For Just One Night IV by LittleJo

For Just One Night? IV by Little JO

STORIES ON THIS SITE ARE INTENDED FOR ADULTS ONLY

WARNING: Alternate Universe Alert!

Hi all. More than one person has grumbled about the plot holes the size of Winnebagos in *Avatar,* as well as Scully's apparent lack of belief in Skinner's innocence. So I thought I'd write a story that attempts to account for some (not all) of this, by putting *Avatar* in the context of an affair Skinner and Scully were carrying on at the time. I'm considering this piece as part of my "For Just One Night" story series, because it assumes a passionate and loving relationship between the two of them. But I guess you can also consider it a stand-alone story, if you'd like.

In any case, this story has absolutely no sex, just lots of Skinner and Scully angst, and maybe a little romance too.

DISCLAIMER: The X-files' universe, and all characters therein, are the property of CC and Co, 10-13 Productions and Fox TN. I'm just borrowing them, without permission. No copyright infringement intended.

For Just One Night IV by Little JO

Walter was married...had been married for 17 years...only separated for the past eight months...and Dana hadn't known.

FBI Headquarters Washington, D.C. Friday, June 28, 1996 9:00 p.m.

Dana Scully carefully placed the files she had been using in a neat stack on her desk and prepared to leave for the day. It was late, and Mulder had left hours ago. But Dana had insisted on staying behind and finishing up some reports that were due on Monday.

Dana had taken to staying behind a lot lately.

It had been almost four months since Walter had been reinstated in his position as Assistant Director, after the resolution of a bizarre case involving the death of a prostitute named Corinna Sayles. While Dana had been stunned when she found out that Skinner had picked up a woman in a bar and then taken her to bed, she had been even more stunned by the revelation that there was a Mrs. Walter S. Skinner.

*Sharon, Dana. Her name is Sharon.*

/At least they were practicing safe sex./

/She was a prostitute./

How she'd wanted to scream at Mulder, or throw something, when he'd said these things to her in the morgue where she had been carefully re-examining the prostitute's body for anything that might clear their boss--and Dana's lover--of the murder. Instead, Dana had tried to remain cool and detached, only a soft exhalation of breath indicating how deeply the information that Corinna Sayles was a prostitute had affected her.

*Why,* she'd thought, *why a prostitute? Why didn't he come to me?*

*Probably for the same reason he couldn't tell you that he had a wife, Dana,* a bitter voice inside her answered. *He didn't feel he could confide in you--that he could trust you.*

What else hadn't he told her?

Abruptly getting to her feet, she gathered her things together and walked out the office door. As she rummaged in her bag for keys so she could lock up, a shadow fell across her. Dana froze, every fiber of her being tensing.

Damn--she knew that cologne.

Deciding to ignore him for the moment, Dana finished locking up and then slowly turned to find Walter standing behind her.

"Excuse me, but you're standing in my way," she said, her eyes looking past him to focus on a dirty, yellow stain on the wall opposite them.

Walter's response was to step closer. "You haven't been returning my calls, Dana."

At the barely concealed anger in his voice, Dana's eyes slid from the wall to his face, coming to rest on his dark eyes. The voice communicated anger, but his eyes showed something else...

Was it hurt she saw there?

Dana felt a wave of emotional pain wash over her that was so intense she thought for a moment it would crush her beneath it's weight. It was a pain she'd experienced frequently over the course of the last few months--it often struck out of the blue, and for no apparent reason. But then the pain was gone, leaving anger in its wake.

*How dare he be hurt. How dare he.*

Her face a stony mask, she repeated her request. "I'd like to leave now, and you're standing in my way. Please move aside."

She watched as the pain in Walter's eyes flickered and then died, replaced with the same cold stare she knew her own eyes held.

"All right, Agent Scully. Have it your way." Turning his back on her, he quickly walked away, his retreating form swallowed up by the dimly lit hallway.

As she listened to his fading footsteps, Dana slumped against the door, fighting the tears that threatened to overflow.

Four months ago, there had been a part of her that had wanted nothing more than to forgive him; to forgive the lies and the subterfuge. But she couldn't--not now. Because she knew that as betrayed as she felt, he felt even more betrayed. She was the one who had wondered aloud to Mulder why Skinner didn't submit to a polygraph test, why he wasn't trying harder to prove his own innocence. And at some point in the investigation, Mulder must have passed on her skepticism, her doubts, to Walter--shattering what trust she and Walter did have between them. Walter's sense of betrayal had been all too apparent in the look the two of them had exchanged while she stood by the door waiting as Mulder asked Skinner how he'd known to be at the Ambassador Hotel Bar when he did. Walter's unwillingness to answer Mulder's question in her presence had only underscored that fact and had hurt almost more than finding out about Corinna and Sharon.

Since then, she had gone over in her mind again and again why she had been so willing, at first, to accept the evidence manufactured by the X-Files' enemies as the truth. Had she fallen back on her strict adherence to scientific objectivity because she genuinely believed that to do less would undermine the investigation into what had really happened; or, had her hurt over the prostitute and Sharon blinded her to other explanations; or, had it been some combination of both?

Dana had known about Walter's nightmares; had on more than one occasion comforted him when he'd awakened in a panic from one. But at the time she had accepted his explanation for them; that they were night terrors brought on by his experiences in Viet Nam. However, her concerns had mounted as the frequency of the dreams increased and his ability to remember what happened once she awakened him decreased. Knowing Walter as she did, Dana had hinted that perhaps he might want to seek help, but Walter had steadfastly ignored her carefully placed suggestions, instead preferring to deal with the problem in his own way, on his own.

Although Walter had never hurt her when in the grip of one of these nightmares, there had been times when it appeared that he might--as he had hung between sleep and waking--unaware of his surroundings, or who he was with. And then the incident with Corinna happened. The trauma to the woman's body had been extreme--her spine crushed--and the only prints on her body had been Walter's.

Dreading what she might find out, but at the same time needing to know, Dana had called sleep disorder clinics in the Washington, D.C. area to ask whether a Walter S. Skinner had sought treatment. As a result, she'd discovered yet another secret: that Walter had been a patient for three months at the Bethesda Sleep Disorders' Center, and that he was suffering from a recurrent dream in which an imaginary old woman sometimes straddled his chest, suffocating him as he lay sleeping.

Out of desperation, Dana had offered his sleep disorder as a possible explanation for the prostitute's death. At least then Walter couldn't be held responsible--he had killed the prostitute because he had genuinely thought he was in danger from this imaginary old woman. Self-defense, right?

In any case, she was never allowed to explain, to justify her actions to him--or even to apologize. He had gone back to Sharon, ostensibly to repair the damage to their marriage; although, rumor had it that within weeks they had again separated, this time for good.

Her head aching from the effort it took not to cry, Dana slowly made her way to the elevator and out into the warm June night.

11:21 p.m.

Walter sat in his townhouse apartment, sipping a scotch, and trying not to think about what had transpired between him and Dana in the hallway outside the X-Files' Division. He shouldn't have lain in wait for her like that, but he had been trying unsuccessfully to get in touch with her by phone for weeks, and had only done it as a last resort. Calling her into his office alone to talk was out of the question--Walter suspected that his office was bugged and didn't want to risk disclosing the nature of their relationship to his growing list of enemies.

*Past relationship, Walter. Past.*

Glancing around the living room at the boxes that he still hadn't unpacked after two and a half months, he had to wonder at his own blindness. In an effort to always appear strong and in control, he had hidden his fears and his weaknesses, not only from others, but from himself as well. And as a result, he had fallen prey to the secret forces within the government who had wanted him eliminated from the game, not by killing him this time, but by capitalizing on his fears and his own pig-headedness, thus setting him on a path to self-destruction.

Walter knew that what he had done was self-destructive, from the moment he had gone to bed with that woman in the bar, to his unwillingness to involve Mulder and Dana in what he saw as his problem alone. And Sharon had been right--he had been scared--scared that he had killed that woman in his sleep, scared that Dana would find out about Sharon, scared that he was losing his grip on reality.

Leaning forward, Walter started to pour himself another drink, then set the bottle of scotch back down. He'd already had too much. In fact, he'd been drinking a lot lately. It had started with one or two drinks at night, before bedtime, in an effort to keep the nightmares at bay. But even after the dreams had stopped, and he had been cleared of the charges against him, he had continued to drink. However, now he drank because he needed to numb himself to the ache he felt over the loss of his wife, of Dana, of his sense of himself.

After all that had happened, Walter had needed to give his marriage to Sharon one last chance. He couldn't accept that it was over until he'd made a Herculean effort to repair the damage done to their relationship; damage for which he felt largely responsible. But his return to Sharon had been short-lived, because, once again, Walter was deluding himself. Going back to Sharon was as much a function of what he had perceived as Dana's betrayal of him as it was of any sense of duty he had felt to his wife or their marriage.

However, since then, Walter had come to a different set of conclusions about Dana. It was true that, initially at least, Walter had felt that Mulder had done more to exonerate him of the crime than she had. More importantly, Mulder had never doubted his innocence, even when Walter himself had doubted it. But Walter hadn't allowed himself to consider that Dana might have been so hurt when she found out he'd lied to her, that she couldn't look beyond the evidence in front of her to see the larger picture. So, Walter had allowed his sense of betrayal and disappointment to come through loud and clear as his and Dana's eyes briefly met while she stood by the door in his office, waiting for her partner. His refusal to discuss how he'd known to be at the hotel with Mulder in front of her had only underlined what he'd felt at the time--a need to hurt her as much as she had hurt him.

Soon after that, he and Mulder had met outside of FBI Headquarters to talk more about Walter's experiences. During one of these meetings, Mulder had tried to bring up the topic of Dana, but had been met with a pronounced lack of interest from Skinner in discussing the matter.

/Agent Scully was just doing her job to the best of her abilities, sir, given the evidence we initially had to work with./

/I'm aware of that fact, Agent Mulder...Waitress, would you please bring the check?/

Walter winced when he remembered the look of surprise on Mulder's face. While Walter doubted that Mulder had known about his relationship with Dana, Walter's reaction on that particular occasion, taken with his violent outburst in the second district police station's interrogation room when he'd first learned of Scully's doubts, probably had tipped Mulder off that something more was going on than just a professional relationship between his boss and partner.

During the six weeks he'd tried to work things out with Sharon, he had studiously avoided running into Dana alone, thus heading off any confrontation between them about what had happened. He had gone to her apartment while she and Mulder had been out of town on a case to drop off some things she'd left at his place and to pack up the few personal items he'd left at hers. He had told himself that he had to make a clean break of things if he was serious about saving his marriage. But if he'd been serious about saving his marriage, why had he initiated an affair with Dana in the first place? Although there had been a strong physical attraction between them, he had also respected her for the very things that had made him feel betrayed in the end--her strength of purpose, her candor, her keen mind and her objectivity. But he also knew that he had fallen in love with her, not because of these things, but because of the other side he had seen--her vulnerability and compassion, her warmth and sense of humor, and the strong emotions she hid so well from others, but had revealed to him. And he had paid her back by not allowing any of his own vulnerabilities to show. He had omitted the fact that he had a wife and had balked at telling her about his own experiences with the unexplainable, including his growing belief that the old woman in his dreams had saved his life in Viet Nam.

Could he honestly have expected her to believe in him, in his innocence, when he had hidden so much from her, had erected a wall of lies and half-truths so high, that even he couldn't tell any more what was real and what wasn't?

*So, Walter, you left Dana, the woman you love, and whose trust you betrayed, to return to the wife you don't love, because you felt betrayed and angry that she didn't trust you?*

Walter winced as a sharp stabbing pain shot through his left temple.

"To hell with this," he mumbled, as he reached for the bottle and poured himself another drink.

Two hours later, Walter stood outside the outer door of the old brownstone Dana lived in, swaying slightly. After finishing off the

bottle of scotch, he'd decided he needed to talk to her--right now. Although a part of his mind knew that this was an asinine idea, given how drunk he was, another part of his mind was functional enough to dial the number of a local cab company. So, there he stood, trying to get up the courage to actually press the buzzer and ask--no beg--to be let in.

Stabbing a finger at what he hoped was the right doorbell, he waited impatiently for Dana's voice to come over the intercom.

"Who is it?"

Hesitating for only a moment, Walter said, "It's me, Dana. Please let me in."

Walter assumed that the intervening pause was so Dana could figure out exactly who "me" was. He was wrong.

"Go away Walter. I don't want to talk to you--especially when you're drunk."

Unable to help himself, Walter's voice began to rise in volume as all the frustration he'd been feeling over the past several weeks came to the fore.

"I'm not going anywhere. We've avoided talking for long enough, Dana, so--please--open the damn door.

When he didn't get a response, he added for effect, "I'll stay here all night if I have to."

To show that he would make good on his promise, he lowered himself to the ground so that he was now sitting on the top step, his back to the door.

During this exchange, Dana had cracked open the door to her apartment so she could see Walter as he sat with his head in his hands on the apartment's front stoop. She knew how stubborn Walter could be, so if he said he was prepared to stay all night, then he would stay all night. She also knew that if she didn't let him in, one of her neighbors would probably call the police. And as hurt and angry as she still was, she didn't want that--Walter had seen the inside of enough police stations in recent months to last him a lifetime. So with a sigh, Dana opened the outer door.

"Okay Walter, you can come in--but only for a few minutes--got it?"

At her grudging invitation, Walter climbed heavily to his feet and brushed past her into her apartment. Feeling a bit unsteady, he plopped down into the chair facing the couch, his long limbs sprawled loosely about him.

Dana gingerly sat down on the edge of the sofa and contemplated the man sitting across from her. Although he was still toned, he'd clearly lost a lot of weight recently. His face was haggard--there were dark circles under his eyes, and what looked like permanent frown lines between his eyebrows and at the corners of his mouth. She'd heard through the office grapevine that he'd been a real bastard to work for recently, although she and Mulder were always treated with the greatest respect when they found themselves called into the A.D.'s office.

Unable to help herself, Dana leaned forward, and rested a small hand on his knee. "You look like hell, Walter."

With great effort, Walter lifted his head from where he had been resting it on the back of the chair, and stared at her through bleary eyes.

"You don't look so hot yourself, Dana."

Flushing angrily, Dana drew back from him, removing her hand.

"Maybe I've lost a little weight, but..."

"You've lost too much weight. If you lose any more you'll disappear. Poof!"

Dana suppressed the sudden urge to laugh, knowing full well that if she did start she probably wouldn't be able to stop. So instead, she carefully folded her hands in her lap and said, "Okay, Walter, you said you wanted to talk to me--so talk."

Walter, who'd managed to straighten up somewhat in the chair, frowned.

"You're not making this easy, Dana."

Dana dismissed his comment with a wave of her hand. "I don't think this is supposed to be easy, Walter."

"True," he mumbled. Then Walter took a deep breath, held up the index finger of his right hand and began the carefully prepared speech he'd rehearsed repeatedly during the cab ride to Dana's.

"First, let me say that I'm sorry for lying to you. I should never have tried to hide the fact that I had a wife from you--even if we were separated at the time.

"Second," he said as another finger popped up, "please believe me when I say that I never, ever meant to hurt you.

"Third," this time he held up one more finger than necessary, "I know I acted as if I were the one who was betrayed. But--and I've had a lot of time to think about it--it was me who betrayed you. I betrayed *your* trust. And I had no right to expect more from you than I myself was willing to give.

"Fourth," Walter stopped, scowling when he realized he'd run out of fingers. "Um, fourth...and this is really important, so listen carefully. I've missed you, Day. I love you--I love you and I need you and I want you back in my life."

As Walter talked, Dana sat perfectly still, conflicting emotions at war inside her.

Dana knew that the anger she felt had ceased to be useful long ago. At first, when she'd realized that it was over between her and Walter, she had been too numb to feel much of anything. But then the grief and the pain had come. The anger, at him and at herself, had helped to mask that pain--it had allowed Dana to keep doing her job, to keep functioning in the world.

But with Walter sitting in front of her, and his words lingering in her ears, Dana felt some of that anger dissolve, revealing the pain she felt underneath.

*He's sorry...loves you...needs you...He wants you back.*

But could she accept what he was saying to her now as the truth when he'd hid so much from her?

Leaning forward, Dana carefully asked, "What about Sharon, Walter?"

Walter shook his head. "Over, Dana. I signed the divorce papers last week."

Dana suddenly felt the tears she'd been trying so hard to keep inside begin to fall.

"What about the part I played in their plan to frame you, Walter. What about that?" she whispered.

Walter, who until that moment looked as drunk as he was, snapped to attention--his dark eyes clearing, albeit only temporarily.

"You were doing your job, Dana. You were following up on the evidence you had before you and you did it thoroughly and with an eye to solving the case, to finding out the truth. It's what you do best, and it's what makes you and Mulder such a formidable team."

As if this had taken the last of his energy, Walter sagged in the chair, closing his eyes.

Dana sat watching him, too shaken to move. Finally, when his breathing had slowed and deepened she got up, tucking an afghan around him as he slept. Then she bent over, softly brushing her lips against his forehead.

As she turned to leave, Walter reached out a hand to stop her. Looking into her clear blue eyes, he gently said, "And you were hurt Dana--it's okay to be hurt."

"I know, Walter, and so were you. And I'm sorry for the part I played in that hurt, no matter how small."

Tugging on her hand, Walter grinned sleepily. "Join me?"

Dana stood for a moment, thoughtfully considering his request.

"Um, don't you think we'd both get a better night's sleep in the bedroom?"

His drowsiness disappearing, Walter pushed himself to his feet. "I was hoping you'd say that."

Smiling, Dana observed Walter as he carefully made his way towards her room, listing to one side. But when he abruptly stopped in the middle of her living room, as a wave of dizziness washed over him, Dana quickly moved to his side. Wrapping her arms around his waist, she slowly guided him towards the bedroom.

Once they reached her bed, Dana helped him to get settled, then she undressed, pulling on an old Navy t-shirt of his that he'd missed when he'd reclaimed his things. She'd worn it almost constantly for the last four months--because it reminded her of him and because, deep inside, she'd hoped that she would be able to return it to him herself someday.

Sure that he was really asleep this time, Dana curled up beside him in bed, reaching down to tug the covers up over them. She was startled when Walter suddenly struggled to pull himself into a sitting position.

"Day?"

Hearing the urgency in his voice, Dana stretched out a reassuring hand towards him. "Yeah, Walter, I'm here. Come, lie back down--you need to sleep."

Fretting slightly, Walter sank down beside her. God, he was tired, but he couldn't go to sleep--not just yet. He needed to tell her...

"Have to tell you something...about the old woman...that I never told you..."

Propping herself up on her elbow, Dana gently stroked his face with her fingers, patiently waiting for him to continue. When he didn't, she prompted him. "Yes, Walt, go on..."

Walter, fighting to stay awake, continued. "In Nam...I was...a dead man...she saved me...she carried me away from the light...away from the light."

Leaning down to catch the next words softly murmurred before sleep overcame him, Dana's eyes widened with surprise.

"I believe."

Momentarily stunned, Dana lay back down beside him, her thoughts in a whirl.

/Whatever I believe may have happened, it has no place on an official report./

He believed. He believed that the old woman was more than just a dream, that she had actually intervened on his behalf, had saved him. And despite her skepticism of all things paranormal, Walter had just shared his belief with her--demonstrated his trust in her.

Staring into the dark, Dana fingered the delicate cross at her throat. Then she smiled.

If he believed, in her and in them, how could she do any less?

THE END.