From: juliettt@aol.com (Juliettt)
Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
Subject: New: "Silent Communion" 1 of 1
Date: 5 Aug 1995 01:39:19 -0400


"Silent Communion"
by Juliettt@aol.com (July 12, 1995)	
(revised August 4, 1995)

This one takes place right after "Irresistible," an episode which
seems to have spawned a lot of fanfic.  Unlike most of those, this
one has no sex, no violence, just some bonding and possibly a little
UST.  That is, it is something I think could possibly happen on the
show (well, if Skinner were just a little more understanding . . .).

As always, Dana Scully, Fox Mulder, Walter Skinner, and Margaret
Scully all belong to Chris Carter and Ten-Thirteen Productions and
FOX Broadcasting or some amalgamation of the three.  And again, I
will insist that the characters belong (to some extent, at least), to
Gillian Anderson, David Duchovny, Mitch Pileggi, and Sheila Larkin.
Fantastic work, guys.  Oh, and I'm using the show's premise and
characters with great love but without a smidgen of permission.
This story, such as it is, is mine, however.

**************************
"Silent Communion"
by Juliettt@aol.com
**************************


	They had flown back to D.C. that night after Scully had
insisted on giving her statement.  Skinner, informed as to the night's
events via a telephone call from Lt. Bochs while Scully and Mulder
were on the plane, had left a message at the airport for them to meet
him at the office without delay.  They were surprised.  Surely if he
knew that Pfaster had been arrested, he knew something of what
they had gone through.  Then again, Skinner had always been
something of an enigma.  So they shrugged and took a cab with the
intent of dozing on the way to the Hoover Building.  But Scully was
too keyed up and terrified to sleep, and Mulder was too concerned
and watched her the whole way there.  She could not see his eyes
in the early morning darkness but she could feel the intensity of his
gaze.

	They dragged themselves in at 7:25 and headed directly for
Skinner's office.  Mulder hoped this would not take very long.  He
was absolutely exhausted and knew that Scully was, too.  He
wondered if she were going to be able to sleep at all and how in the
world he could help her.  She had been very quiet ever since she had
sobbed in his arms at the crime scene, as if she felt she needed to
make up for what she evidently saw as a momentary "lapse" in her
professionalism with coldness.  He wished she knew that he did not
see her "breakdown" as weakness, and that he was more impressed
than ever with her professionalism.  She had let down her guard
enough to let him see the depth of her humanity trembling within the
shell she usually projected.  Now he knew for certain what he had
always suspected: despite rumors to the contrary, Dana Scully was
not an ice-cold, dispassionate woman.  She was very human.  That
she was able to remain so impassive in the face of such extraordinary
circumstances as they confronted on a daily basis was due to her
intelligence and determination, not to any lack of sensitivity on her
part.  Once more he was struck by what a remarkable woman this
was, and gave thanks again that she had been assigned to work with
him.

	Skinner met them at the door of his office himself and
ushered them in, then went to sit behind his desk.  He accepted the
report Mulder had written while Scully had given her testimony and
went over it silently.  He watched out of the corner of his eye as both
Mulder and Scully seemed to fight to remain awake.  Mulder's head
kept nodding, but Scully's eyes would droop and then she would
come awake again with a jerk and a look of fear.  He finished reading
and looked up at them.  Sensing his attention they both straightened
up and awaited his comments.

	"Good work, you two," he said quietly.  "There are no holes
in this one.  Pfaster's going away permanently."  He turned to Scully.
"I see from this report that you were temporarily held hostage on this
case."

	Before she could respond Mulder jumped in.  "Lt. Bochs
is going to fax you a copy of her statement, sir."  Skinner eyed him.
Mulder was obviously protecting his partner, trying to prevent her
from having to go through the account of her ordeal again.  He
nodded.   Scully darted Mulder a look but said nothing.

	"Are you all right, Agent Scully?" Skinner asked in concern.

	Before Mulder could open his mouth she responded.  "I'm
fine, sir."

	Skinner eyed her warily.  She was *not* fine, and he knew
it.  Her face was bruised and scraped, and she was more pale than
he had ever seen her.  But what concerned him the most was that
look in her eyes.  She had the look of a hunted animal who has
been chased until it is utterly exhausted and turns to make one final
stand, knowing that it is lost.

	Scully had faced all the demons their cases had thrown at
her.  She had even been abducted and kept goodness knows where
for three months.  When she returned she had been more dead than
alive.  And now she had so narrowly missed becoming another of
Donnie Pfaster's pathetic victims. . . . Just how narrowly Skinner had
had to find out from Lt. Bochs; Mulder's report glossed over the details
of Pfaster's arrest.  He wondered whether Scully had insisted on this
or whether Mulder had done it himself to keep her from having to relive
it whenever she read the file.  He shuddered mentally as he thought
of just how close it had been.

	He frowned and made an executive decision.  "There are no
new cases at the moment.  Personnel also contacted me while you
were gone.  It seems neither of you has taken vacation time in
eighteen months.  This is a violation of federal guidelines.  You both
have the next week off, but stay in touch in case I need to contact
you.

	They stared at him, then at each other.

	"Get out of here."

	They rose numbly and walked to the door.  Mulder opened
it for her, then paused.  "Scully, I'll see you downstairs," he said
quietly, propelling her out the door.  She hesitated, then nodded and
walked away.  He turned to face Skinner, closing the door behind
him.  "Sir," he began.

	"Did I not make myself clear, Agent Mulder?" he growled.

	"Yes, sir," Mulder responded.  "I just -- thank you, sir.  For
Scully.  She wouldn't even let the paramedics check her out, but
she -- Pfaster really got to her."

	"How so, Agent Mulder?"

	The younger man fidgeted.  He reminded Skinner of a boy
afraid to be caught snitching on his friends.  An apt analogy.  "Well,
sir."  Mulder swallowed and made his decision.  "I have never seen
Scully emotional on any case, sir.  Or afraid.  But this guy. . . ."

	Skinner stopped him.  "Anyone would have been afraid,
Agent Mulder," he said.

	Mulder nodded.  "But Scully . . . I think she thinks she has
to be perfect, sir.  She's afraid she was unprofessional."

	"Was she?"

	He shook his head with conviction.  "No, sir.  Not at all.
She was just. . . ."

	"Human?" Skinner finished for him.  Mulder nodded
gratefully.  "Agent Mulder, we are not machines here.  If we lose our
humanity we lose the very edge that makes us different from the
monsters we chase.  Try to remember that."

	He nodded.

	"And try to convince Scully of it, too."  He paused.  "I want
you to spend part of this week with her if she'll let you, Agent Mulder.
She'll need someone to talk to, and I doubt her mother will fit the bill.
See if you can talk her into going home, though.  She needs to think
about something other than this case, and she needs someone to
watch over her."  He smiled.  "This isn't because she's a woman,
Mulder.  Agent Scully is a fine officer.  I respect her.  I would say the
same about any of my agents."  He reached for the telephone,
effectively dismissing Mulder.  "Just make sure she gets some rest.
I want you two back and ready for action next Monday."

	Mulder nodded.  "Yes, sir."  He turned and left the office,
softly closing the door behind him.  The man never failed to amaze
him.  Scully had told him how Skinner had effectively beaten his
location out of Mr. X so that Scully could follow him to Alaska.

	Downstairs, Scully was packing up her things when he
entered the office.  "Hey, Scully," he said breezily, beginning to
stack up his own belongings.

	She glared at him.  "How dare you?" she hissed.

	He stared at her, stunned.  "What are you talking about?"

	"You had no right," she began.  He cut her off.

	"Whoa, Scully, calm down.  First tell me what I'm supposed
to have done so I can prepare an adequate defense, okay?"

	"My mother just called," she said.

	"So?"

	"So -- she invited me down for the weekend -- and she
suggested I bring you," she finished with a scowl.

	He stared at her, genuinely nonplussed.  "And you're angry
at me because. . . ?"

	"Oh, come on, Mulder.  She obviously knew I was going on
leave.  You called her."

	He shook his head adamantly.  "No, I didn't."

	"Mulder, don't you dare sit there and lie to me. . . ."

	He raised his hands as if to ward her off.  "Scully, I swear I
didn't call her."

	Her eyebrows furrowed.  "Then how. . . ."

	His jaw dropped.  "Skinner."

	"Skinner?!?!"

	He nodded.  "He suggested to me that you should go to
your mother's house.  And he . . ." here he squirmed uncomfortably,
"also suggested I spend some time with you this week.  If you
would let me," he finished timidly.

	"WHAT?!"

	"Now, Scully. . . ."

	"How DARE he?  Treat me like a child?  Like a
WOMAN?!?!" she fumed, throwing files into her briefcase.

	"Scully, calm down.  It's not like that. . . ."

	"How do YOU know what it's like?  Oh, I see," she hissed.
"After I left you had your little meeting, didn't you?  All the men
gathered around to talk about little Dana Scully, a woman, who can't
even drive home from the airport without getting abducted.  Yeah, I
can see it now, your little men's club, sitting around discussing what
to do about me.  Was Cancerman there, Mulder?"

	"Scully, it wasn't like that. . . ."

	"Well, I don't need it, Mulder.  I don't need your coddling,
and your protecting, and your babying, and I DON'T NEED YOU!"
She was trembling as she finished and sat down.

	He stared at her for a moment, then nodded and dropped
his head.  She didn't need him.  That was just it.  He needed her,
but she didn't need him.  She never had.  She had a real future in the
Bureau -- hadn't he joked with her once that in a few years she would
be running the whole show?  Well, it was probably the truth.  They
had stuck her in this dead-end job to keep an eye on him, but she
had proven her worth.  When the X-Files had been closed she had
been given a prestigious instructorship at Quantico while he had been
stuck doing meaningless wiretap detail.  Even then she had risked
her neck for him one more time and had been abducted.  Returned
comatose and dying.  Inexplicably, she had recovered.  Even more
inexplicably, upon her return to the Bureau she had requested
reassignment to the newly reopened X-Files with him.  He had no idea
why she was wasting her time.

	There was nothing he could say.  Except one thing.

	"I'm sorry," she whispered.  He lifted his head.  "I didn't
mean that, Mulder.  I do . . . need you," she said softly.  "I do.
Even when I don't want to admit it."

	"Scully. . . ."

	"No, Mulder, let me finish.  Don't apologize -- it's not your
fault."  She took a deep breath.  "When you asked me in Minneapolis
if I was having trouble with this case -- I lied."  She looked down at
her lap, twisting her hands nervously.  "We've seen worse, I know.
But something . . . something about what he did to those girls. . . .
And then I started having dreams.  It was like . . . like I couldn't
separate my dreams from reality anymore.  I thought I was going
crazy."

	He shook his head.  "No, Scully.  You definitely weren't
crazy.  If I had to guess I'd say that maybe . . ." he took a deep
breath.  "Scully, maybe you were having some kind of precognitive
visions warning you. . . ."

	She gave a small, sardonic laugh.  "Well, they certainly
didn't help much, did they?"

	He crossed the room and squatted next to her chair, laying
his hand on her arm.  "Oh, Scully . . . why didn't you tell me?"

	She shrugged, facing away from him.  "Because I knew
you would be overprotective.  I was afraid . . ." she broke off and her
chin lifted defiantly.

	"You were afraid I would think you were weak," he finished
softly.  She turned and her eyes flashed at him, then she sighed
and nodded.  "Scully, I wouldn't have thought that.  You are the
strongest person I know."  She looked at him quizzically.  "Yes,
Scully.  Not the strongest *woman*, the strongest *person*.  What
we do," he went on quietly, "the things we see -- they're enough to
drive a seasoned agent to their knees.  Do I think this case affected
you more because you're a woman?  Yes."  She stared at him and
he hurried to continue.  "But not because that makes you any weaker.
It's because Pfaster attacked *women*.  Young women, attractive
women.  If he had attacked young, slightly spooky men *I* would have
been worried."

	She had to laugh.  It felt good.  He smiled gently at her.
"But I *was* worried -- about *you*.  Not because I didn't think you
could take care of yourself.  Because I'm your *partner*.  We have
to look out for each other.  And," he admitted softly, "in a way I was
looking out for myself."  She turned and stared at him.  He lowered
his eyes and his voice dropped to a whisper.  "Scully, I don't want
to lose you.  I can't."  He lifted his eyes to look into hers.  "Not ever
again."

	The moment grew.  They could feel the stillness of the
office.  Between them flowed that silent communion, an invisible
bridge spanning the distance between their minds, the cracks
formed by sorrow and despair and misunderstanding healing and
forging a stronger bond.

	Finally she smiled and offered him a hand up.  He smiled
back and took it, rising to tower over her.

	"Come on," she said.  "Mom's cooking spaghetti and I told
her we'd be there by noon."

			        -30-



Juliettt@mail.aol.com