Title: Beyond This Experience III
Author: Agent L
Classification: S, Skinner POV
Rating: PG-13 for some bad language
Spoilers: Requiem. Brief references to 6th Extinction/Amor Fati,
Avatar. Nothing from Season 8, except the mention of Doggett's name.
Distribution: Anywhere, as long as my name is attached.
Disclaimer: To Chris Carter, David Duchovny, Gillian Anderson, Fox, 
and now Robert Patrick: I know they're not mine, and no money, gifts or 
even chocolate would be expected or accepted for this. 
Summary: Even though he's brought Mulder back to Scully, Skinner
finds his job isn't over yet. I recommend reading BTE I & II
for fullest enjoyment of this story.
Author's Notes: This is for Denise, because she asked so nicely.
Feedback: Yes, please! LHoward388@aol.com


Beyond This Experience III

Walter Skinner hesitated outside Room 121. He hated visiting 
people in the hospital. He never knew what to say or do...especially 
in this case. He had no experience with this sort of thing. But the 
thought had nagged at him all day, and he knew that he would get 
no rest from his strict sense of duty and honor if he didn't stop for a 
few minutes. A quick visit, more to reassure himself that everything 
was fine than to be of any comfort, but who needed to know his 
motives were less than pure? He didn't know why this felt so awkward, 
why he was so indecisive about something that would have been an 
obvious course for any other person.  

But he did know. The distance he'd once established had vanished 
over the last seven months and he couldn't go back to the way things 
were, as much as he wanted to. He had tried hard to remain neutral, 
berating himself at each crack in his armor, resolving that it would be 
the last, and yet he could no more stop himself from caring than he 
could turn back the clock and erase what had happened. He'd thought 
after Sharon that he would never allow himself to care for anyone again, 
and yet somehow, here he was clutching a cheap bouquet of flowers, 
rehearsing platitudes, like a nervous teenager on his first date.

Except this woman was already spoken for. 

In fact, Mulder was probably by her side, even if he'd had to drag 
an IV along with him. Skinner's presence, while not unwelcome, 
would nonetheless be an intrusion. He had nothing to say, while 
they had volumes. 

He was about to turn away and leave the flowers at the reception 
desk when the door opened and a doctor stepped out, nearly 
running into him. The woman smiled as she saw the bouquet in 
his hand. "You can go in now."

She held the door for him. He would have looked foolish if he'd 
turned and walked away.

Skinner entered the room to see Scully sitting up in bed, looking 
frustrated, but healthy. He hadn't been surprised to hear that they'd 
wanted to keep her for observation. She had worried him in the 
basement office when she'd knelt by Mulder and then grimaced in 
pain, her hand at her side. He knew she'd struggled with this 
pregnancy from the beginning, but he had sensed there was a line 
that he could not cross in asking her about her condition. He'd 
had little choice in taking her out of the field -- that was an FBI 
requirement after the second trimester. But she'd given him no 
choice in doing anything more for her. 

She smiled when she saw him and accepted the flowers graciously, 
asking him to sit down.

"Are you all right?" he asked, his worry making his voice sound 
gruffer than he would have liked, but she didn't seem to notice.

"I'm fi --" she broke off with a sheepish look. "They're just doing 
some tests. I might have to be confined to bed for the rest of the 
pregnancy, but it's a precaution." She must have seen some darkness 
still in his eyes, because she reached out and put her hand over his. 
"We're going to be all right," she said softly.

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak for a moment. For the last 
two days he'd been a man on  a mission: get Mulder back to Scully. 
Now that it had been accomplished, he allowed himself the luxury of 
emotion, and the relief threatened to overwhelm him. He glanced out 
the window and cleared his throat, searching for familiar territory.

"Where's Mulder? I expected to see him here."

She was silent for so long that he turned back to her, alarmed. 
Mulder had been in bad shape, but even Scully, as a doctor, hadn't 
seemed to think anything was drastically wrong. If Skinner had 
endangered his life by bringing him back, he'd never forgive himself. 

Scully met his eyes, her own brimming with tears, and bit her lower 
lip. "I - He's - He left."

"The hospital?" Skinner said stupidly. Annoyance quickly replaced 
relief at knowing he was apparently able to walk out on his own. 
The idea of Mulder willingly leaving Scully's side, especially in her 
current condition, was unfathomable. Had he gone back to work? 
Back to finish the fight with Doggett? "What the hell was he thinking?"

Scully looked down at her her fingers twisted in the blanket. "He... 
needs some time. This was all a little overwhelming." 

"That selfish son of a --" Skinner caught himself just in time. Scully 
wouldn't see it like that. She was loyal to Mulder, whereas Skinner's 
loyalties lay elsewhere, to be forever hidden. He swallowed his anger, 
although it nearly choked him.

Scully sat up a little straighter, as he had seen her do so often in 
his office just before she launched into a passionate defense of 
Mulder's most recent behavior. "I've had seven months to adjust 
to this, and some days I still can't quite believe what's happening." 
She gave him a wan smile. "I appreciate your concern, sir, but right 
now I'm more worried about Mulder. He needs food and rest. 
He needs some time."

He needs you to look after him, was left unspoken.

Skinner nodded, putting his hand over hers and squeezing gently. 
The most intimacy he would allow himself, and the most she would 
ever accept. "I'll take care of it."

"I know."
______________
At least this time the search was over with quickly. Skinner headed 
to Mulder's apartment after a quick call to the Lone Gunmen, who 
told him Mulder had stopped by for his spare key. They'd tried to 
get him to stay, but he had insisted on going home. 

When Mulder opened the door, Skinner's planned tirade vanished. 
"You look like hell," he blurted.

Mulder leaned against the doorframe and gave him a weary smile. 
"What a coincidence. I feel like hell." He moved aside for Skinner 
to enter and followed him into the living room, sinking down on the 
sofa and closing his eyes. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this 
visit? No, don't tell me, let me guess. Agent Doggett has lodged a 
formal complaint."

Skinner chuckled. "I doubt you even left a bruise."

"Too bad."

"Mulder...I just talked to Scully --"

"Can I get you something to drink? The guys left some beer in 
the fridge." Mulder shuffled into the kitchen and brought back two 
bottles. He handed one to Skinner and sat back down on the couch, 
pale and sweaty from even that mild exertion. "So what shall we 
drink to?" he asked.

"Scully," Skinner replied.

Mulder's eyes darkened as they clinked the bottles and each 
took a swig. 

Not a soft-spoken man at the best of times, seeing Mulder sprawled 
on the couch drinking a beer while Scully was stuck in a hospital 
bed made Skinner speak more sharply than he'd intended. "She's 
worried about you. And she doesn't need that right now. Why the 
hell aren't you there with her? Do you know what she's been through 
over the past seven months?"
 
"No. I don't," Mulder said quietly, absently rubbing at his jaw. 
Skinner suddenly remembered the nightmare Mulder had had on 
the flight back, where he'd clawed at his face, muttering about 
"getting them out." 

"I'm sorry," he muttered.

Mulder shook his head. "It's not your fault, sir. None of this is 
your fault."

"It's not yours, either, Mulder. If staying away from Scully is some 
sort of self-flagellation..." 

Mulder stood up and walked unsteadily over to the window, staring 
out for a few moments before he spoke again. "I don't remember 
where I was or what happened to me for seven months. There's no 
predicting the physical and mental repercussions. What if I --" He leaned 
against the desk, head bowed. 

Skinner suddenly understood the root of Mulder's fear -- not the aliens, 
not even his own safety or sanity. "You'd never hurt her...or the baby." 

"I can't take that risk."

Skinner stood up, his scant ration of patience wearing thin with lack 
of sleep and the stress of the last few days. "Mulder...Do you realize 
how lucky you are?"

Mulder turned and stared at him for a moment, then smirked. "Oh, 
yeah. I'm one lucky bastard, all right."

"Damn it, Dana loves you, Mulder. Beyond reason, beyond fear, 
beyond alien abductions. God knows why, but she does. You 
keep saying the truth is out there, Mulder, but it's been right by 
your side for the past seven years. And if you can't see that, 
maybe you *should* walk away."

He was dangerously close to saying too much, revealing feelings 
best left hidden, but he wasn't going to lose her without a fight -- 
even if he had to force this reluctant soldier to go into battle in his 
place. Skinner forced himself to take a deep breath and count to 
three -- slowly -- before he continued. "We can help you recover 
those memories, Mulder. We can work through this. Or you can 
just give up and check yourself into a padded room somewhere 
and live a nice safe existence. No risks."

Mulder stared down at his beer bottle, focused on peeling off a 
tiny corner of the label. The room was silent except for the ticking 
of the clock on the desk.  Skinner stood up, needing to get out of 
the stuffy room, feeling claustrophobic, smothered by words said 
and unsaid. He needed something stronger than beer to soothe the 
ache in his gut and quiet the chaos in his head. He was almost to 
the door when Mulder spoke.

"I've been in a padded room," he said mildly. "Didn't much care 
for it."

Skinner hesitated, then turned to look at him, unable to read his 
expression in the shadows near the window. 

"I'm scared." The voice was barely audible, even in the quiet room.

"We all are," Skinner replied quietly, his voice not quite steady.

Mulder nodded, then set the beer bottle down and grabbed his 
jacket from the back of the couch. "Let's go see Scully."

Skinner glanced at his watch. "Mulder, it's past visiting hours. 
You probably won't be able to see her tonight."

Mulder gave him a grin. "Let's just say I'm willing to take the risk."
_________
Of course the clerk at the reception desk refused their request, 
unimpressed even when Skinner flashed his FBI credentials.

"You could be J. Edgar Hoover for all I care," the bleached 
blonde said in a bored tone. "Visiting hours are over. Come 
back tomorrow." She pointed to the sign that said "Visiting 
Hours: 10 a.m. to 7:00 p.m."

"Sorry, Mulder," Skinner murmured as they turned to walk 
away. "But you could use a good night's sleep anyway, and --"

Mulder suddenly stopped and winced as if he were in pain. 
"I - I don't think I..."  With a groan, he put a hand to his head, 
and Skinner barely caught his arm as he sank to the floor.

"We need some help here!" Skinner shouted, shaking the clerk 
out of her ennui. She grabbed the phone and made a quick call. 
Skinner looked back at Mulder, surprised to find he was still 
conscious -- and even more surprised when Mulder winked 
at him. 

"What the hell are you --" Skinner was interrupted by the doctor, 
who gave Mulder a quick exam and immediately ordered that he 
be admitted. Mulder meekly submitted to the doctor's orders, 
allowing himself to be helped onto a gurney, when Skinner knew 
full well he hated hospitals and most doctors... except for one.

The crazy son of a bitch had done it to see her.

After taking care of some paperwork, Skinner got Mulder's room 
number and permission to stop in and make sure he didn't need 
anything. No one questioned him when he pressed the button for 
the first floor instead of the fourth on the elevator, and no one 
stopped him on the way to Scully's room. But then, Walter Skinner 
was not a man whose presence anywhere was generally questioned. 
He always looked like he was exactly where he was supposed to be. 
Even if he wasn't sure himself.

He opened the door to find Mulder in a hospital gown, hooked up 
to one of those portable IVs, sitting next to Scully's bed. The two 
of them were smiling at each other, talking quietly. Mulder's free 
hand rested loosely on the mound of Scully's stomach, her hand 
over his. 

Unnoticed, Skinner closed the door softly and walked down the 
corridor. 

Everything had changed, and yet nothing had changed. Their bond 
was immediate and strong -- an almost palpable presence in the room, 
leaving him feeling like a voyeur even in those few moments he had 
watched them. Once again he would be forced to keep his distance, 
maintain the status quo. It was honorable. It was right. He should be 
content with that, as he always had been in the past -- satisfied with 
his role in bringing them together, in keeping them together, but an 
unbearable loneliness settled over him as he made his way to his car. 
The next few weeks would be difficult, but they would survive.

They would move beyond this experience.

But could he?

The End