open jolted him awake. Heart pounding, he lay quietly and
watched as the figure entered his room. Mulder.

"Are you awake, sir?" the agent asked softly.

"Mulder, what are you doing sneaking into my room like that?"

"Uh, well... actually, sir, we've been sneaking into your room like
that since we've been here."

"What?" Skinner hoisted himself up onto his elbows. Mulder hurried
over to him and propped him up with pillows. Skinner ceased all
movement. "What are you doing?"

"Sir?"

"The pillows. What are you doing with them?"

The agent looked a little confused. "I'm just..." He stopped, and
Skinner swore he looked like had just lost something. "I... we were
keeping your head raised so you could breathe better."

"I can breathe fine."

"Yes, sir." Mulder backed away from the AD's head, down to the
other end of the bed. "He looked down at the floor. "I, um... I
just came to check on you."

"Where's Scully?"

"In her room. She thought you'd be more comfortable with me." He
glanced up at Skinner, then his gaze returned to the floor. "For
now."

Skinner's felt his face grow hot. "Did she tell you?"

"She didn't have to."

"So, it... uh..."
"Oh, yeah."

"Still?"

"Every time."

"Jesus." 

"So how are you feeling, sir? You look a lot better than you did
earlier."

Skinner looked up quickly. "You were here earlier?"

Mulder nodded. "A few hours ago. Scully, too." The agent smiled.
"I'm the advance guard. If you were sleeping, she'd give you the
once-over herself." He shrugged. "You slept a lot. This is the
first time you've been really awake."

What? "Mulder, how long has it been since--"

"Two days."

"I've been in this room for two days?" He stared at the male agent.
"How long have you been back?"

"Two days."

"How'd the profile go?"

Mulder shrugged. "They caught the guy yesterday."

"From your profile?"

The agent's voice was very quiet. "Not according to Russett."

"How then?"

"Sir, I don't want to--"

"How, Mulder?"

Mulder shook his head, clearly frustrated. "I don't know how. They
didn't have a clue about the psychic connection between the
brothers--even if they believed it."

"Where did you run your background check? Where did you do all your
research?"

Mulder's eyes met his. "Roanoke. Sir, I know what you're thinking.
Don't you think I've thought of it myself? Don't you think Scully
has?"

"Is that what happened, Mulder? Or do you seriously believe that
they could have come up with it on their own?"
"It's possible, I suppose. Not probable, but possible."

"You read over their profiles. They were headed in a different
direction entirely."

"I know, sir."

"Whose was it?"

"The whole team got credit. You, me, and Scully included. They
caught the guy; isn't that what really matters?"

"Is that the way you see it?"

"Yes, sir." 

"Is that the way you want to leave it?"

Mulder nodded. "I don't need any feathers in my cap. I know my
capabilities." The agent took a breath. "Well, I'm glad you're
feeling better. I'll get out of your way now." He walked over to
the door and opened it.

"Agent Mulder."

"Sir?"

"It's gratifying to have those capabilities recognized every once
in a while, though, isn't it?"

The agent smiled and nodded sadly. "Gratifying, but not necessary."
His eyes met Skinner's, and then he left.

The AD stared after the closed door. "I think it is, Agent Mulder,"
he said very softly.

*****

On the Road
July 24, 1996
8:00 a.m.

The AD sat in the back seat and studied Fox Mulder as he drove them
toward the Roanoke office. The man was a picture of
imperturbability: hands resting easily on the wheel, shoulders
relaxed, face serene. Skinner knew better.

Mulder had not wanted to accompany them to the field office. His
part in the investigation was over. He had no old acquaintances to
bid adieu, no cases to wrap up, no evidence to procure. He had
spent eighteen hours straight at the office writing the profile
that clinched the case, and then was informed--a day later--that
while the Roanoke office appreciated his efforts, the case had been
solved without his help. He would, of course, as a courtesy, be
credited as part of the team. 

How very generous of them.

In a rare display of anger, Scully had told Skinner how her partner
had returned the next morning, exhausted, starving and dehydrated.
Bastards hadn't even offered him a cup of coffee.

Skinner remembered waking to find the agent asleep in a chair, his
head on the bed atop pillows clutched possessively in a death grip,
and Scully attempting to remove him to his own bed. She had finally
given up and, after spreading a blanket over him, left. When
Skinner awoke next, Mulder was gone.

Mulder twitched, and Skinner looked out the window. The agent's
composure was slipping the closer they got to Roanoke, and Skinner
didn't want to watch. A movement in the front caught his eye,
though, and he smiled to himself. Scully. A light touch on Mulder's
leg, and the poise was back.

Skinner leaned into the seatback and closed his eyes. While Scully
had pronounced him fit for travel to the Roanoke office and back to
the motel, their return to DC would be delayed until tomorrow.
While he felt a hundred percent better, he still felt weak and
definitely not up to the long drive home.

He still felt rather awkward about their delay in returning to DC.
The case had wrapped four days ago, yet they were still here
because of him. As soon as he felt better, he had freed them of
that responsibility, arguing that he would rent a car and make his
own way home. They had politely declined. 

Although he had still spent a good deal of his time sleeping, he
was awake several hours at a stretch, too. Mulder or Scully, or
sometimes both, were always there when he woke and, depending on
his wishes, either stayed with him watching television or playing
cards, or left him alone. He wasn't alone much.

"Sir?" He opened his eyes, surprised to find Mulder outside the
car, holding his door open. "Are you all right?"

He smiled at the concern in the agent's voice. "Just thinking.
Sorry."

The agent smiled. "You're entitled." He extended a hand, and
Skinner took it. Mulder's smile faded as he helped Skinner out of
the car. "Sir, you're not here about the profile, are you?"

"On the record: no. Off the record... yes, I am."

"Sir--"

"Mulder, this is a courtesy call. Nothing more. I'm not going to
embarrass you."
The agent snorted. "I don't embarrass that easily, sir." He
exchanged a glance with Scully. "We just don't think he's worth
your effort."

Skinner smiled slyly. "Oh, it's no effort, Agent Mulder, Agent
Scully. Trust me on that."

Another glance was exchanged, and three grinning, chuckling FBI
agents made their way into the Roanoke office.

****

Tanglewood Motel
6 p.m.

"More lo mein, sir?" Mulder held up the half-full carton.

Skinner was just about to accept when he caught the glare Scully
was directing at her partner. "Er... no, thank you, Agent Mulder.
I think I've had enough." He looked to the female agent for
confirmation.

She smiled her approval, then reddened when the men burst out
laughing.

"What?"

Mulder glanced at Skinner. "Nothing," he said, managing to look
innocent.

"Nothing, Agent Scully." Skinner felt pretty angelic himself.

"Look, you just shouldn't have too much to eat. This is pretty
heavy stuff." Another glare at Mulder. "You should have gotten
something lighter."

Mulder rolled his eyes. "Scully, we've had 'light' three nights
running. Don't tell me you didn't enjoy this."

"No, I did. It's just..."

"I feel fine, Scully," Skinner said. He cast an amused glance at
Mulder. "And I didn't eat near as much as your partner."

The female agent sighed. "I know."

"But she's still worried," Mulder said.

"So's he," Scully said, in an I'm-not-taking-this-rap-alone tone.

Skinner gazed at both of his agents. And smiled.

They smiled back.

The End 

Character is like a tree, and reputation like its shadow. The
shadow is what we think of it; the tree is the real thing.
- Anon

End Part 4/4

Comments appreciated. Thanks! Jo-Ann jolassi555@cs.com