"Alliance" by XFBandit drambo@sonic.net Rating: PG Classification: MSR?, SR, S/O Rating: PG Spoilers: "Small Potatoes" Feedback: Sure. Archive: Anywhere, as long as my name and addy stay attached. Disclaimer: Not mine, never were, never will be. No money changed hands, and no characters were hurt in the creation of this fanfic. Crystal City, Virginia 9:45pm I'm just worried about her. I try once again to convince myself that's why I'm here. If she found out I was going behind her back to Skinner, she'd kill me. Kill me dead. I already know she can shoot me if she has to. I wince, remembering the impact of the bullet from her gun, the burning pain in my shoulder, the incredulity in my soul that she !she! would shoot me. But the cancer. She won't tell me, but I know it's spreading. Somehow, I can see it on her face. I ask, again and again, over and over, but it's always the same answer. "I'm fine, Mulder." And that's supposed to put it to rest. And it never does. It never could. She needs to sit back, take it easy. I remember what she told me in the hallway. How she wanted to fight it from inside as well as outside. How she wanted to use our work to find the truth, the cure. I never should have agreed. If I try and talk her into taking a leave of absence, I might as well spend my time talking to a brick wall. But Skinner -- Skinner could _make_ her do it. And that's why I'm here. To convince him...to convince her. (*)(*) I knock. There's sounds from inside: Soft jazz, a muted television in the background? That makes no sense; who would watch TV _and_ listen to music at the same time? Too late, I realize that the TV sounds I thought I heard are two people talking. He's got company. I turn to leave as I hear the door open behind me. I turn back and smile weakly. "Sorry to bother you sir," I say. "Agent Mulder?" Skinner asks, his eyes widening. He glances behind himself in this certain way, and something about it alarms me, worries me. He looks guilty, I realize. I shift my feet, just a touch to the left, trying to look behind him, wondering if he's got company, and if that company likes to smoke Morley's. Instead... I gasp. Walking from the kitchen to the living room, carrying a plate of what appears to be some kind of evil nacho-garden salad combination, wearing a soft pair of Oxford gym shorts and a well-worn, equally soft Knicks T-shirt, her feet bare... Scully. I open my mouth to ask "What?" and feel it close slowly, softly. I drop my eyes, unable to look at her, or him. I don't know what I'm feeling, but it's not good. "Excuse me," I say, turning to go. "Mulder, wait-" Skinner starts. I show him the back of my hand as I trot down the steps and around the corner to my car. This is... Intense. Overwhelming. (*)(*) Later, at my apartment, I'm on the couch. The TV is on, but I don't hear it or see it. All I can think about is how...comfortable Scully looked in Skinner's house. Like she belonged there. Like she'd been there before. No business suit, no casual clothes like I'd seen her in, but... Bed clothes. I can't escape that fact. Scully was dressed for going to bed. With him. Skinner. And to...to...add insult to injury, those were _my_ clothes she'd been wearing, stuff I'd left over her apartment after one too-many sleepovers. Only I slept on the couch. I consider that maybe Scully was sleeping on Skinner's couch. For about five seconds of desperate hope. Then I realize what was really happening. And now I start to wonder why it's bothering me so damn much. The knock comes, and when I don't answer, the key is next. I curse myself for ever giving her that damn key. She enters and shucks her coat, tossing it on the floor near the door. She enters the living room slowly, warily as if I'm going to pull a gun on her. The thought crosses my mind. She takes the only chair in the room, the one facing the couch. "Mulder-" she starts. My eyes find hers and she stops what she was about to say. "How long?" I ask. "Since Canada," she says after a moment. "Shortly after you got back." Two years, I think. Almost two damn years. And I never had a clue. "Do you love him?" I ask. She shrugs. "It's not about love, Mulder." I disregard this. "Why didn't you tell me?" She spreads her hands and shrugs. I study her face, infuriated to find there's no apology there. "Judging by your reaction tonight, I was right in not telling you." Angry, I look away. "I don't know why I'm so damn upset," I say. "It's really none of my business." She nods at this. "You're right," she confirms. "But you are my partner, and we are...friends." I hear the pause and I want to gag. Friends. Just friends is what she means. The two most hated words by any man who's ever been in love. I nod, swallowing past something sticky and dry in my throat. "Yeah...just friends," I say, hating myself for giving her the opportunity to confirm the obvious. She ignores it. "Walter and I-" she starts, and seeing me flinch, stops. "Would you prefer I call him Skinner?" I would prefer, I think, that you weren't fucking our boss. "Whatever." "Skinner and I are...lovers," she says. "And that's it. We're not friends, we're not in love, we're...just taking what the other has to give. Since his wife left, he's been...lonely. And I don't have to tell you what our job does to my social life. I'm...human, Mulder. I have needs." So do I, I think. "What do you do?" she asks. "Nothing," I say, meaning it. She knows about the magazines, about the videos, about the phone sex I pay for, sweet-voiced strangers on the other end of a phone line, saying words I've imagined a thousand times coming from the mouth of the woman seated ten feet away. How can I tell her that it never works for me, that I've wasted thousands of dollars and risked my credit rating only to fail at the last moment in the knowledge that I'm paying for a service that I don't want and desperately need? "Where does he think you are?" I ask. "Home," she says softly. "You lied to him?" She nods. I feel the pressure in my chest let up just a bit; she's never lied to me. To know that she lied to him _for_ me makes it somewhat easier to take. Until the second knock. "Mulder!" Scully closes her eyes and sighs. "Do you want to hide in the bedroom?" I ask. She stands, rubbing her palms on the thighs of her jeans, shrugging. "No...let him in." "It's open!" I call. The door slowly oozes open and Skinner's there, framed by the light from the hall. He's wearing a trenchcoat over jeans and a t-shirt, the light twinkling through his glasses. It doesn't look like a merry twinkle. It looks the way the sun does when it glances off the glass of a telescopic sight. And I feel about as safe as I would if such a weapon were pointed at me in that moment. "C'mon in," I say. "The gang's all here!" He shuts the door behind him, moving into the living room to join us. He nods at Scully. "Dana," he says. She nods back, lips pressed together in a thin line. It pleases me to see how...shocked he is that she lied to him. She never lied to me, pal, I think, and am ashamed instantly. He raises a hand to scratch his face. No one speaks. "Walter," Scully finally says, "it's over." He nods, accepting this declaration of hers. "Are you in love with her?" I ask. He looks away and I can almost feel the clench of his jaw muscles from where I sit. "None of your goddamn business," he growls. I'm reminded of an old joke about the man who asks the woman if she's turned on by dirty jokes. "I'm not going to answer that," she says. "You already did," he points out. Easy to deny; impossible to confirm without losing face. But he's got face to spare, I think, struggling to suppress the giggle I feel welling up inside me. "The part...no...the two things that piss me off," I start, "Is that neither of you felt you could trust me enough to tell me." I let that sit in the room for a minute, letting them both digest it. "And," I add, more to Scully than to...him, "the fact that you wore _my_ clothes to his apartment." Scully thinks about that for a moment. "You're right," she says. "I'm sorry." I shrug. It's nothing, I try to say. And fail. "Two years?" I ask. They both are unable to meet my eyes as I look between them. "Fuck it," I say, waving my hand in the air. "What you two do with your own time is your own business. I will hand it to you, though, you sure managed to fool me. And as paranoid as I am, if you managed to hide it from me, I'm sure as shit that no one else at work knows." Scully stands, walking past Skinner to find her coat. "I'll see you tomorrow," she says. I wonder who she's talking to. She leaves. Skinner takes her place in the chair, and I wonder if he's doing what I do when I sit somewhere she's been. Is he smelling her? Inhaling her scent? Becoming intoxicated by it? "Mulder," he starts. I sit back, crossing my arms, telling him that I'm listening but I don't want to hear what he feels he has to say. "I'm sorry." "Sorry that it happened, or sorry that I found out?" I feel petulant, and I try to hide it. "Sorry that you seem to have such a problem with it." "Kind of unprofessional, don't you think? Fucking one of your subordinates?" I see his jaw clench again. "Normally, if you said that to me," he says softly, "I'd have your ass for breakfast. But seeing as how I am the one in the wrong here, I'll let you have that one." Gee, thanks, I think. "You're right. It's unprofessional. But I'm also human, Mulder." "How did it happen?" I ask. He shakes his head. "None of your business." "If I ask her, she'll tell me," I say, thinking: Neener, neener. "That will be her choice, Mulder. I won't be drawn into a pissing contest with...you." The likes of you, I think. That's what you wanted to say, you bald-headed bastard. "It..." He pauses, and from that single word, I know I'm about to hear something he doesn't want to tell me but feels that he must. "It was always you she wanted." "Bullshit," I say, already hoping that he's right. "It's true," he nods sadly. "She...called your name out once." The sadness in his voice is overwhelming. Good, I think. Suffer. "So why didn't she tell me?" "I was...safe. We both knew going in that it wasn't going to be an Earth-shattering romance. That it was just...that it was just what it was, nothing more. No expectations. No tomorrows. Just the various todays, tonights that we had. She never...spent the night. Never woke up next to me. And the one time I tried to..." He drifted off and I waited, letting my silence speak for me. "The one time I tried to kiss her in the elevator at headquarters she tore my head off and handed it to me." "Tell me about..." I drifted off and he knew what I meant. "About six months ago. It was a bad patch for us. Right before she went into the hospital, she thought...she thought I was in on it, that I was following her. We hadn't been together in months. She thought that you were dead, or...she was letting everyone think she thought you were dead. Right after she got out of the hospital she came to me, asked me to hold her. That night, she called out your name." Skinner stands and wraps his coat around him. "She told me after that shape-shifter...what was his name? Blundht? She told me after that happened what he said to you. I'd take that advice, Mulder." He moves to the door and pauses. "I would..." If you were me, I think. (*)(*) Scully's apartment, half an hour later...I stand outside her door, key in hand, wondering what she's going through. I let myself in. She's on the couch, watching TV but not seeing it. How do I know? That asshole Yappi's on the screen, plugging his newest infomercial nonsense, something about a tape that will change your life. I flop down on the chair, gathering my coat around me. She regards me, cool, from the couch. "So what did you two talk about?" she asks. I say nothing. "I don't love him," she says softly. I wait. "I was lonely." "He is your boss," I point out. "He's not you, don't you mean?" I don't answer this. It's not going to be that easy, Scully. "You don't have to explain why, Scully. Just why you lied. And don't tell me that by not saying anything you weren't lying. That's a cop-out and you know it." She considers this. This is an interesting feeling for me, having her on the defensive, knowing that I'm 110% right and she has nowhere to go. Nowhere but to admit it, to cop to it, and if she feels so inclined, to beg for my forgiveness. She shrugs and turns her attention back to the television. "You called out my name," I say, playing the trump card. Her face crumples. "Goddamn him," she whispers. "Damn him for telling you that!" "Is it true?" She looks away, unable to meet my gaze, and nods. "Do you want to be with me? Like...that? Like you were with him?" She shakes her head and my world implodes. "I want more," she says, and the room swims back into focus. "More with me? Or just more?" "With you." "Why didn't you tell me?" "I did. A thousand ways on a thousand different days. I'm not like you, Mulder. I can't wear my heart on my sleeve, fall to my knees and declare undying love for you. I had to show you the only way I know how: Being there for you, accepting you for who you are, no questions asked. But you didn't see that, didn't see . What you see...of me... I have no idea. I have no idea how you see me." I have no answer for this. What do I say? What I say? "No matter...it's over," she says. I accept this. "Do you know why I never...tried?" I ask. She shakes her head. "I assumed you weren't interested." "I didn't want to make you a cliche," I said. "Do you know how many female agents have been caught screwing their partners or their bosses?" She nods. "I thought we could be...different. Everyone already assumes we're sleeping together." I shake my head. No, they don't. "They assume that I made a pass and you turned me down." She smiles at this. "Prove `em wrong, Mulder." "How?" "Make a pass at me." I start to tell her that it will be a cold day in Hell before I make a pass at her...now. After this. Standing, I regard her. "Someday," I say. "Maybe. But not tonight. Not tomorrow. Not this week." Not this life. "Ok," she says, still looking away. I know as soon as I leave she'll start crying. Crying for what, I'm not sure, and not sure that I want to know. I let myself out. Standing in the hallway, I think: All I ever wanted was for you to be happy, Scully. That, and my sister. Her, and the truth. All that...and for you to be happy. That's it. Don't you get it? Don't you know? You could never be happy with me. FINI