Internal Affairs 

By Brandon D. Ray
publius@avalon.net


DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT:  Anywhere and everywhere, so long as my name
stays on it and no money changes hands.

SPOILER WARNING: Minor spoiler for Anasazi/The Blessing Way/Paperclip

RATING:  PG

CONTENT WARNING:  Language

CLASSIFICATION:  SA, MSR

SUMMARY:  Mulder and Scully aren't speaking to each other.  Skinner
wants to know why.

INTERNAL AFFAIRS (1/4)

by Brandon D. Ray (publius@avalon.net)


Written in response to my own challenge, to wit:  Try to write a story,
any classification, any category, which takes place entirely within the
J. Edgar Hoover Building.  No one goes out for a cigarette; no one makes
or receives any outside phone calls -- nothing.

Here goes.

MONDAY
8:34 a.m.

FBI Assistant Director Walter Skinner was known throughout the Bureau as
a meticulous man. He had built this public image over the course of more
than two decades of federal law enforcement, and he held the reputation
for one simple reason:  It was true.

Whether he was coaching his nephew's soccer team, or supervising the
most complicated and dangerous of sting operations, he was never willing
to settle for half measures.  And if he was sometimes a little tough on
the people under his supervision, they were willing to accept that,
because they all knew that he was even tougher on himself.

Still, that didn't mean that what he was about to do was going to be
easy.  <<No one ever promised you that ANYTHING in life would be easy,
Walter>> he reminded himself.

A few moments earlier, his secretary had buzzed to let him know that the
two agents he had summoned had arrived.  He had told her to have them
wait, and had taken these last few minutes to collect his thoughts, and
steel himself for what lay ahead.  Now he settled himself behind his
desk, adjusted the pencil lying next to his blotter so that it was
PRECISELY at right angles to the edge of the desk, and pushed the
intercom button.  "Send them in."

The door opened, and Special Agents Dana Scully and Fox Mulder entered
the room.  As Mulder shut the door, Skinner reflected on the fact that
he seemed to spend more "face time" with these two agents than he did
with any other four agents in his area.  That might have bothered some
supervisors, but to Skinner it was just part of the job -- and he knew
also that he got more and better work out of these two than out of any
other team he had ever had in his employ.

Until recently.

He rocked back in his chair and looked at them for a moment, standing
side by side in front of his desk.  Normally, there was an almost
visible bond tying the two together, and an aura extending outwards that
aggressively proclaimed their partnership, keeping all strangers (which
meant, in reality, everyone but themselves) at arm's length.  This had
never bothered Skinner; he had long ago intuited that this was one of
the principle reasons why the two were so effective.

But today -- and for the last two weeks -- it was different.

They had returned on a Friday afternoon from an assignment in Vermont.
They had successfully concluded the assignment, in their usual
unorthodox style, and when Skinner spoke to them briefly that afternoon,
they had been tired, but otherwise perfectly normal (at least by their
own standards).

The following Monday, however, everything had changed.  It had been as
if a wall of ice had suddenly appeared between them.  They had been
civil, correct, professional -- but there was no spark, no energy.

Skinner had assumed at first that they had simply had an argument about
something -- hardly a new experience for them -- and that it would blow
over in a day or two.  But it did not, and before long it had begun to
affect their work.

At the heart of it, of course, was the self-evident fact that they were
no longer communicating.  Normally their ability to sense each other's
thoughts and intentions, and to coordinate their activities, bordered on
the telepathic.  Now, however, they seemed perpetually out of step; the
reports they submitted showed at first a certain sloppiness, then a
clearly willful lack of cooperation.  Going over their paperwork this
past Friday evening, Skinner had come to the unhappy conclusion that he
would have to intervene, before they slid over into outright negligence.

He cleared his throat.  "Agent Scully.  Agent Mulder.  Thank you for
coming.  I'm sorry I had to keep you waiting."  He looked at the two
faces across the desk from him:  Hers, as always, would do credit to the
Sphinx; surprisingly, his was also completely blank.  Normally Mulder's
face was a roadmap to his emotions, but not today.  He was as cold and
walled-off as his partner.

Skinner cleared his throat again.  "As you both know, the Bureau takes
no official interest in the personal business of its employees.
However, when that personal business intrudes into your official duties,
the Bureau must become involved."  No reaction.  Skinner sighed
inwardly.  This was going even worse than he had feared.  Well, nothing
to do but push ahead.

"I believe that we now face such a situation," he continued.  "Believe
me; I take no pleasure in having called this meeting, and I would rather
be doing almost anything else rather than invading your privacy.
However, the rapid deterioration of the quality of your work leaves me
no alternative."  He paused again, not expecting an answer, but because
it was only fair to give them, either individually or as a pair, a
chance to respond.

To his surprise, it was Scully who spoke.  Normally she was the quiet
one, and it was Mulder who was outspoken, even verging on more than one
occasion on insubordination.  The only exception was when she perceived
that Mulder was in jeopardy, at which point she came out and fought like
a lioness.  He remembered one evening when he had found himself looking
at the wrong end of her Sig Sauer....  He shook himself, and realized
that he hadn't actually been listening to what she was saying.

"I must apologize, Agent Scully; I was distracted by a passing thought.
Would you be willing to repeat your comment?"  <<Damn!>> he thought.
<<This is not going well at all.>>

"I said, sir," she replied icily, "that I do not believe it is any
business of the Bureau what goes on in... MY...private life.  If that is
what this meeting is about, I must ask to be excused."

"As I have indicated, Agent Scully --"

She cut him off.  "Sir, I do not believe you can find any fault in my
conduct.  I have been unfailingly correct, professional and courteous.
And *I* have in no way violated the ethical standards of the Bureau, or
of the Department."  The slight stress on the word "I" in the last
sentence was impossible to miss.

Skinner's eyes flicked over to Mulder.  It was not lost on him that
Scully was defending only herself, and he was curious to see how her
partner was taking it.

Still a complete stoneface...Jesus.  This was bad.  Skinner drummed his
fingers on the desktop and looked at the two agents.  He decided on a
frontal assault.  If he couldn't slide past the wall with reason,
perhaps he could batter it down.  He winced inwardly at the simile, but
didn't see that he had any choice.

"With due respect, Agent Scully, that is not an acceptable response.
You are dodging the issue.  While your CONDUCT has been beyond reproach,
your work product -- your reports, the disposition of your cases, and
the like -- has been completely unacceptable.  Unacceptable, Agent
Scully."  He bored in on her, hoping to reestablish the contact he
normally had with her.  Their relationship paled in comparison to her
bond with Mulder, but it was contact.  But not today.

"I'm sorry that you feel that way, sir.  May I ask why *I* am being
singled out for criticism?  I am, after all, only one member of
the...TEAM...to which I have been assigned.  If I may say so, sir, this
interview is not up to your usual standard of fairness."  Still, her
face remained cold, distant and expressionless.

Again, Skinner sighed.  She had a point; he HAD been singling her out.
But that was only because she was the first one -- the only one, so far
-- who had responded.  Normally, these interviews were characterized by
sharp exchanges between himself and Mulder, punctuated by Scully's
intervention on Mulder's behalf.  But again, today the script was
different.

"That's a fair point, Agent Scully."  He shifted his eyes to Mulder
again.  "Agent Mulder, have you got anything to contribute to this
conversation?  This is, after all, at least as much your problem as it
is Agent Scully's."

"No, sir."

<<'No, sir' what?>> Skinner wondered.  No, he didn't have anything to
contribute, or no, it wasn't his problem?  Jesus, he was losing control
of this entire conversation.  He had rehearsed it in his mind all
weekend, but none of his scenarios had gone like this.

While he didn't understand any better than when they started what the
problem was, one thing was becoming clear:  The longer he held them in
his office, the more they were each digging in their heels.  He had to
break this up, cut his losses, and give some more thought to the
situation before he tried again.  He nodded sharply.

"Very well, Agents.  If either of you -- or both of you -- should change
your minds, and wish to talk, my door will be open.  You are
dismissed."  And the two agents left, but not together.

#          #          #

12:47 p.m.

Skinner sat in the cafeteria, pushing his chef's salad around on the
plate.  He'd spent the morning mulling over the disasterous interview
with Mulder and Scully, and reached no good conclusions.  He'd reviewed
his initial analysis, even read through their reports again, and been
reassured, at least, in his own views.  His conclusions were correct:
there WAS a problem, and it had to be addressed.  The only question was
HOW.

Finally, he shook his head, stood up, and carried his tray to the
disposal.  This wasn't getting him anywhere, and he had other work to
do.  He wouldn't -- couldn't -- wash his hands of Agents Mulder and
Scully, but maybe if he took the afternoon and evening to do his other
work, and think about other things, his subconscious would find the clue
he was missing.

Maybe they would even solve the problem themselves -- they were good at
solving problems.  But he couldn't count on it, and he was determined
not to let his best agents self-destruct like this.  It just wasn't
going to happen -- not if Walter Skinner had anything to say about it.

#          #          #

TITLE:  Internal Affairs (2/4)

AUTHOR:  Brandon D. Ray (publius@avalon.net)

HEADERS:  At the beginning of Part 1


TUESDAY
1:17 p. m.

Skinner finished reading the report on the Dennison matter, scribbled a
few notes in the margin at the bottom, and closed the folder with a
sigh.  He took off his glasses, closed his eyes and rubbed his nose.
Twenty years in this business, and these cases could still get to him
sometimes -- especially the ones involving children.

The buzzer on his intercom sounded.  Glaring at the device, he punched
the talk button.  "Skinner."

"Sir, Agent Mulder is here to see you.  He doesn't have an appointment,
but he is very insistent."

"Send him in," the Assistant Director replied, and switched off the
intercom.  Hastily, he put his glasses back on, and dropped the Dennison
file in his out box.  He looked up expectantly, just as Mulder entered
the room.  The agent closed the door, and crossed the room to stand in
front of Skinner's desk.

Not knowing what to expect, hoping for the best, but fearing the worst,
Skinner gestured to one of the visitor chairs.

Mulder shook his head.  "I won't need that much of your time, sir.  I'm
here to request a transfer to the VCU."

Skinner stared at the tall, lanky agent in disbelief.  MULDER was
requesting a transfer away from the X-Files?  MULDER?  "This -- this
comes as quite a surprise, Agent Mulder," he managed to stutter out.

"I realize that, sir.  However, I've been thinking about what you said
yesterday, and I believe that this is in the best interests both of
myself and of the Bureau."

Skinner realized that he was continuing to stare at Mulder.  He shook
himself and forced himself to look away.  His eyes fell again on the
visitor's chair.  "Please...sit down, Agent Mulder," he said, and waited
while the man reluctantly complied.

Skinner contemplated the agent's face for a moment.  Mulder was still
wearing the same mask as yesterday.  Skinner shook his head slightly,
and said, "A decision to transfer to another unit is not one to be
lightly entered into.  You have been doing excellent work in your
current assignment, and I would be loathe to see you throw that all
away."

"I understand that, sir," Mulder responded coolly.  "However, in this
instance, I think it would be best for...everybody."

Suddenly Skinner was angry.  "*I* will be the one who decides what is
best for 'everybody', Agent Mulder," he snapped, and instantly regretted
it.

"Yes, sir," Mulder replied, no change of expression visible on his
face.  "Forgive me, sir.  I was merely expressing my views; I had no
intention to overstep my proper bounds.  Sir."

Skinner stared.  Normally, by this point in an interview Mulder would be
pounding on his desk and yelling.  This cold formalism was far more
disturbing than any yelling, precisely because it was so totally out of
character.  If he had had any doubts that something was really, really
wrong in that basement office, they were now completely banished.  He
decided to steer the subject back to the matter at hand.  "Agent Mulder,
I assume that you are aware that, if you DO transfer to Violent Crimes,
it will almost certainly not be possible for you to transfer back to the
X-Files at a future date."  <<Come on, Mulder,>> he thought.  <<It's a
one-way door, and you know that as well as I do.  Don't do this!>>

"I am aware of that, sir," was the only reply.

Skinner drummed his fingers on the desk top, and Mulder sat in the chair
staring back at him.  All he could think of was to confront the man
again -- yet that had not worked yesterday.  Maybe if he tried a more
conciliatory approach.

"Agent Mulder," he said, and paused.  How should he put this?  "Agent,
Mulder, as I indicated yesterday, I am quite concerned about
the...situation as it exists between yourself and Agent Scully."  No
response.  "Your work has been suffering, and I am certain that it can
only be a matter of time before the matter is noticed -- and taken up --
by HIGHER AUTHORITIES."  He deliberately stressed the last two words,
and he was certain that Mulder knew exactly who he was talking about.
"I would like to take this opportunity to repeat my offer of yesterday:
If there is anything I can do or say which would be helpful, please say
so."

The man hesitated, then said firmly, "I don't believe there is anything
anyone can do, sir.  Other than to accept my request for transfer."

"A referral to the Employee Assistance Program --" Skinner began, but
Mulder cut him off.

"With due respect, sir, I would like to decline.  We both know that an
EAP referral can place a black mark next to an employee's name."

<<Mulder is worrying about a black mark?>> Skinner wondered.  <<What's
one more spot to a leopard?>>  He shrugged slightly.  Well, he'd made
the offer.  "So is there nothing I can do, Agent Mulder?"  <<Talk to me,
Mulder!>>

"Other than to facilitate my transfer, no sir."

Skinner stood staring across the desk at the recalcitrant agent  for
another moment.  Finally, he nodded reluctantly.  "Very well, Agent
Mulder.  I will take your request under consideration.  You are
dismissed."

Mulder stood up.  He started to head for the door, then turned back, and
said hesitantly, "When --""

"I said you are dismissed, Agent Mulder!" Skinner snapped.  Mulder
nodded and left the room.

#          #          #

3:49 p.m.

Skinner stared across the desk at Agent Scully.  "So you are requesting
a transfer to Pathology?" he asked.  <<Didn't I just have this
conversation a couple of hours ago?>>

"Yes sir."

"May I ask why?"

"I believe I already explain my reasoning, sir.  I believe it is in the
best interests of the Bureau."

Skinner decided to ignore the statement.  He hadn't handled that issue
at all well in speaking to Agent Mulder.  "I wonder if you fully
appreciate the consequences of your request, Agent Scully."

"Sir, I believe I have --"

He raised a hand and cut her off.  "Attend me, please.  I do not know if
you are aware of it, but two hours ago Agent Mulder came to my office
and requested a transfer to Violent Crimes."  Normally, he would not
dream of revealing the contents of a confidential interview with one
employee to another employee.  This situation, however, seemed to
warrant it.  "If I transfer you to Pathology, and Agent Mulder to the
VCU, the X-Files will be shut down.  If that should happen, they will
remain shut down.  Neither you, nor Agent Mulder, nor anyone else, will
be able to reopen them for the foreseeable future."

Scully shrugged slightly.  "The X-Files have been an
interesting...diversion," she said.  "However, I believe that I have
long since completed the assignment I was given by Section Chief
Blevins.  My talents are being wasted on this project, and my career has
been sidetracked.  At one time I thought that there might be
other...compensations.  However, I have come to the conclusion that this
is not the case.  I therefore request transfer.  Sir."

As he had with Mulder, Skinner became angry.  He whipped off his
glasses, and said, "Let's cut the crap, shall we Agent Scully?  This
isn't about the Bureau, and this isn't about your career, and we both
know it.  This is about --"

"Sir --"

He overrode her.  "This is about you and Agent Mulder.  Now, I don't
know what happened down there in your little cubbyhole, and frankly, I
don't care.  It's none of my business, and there is no requirement by
the Bureau or by myself that the agents working in this unit be friends.

"But I do expect you to work together -- and to work on your assigned
cases.  In the past, I have had complete confidence in the ability of
the X-Files unit to accept and master any challenge I posed to it, but
in the last two weeks my confidence has been badly shaken.  I am willing
to do anything in my power to see that confidence restored.  What I am
NOT willing to do is see the most successful team it has ever been my
pleasure to supervise broken up by some irrelevant triviality."

As soon as the words cleared his lips, he knew he had made a mistake.
Agent Scully rose from her chair, her entire body trembling with anger.
"Sir," she said, in a slightly strangled voice, "may I have permission
to speak freely?"

"Go ahead," he said, dreading what he knew was about to come.  <<But you
brought it on yourself, didn't you, Walter?>>

"Sir," the agent said, barely controlled fury hovering around the edges
of her words.  "I do not believe that I deserved to be subjected to
that, that tirade.  I have made a legitimate and reasonable request.  I
have spent FIVE YEARS of my life working on this project, and I have
done the very best I could.  That far exceeds any reasonable commitment
which could be construed from my original acceptance of the assignment
given me by Section Chief Blevins.  I now feel that I have done all that
I can with this project, and I wish to be transferred, immediately, to
another unit, where I can put my talents to better use.  I have nothing
further to contribute, either to the X-Files or, for that matter, to
this conversation."  And she turned and stalked out of the room.

#          #          #

TITLE:  Internal Affairs (3/4)

AUTHOR:  Brandon D. Ray (publius@avalon.net)

HEADERS:  At the beginning of Part 1


THURSDAY
11:03 a.m.

Two days had passed.  During that time, Skinner had surreptitiously
observed the two agents of the X-Files unit as they moved about the
building performing their duties.  Once had even gone to their office,
but found the almost palpable aura of hostility -- both between the two
agents and also directed at him -- to be overwhelming.  Lacking a really
good reason for being there, he had beat a hasty retreat.

Nothing seemed to be changing -- at least, not for the better.  And if
Skinner knew anything about human psychology, that was a very bad sign.
It meant, in all probability, that the battle lines had been drawn, and
the two of them were sitting there brooding, each reinforcing his or her
own self-justifications for whatever it was that was upsetting them.

<<Maybe I should just approve their transfer requests and be done with
it,>> he thought.  <<They each say that's what they want; maybe I should
just do it.>>  He eyed the telephone.  All it would take would be two
brief phone calls -- and he knew that "higher authorities" would take
the ball and run with it.

Except that that wasn't Walter Skinner's way.  <<You can't run away from
this, Walter,>> he thought.  <<That's not why they pay you the big
bucks.>>

Sighing, he reached out and touched the intercom button.  "Please ask
Agents Mulder and Scully to come to my office."  He didn't know what he
was going to say to them, but he had to try something.

It took them less than three minutes to arrive.  Skinner sat in his
swivel chair as they walked across the room and stood in front of his
desk, just as they had on Monday.  "Please be seated, Agents," he said.
After a moment's hesitation, they both sat down.

"Thank you for coming so promptly," he said.  "I know that you have a
heavy workload, and I appreciate the fact that you were able to break
away."

"Did we have a choice?"

"I believe we always have choices, Agent Scully."  He held up his hand
to forestall any response.  "Sorry; I didn't ask you up here to debate
philosophy."  He took a deep breath.  <<Here goes nothing.>>  "But I
think you both know why I DID call you up here.  So how about it?  What
gives?"  He tried to make his voice light and genial.

For the first time in nearly three weeks, Skinner saw the two agents
actually look at each other.  It was just the briefest glance, but it
was there.

He decided to press his advantage, as small as it might be.  "Agents,"
he said, looking first at one, then at the other.  "I am utterly,
completely serious.  This situation cannot be permitted to continue."
Again he raised his hand in order to hold the floor.  "As I said
previously, I have no desire -- none -- to interfere in your private
lives.  By the same token, however, your private lives cannot be
permitted to interfere with the Bureau's business, either.

"I am asking you, therefore, in my official capacity as your supervisor,
to try to find some way to resolve this unpleasantness.  Otherwise, I
will have no choice but to approve your transfer requests.  And I can't
believe either one of you really wants that."

He looked from Mulder to Scully and back to Mulder.  She was still
playing Sphinx, and Mulder was doing his best to emulate her.  Skinner
sighed, and went on, "In the interest of trying to settle the matter on
the best possible terms, I would like to offer you the use of my office,
as a sort of 'neutral territory', a place where you can talk things
out.  I can stay in the room as a sort of referee -- or I can leave the
two of you alone to work it out in private."

Again, Skinner looked from one to the other, trying to gauge their
reactions, but as far as he could tell, there was none.

At last, Mulder said, "Sir, may I be excused?"

Skinner sighed.  He'd been doing that a lot this week.  "Very well,
Agent Mulder.  If that is your wish."  As the other man rose from his
chair and walked towards the door, the Assistant Director turned his
gaze to Agent Scully.

"Agent Scully?" he asked, raising his eyebrows slightly.

She hesitated just the briefest of moments, then said firmly, "I don't
think I have anything I wish to say to...anyone.  Sir."

"Then you are also excused," he replied.

"Thank you, sir."  And she also rose and left.

#          #          #

FRIDAY
12:58 p.m.

Skinner left the cafeteria holding two cups of coffee:  one black, the
other two sugars, no cream.  He took the elevator back to his floor, but
instead of going to his office, he stopped at the conference room down
the hall, and pushed the door open with his elbow.

Agent Scully was already waiting for him.  He had decided after
yesterday's fiasco that he had to make one last attempt to get through
the barrier, and it hadn't really been hard for him to conclude that his
best chance lay with Dana Scully.  Although he was close to both of the
agents, his relationship with her was particularly..."intimate" was not
quite the right word.  "Significant", perhaps.

But whatever the correct phrasing was, he knew that if he could just get
past the mysterious barrier she had erected between herself and the rest
of the world, he would be able to reestablish contact with her.  Of
course, if he failed...

He pushed the thought from his mind.  <<Failure is not an option!>> he
thought, quoting a line from one of his favorite movies.

Unfortunately, this was not a movie.

He quickly crossed the room to where she sat waiting at the conference
table, and placed the sweetened cup of coffee in front of her.  She
looked up at him with dead, opaque eyes as he took the seat next to her
and set his own cup down next to hers, then turned to face her.
<<There's so much pain in there,>> he thought, and wished desperately
that he didn't have to be doing this.  But the boil had to be lanced,
for her own sake if for no other reason.  Otherwise she'd never get
whatever poison it was out of her system.  He just hoped it wasn't too
late to do her any good.

"Agent Scully," he said, then stopped.  No, that was wrong.  Try again.
"Dana."  He saw her eyes widen ever so slightly at his use of her first
name.  "I want to start by apologizing for the scene in my office
Tuesday afternoon."  <<Take it slow, Walter; take it easy.  You've got
her attention, don't blow it!>>

"Sir, it is not necessary --"

"*I* think it is necessary," he said, cutting her off.  "I am trying to
do my job, and my...professional concerns were and are legitimate.  But
during that conversation I stepped over the line; I went too far."

He paused to let her think about that for a moment.  <<Come on,>> he
thought.  <<Let me in.  Talk to Uncle Walter.>>

Finally, she nodded.  "Okay,"  she said.  And Skinner rejoiced at the
first, tentative sign of a thaw.  "Okay, so you've apologized.  Is that
all?"

Skinner shook his head, and said,  "No."  And he waited.

She looked at him for a moment or two, then seemed for the first time to
notice the coffee he'd brought her.  She picked it up and took a
cautious sip.  "Nice," she said.  "No cream, two sugars.  Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Another long silence.  At last, she said, "I guess I don't understand
where this conversation is going.  You have already addressed the issue,
both with myself and with...."  She let the sentence trail off and
gestured vaguely with her hands.  Then she continued, "You have said you
don't want to pry into my personal life, and you have even apologized
for having done so.  On the other hand, you haven't acted on...the
transfer requests."  Again, Skinner rejoiced; she was no longer speaking
ENTIRELY of herself, even if the references to Mulder were pretty damned
oblique.  "At least, so far as I know you have not."  She looked at him
questioningly.

Skinner shook his head again.  "No, Agent Scully," he replied.  "I have
not acted upon the transfers requested by yourself and Agent Mulder.
However, I think we both understand that I cannot sit on them
indefinitely."  She nodded slowly.  "As to where this conversation is
going..."  He stopped and thought about it, and then said the only thing
that Walter Skinner could say:  "That's entirely up to you, Dana."

Her eyes flew to his at the second use of her personal name.  "I see,"
she said.  "And suppose I decide to just get up and leave?"

Skinner gestured at the door.  "You know the way," he said, and on an
inspiration added, in the lightest possible tones, "Don't let the door
hit you in the ass on the way out."

Involuntarily, she gave a half chuckle. "You sounded just like --"  And
then she stopped, and her face shut down completely.  Her body language,
which had been gradually becoming more open, turned cramped and hunched
over, and for a few vital, eternal seconds, she didn't breathe at all,
and neither did Skinner.

And then Dana Scully started to cry.

Skinner blinked in astonishment.  <<Jesus!>> he thought.  <<I didn't
expect THIS!  Now what??>>

He sat watching, helplessly, as great wracking sobs coursed through her
body.  Her shoulders heaved, and her hands sat limp and useless in her
lap, while tears leaked out from behind eyelids that were squinched
tightly shut.

Skinner had seen employees cry before -- any supervisor had.  But
usually he had at least an intellectual understanding of what was
causing the upset, and this time he didn't have a clue, beyond the fact
that it obviously concerned her relationship with her partner.

Tentatively, he reached out a hand and gently touched her shoulder, but
she knocked it away.  And so he just sat there, helpless, and watched
her weep.

Finally, she started to wind down.  The sobs gave way to sniffles, and
she felt around in the pockets of her suit jacket until she found a
Kleenex, and she blew her nose into it loudly.

"That was quite a performance, Agent Scully," he commented at last,
cautiously.

She laughed slightly, reassuring him.  "I guess it was.  I'll bet you
didn't know I had it in me."

"I am constantly surprised at the range and versatility of the agents in
my employ," he intoned solemnly, and was inwardly delighted to hear her
laugh again, a little bit stronger this time.

"Bet you got more than you bargained for in my case," she replied, and
finally was able to meet his eyes.  "Sorry...Walter," she said.

"No need to apologize, Agent Scully," he said, instinctively putting on
his business hat again.  "We all have our individual strengths and
weaknesses, and occasionally we all need  a chance to...blow off steam."

"Yes, sir."  She rose from her seat.  "May I be excused, sir?  I feel I
should be getting back to work."

"Certainly, Agent Scully.  I have no desire to keep you from your work."

#          #          #

TITLE:  Internal Affairs (4/4)

AUTHOR:  Brandon D. Ray (publius@avalon.net)

HEADERS:  Are at the beginning of Part 1


FRIDAY
10:13 p.m.

Walter Skinner wearily closed the folder he was working on and placed it
in his out box.  <<One more to go,>> he thought.  <<Then I can go
home.>>

It had been a long afternoon and evening.  He had returned to his office
after the interview with Dana Scully completely drained of energy, as if
HE were the one who had had the emotional breakdown.  Then he had waited
anxiously in his office, hoping against hope for a visit or a phone call
that would tell him that everything was going to be okay.

But it hadn't come, and as the hour grew late and darkness settled over
the nation's capital, he had resigned himself to the knowledge that it
wasn't going to come.

He sighed deeply.  No one could say he hadn't tried -- but that wasn't
doing his conscience one damned bit of good at the moment.  Shaking his
head, he reached for the last folder, and tried to put the matter out of
his mind.

Hmm.  This item was going to need some followup on the ground, and it
looked like the Salt Lake City office had blown its wad.  In fact, he
realized, reading further, the SAC was basically dumping it on him.
With a growl of annoyance he considered whether the matter could be held
over until Monday.  Better not, he decided; events were developing
awfully fast on this one.

Instinctively, he knew who he wanted to send, but that pretty clearly
wasn't going to work -- not both of them, at any rate.  He shrugged.  So
he wouldn't send both of them.  This was more up Mulder's alley, anyway
-- might as well get some use out of him before losing him to the VCU.
And maybe he could expedite Scully's transfer while Mulder was away, so
she'd be gone by the time he got back.  A nice, clean break, like
ripping a bandaid off.

Or putting a bullet in the back of someone's head.

He thought about calling Mulder, but the Assistant Director always
preferred to deliver assignments to his agents in person.  He'd stop
down to the basement office on his way out, on the chance that Mulder
was working late; if he was not, well, the agent's apartment wasn't that
far off the route Skinner usually took to get home.

Gathering up a few items he wanted to work on over the weekend and
stuffing them into his briefcase, Skinner switched off the lights and
left his office.  The rest of that floor of the building was dark and
silent, except for one janitor emptying wastebaskets in the conference
room that Skinner and Scully had sat in more than nine hours before.

Waiting for the elevator, Skinner wondered if there was anything else he
could have done for Mulder and Scully.  He reviewed the events of the
past three weeks in his mind and concluded that there really wasn't.
He'd made mistakes, yes, but he'd done the best he could.  That didn't
make it hurt any less, though.  The elevator arrived, and he got on
board and pushed the button for the basement.

As he walked down the familiar basement hallway, Skinner saw that their
office door was standing open, indicating that Mulder was probably still
inside, or at least nearby.  The lights were out, but that proved
nothing.  Skinner was of the longstanding opinion and belief that Agent
Mulder had been raised in a cave.  The Assistant Director stepped up to
the threshold and started to go inside.

He almost tripped over something lying in the doorway.  Looking down, he
saw with surprise that it was Dana Scully's coat and purse, lying in a
crumpled heap on the floor.  Glancing up again, he was even more
startled -- and appalled -- to see her computer monitor lying against
the side wall, shards of broken glass and plastic scattered hither and
yon.  <<Things must really have gone to hell down here,>> he thought
with a sinking feeling in his gut.  <<And it's at least partially my
fault, because I goaded her into it this afternoon.  'Lancing a boil' my
ass!>>

He almost turned to go, but then he shook his head.  He was going to
have to face this sooner or later; he also still had this case to
dispose of, and Mulder was still the right agent for the job.  Sighing,
he shifted his gaze to the two desks the agents had somehow squeezed
into a room which was really too small even for one.  Sure enough,
Mulder was here:  He was sitting in his chair, his back to the door.
Skinner thought about turning on the light, but decided against it.
<<It's still his office, after all, at least for a few more days.>>

He was about to speak when he noticed that Mulder wasn't alone.  He
blinked in surprise, and squinted into the gloom, trying to make out
what was going on.

<<Jesus!  Is she sitting on his lap??>>  He took a careful, quiet step
forward and craned his neck, trying to see, and was rewarded by a flash
of red hair.  <<She is!!>>

Skinner was dumbfounded, and as he stood there, paralyzed with surprise,
he heard voices.  Their voices.

"I'm sorry, Scully," Mulder was saying.  "I should never have tried to
kiss you that day."

"No, Mulder," she replied.  "You were fine.  I wanted you to kiss me.
I've wanted you to kiss me for a long time.  I shouldn't have run away;
I should have been prepared for it.  And when I DID run away, I should
have come back sooner, instead of waiting like I did and putting us both
through three weeks of hell.  I was scared, though.  I'm still a little
scared.  This is a big step for us."

"You don't have to be scared, Scully.  Not ever again.  I'm here.  I'll
always be here.  I'll protect you."

"You always have, Mulder," she replied softly, and Skinner saw her arm
snake up around Mulder's neck as she pulled his face down to hers.

<<I have got to get out of here,>> Skinner thought.  <<I don't dare let
them catch me standing here.  Agent Scully might actually pull the
trigger this time.>>  Quickly but quietly, he backed out of the darkened
room, and took the elevator back up to his office.  He switched on the
lights and sat back down at his desk and thought for a minute.  Then he
picked up his phone and dialed Mulder's extension.

It took them eight rings to answer it.  "Fox Mulder."  The man's voice
sounded hoarse, and as if he were a little dazed.  Skinner didn't blame
him; Mulder had had a rough week -- and, to all appearances, he had also
just had the shock of his life.

"Agent Mulder," he said.  "This is the Assistant Director.  I'm glad I
caught you before you left for the weekend."  Was that giggling he heard
in the background?  No, couldn't be -- not Dana Scully!

Skinner cleared his throat, and went on, "I know that this is short
notice, and I also realize that it's been a hard week --" <<THAT'S the
understatement of the year.>> "-- but something has come up, and I need
to get someone to Salt Lake City, fast.  Do you think you and Agent
Scully might be available?"

There was a moment of silence at the other end.  Then Mulder said, "The
X-Files unit is always ready,  willing and able, sir.  Uh, you don't
need to worry about notifying Scully; I'll...give her a call."

This time Skinner was certain he heard giggling.  This was going to take
some getting used to, assuming it turned out to be permanent.  Shaking
his head, a slight smile on his lips, he replied in his best Assistant
Director voice, "Very well, Agent Mulder; I'll leave that matter in your
capable hands."  Skinner smirked at his own witticism.  "And I'll leave
the case file on my secretary's desk.  You can pick it up at your
convenience.  I'll expect both of you to be on the first flight out
tomorrow morning.  Good bye."  And he hung up the phone, and rubbed his
hands together in gleeful pleasure.

<<The A Team is back in business!>>

#          #          #

TUESDAY
11:21 a.m.
Epilogue

The Assistant Director finished reading a case file and leaned back in
his chair and checked his watch.  According to their last phone report,
Agents Mulder and Scully should have arrived back in Washington late
last night.  So far this morning, however, he hadn't heard so much as a
peep from their basement office, and his curiosity was driving him
crazy.

Finally deciding to indulge himself, Skinner left his own office and
took the elevator to the basement.  Their office door was standing open,
as it had been on Friday night.  He approached it cautiously, and peered
inside, but this time no one was there.  Skinner stepped inside.

Glancing around the room, he saw that the damaged computer monitor had
been taken away, and a new one had been installed on Agent Scully's
desk.  <<Fast work by IRM,>> he thought.  <<I'll have to give their
chief a call and thank him -- especially since he accepted my story of
"accidental damage" so easily.>>

Everything else seemed to be the same as always:  The same "I Want to
Believe" poster on the wall; the same ancient filing cabinets holding
five decades of reports on the strange, the bizarre and the unexplained;
the same random bits of kitch scattered about the room on every
available flat surface.

No, there WAS something new -- two somethings, in fact.  With a faint
smile, the Assistant Director moved over to their desks, and looked
down:  On hers was a vase holding a single long-stemmed rose; on his was
a small, brown, stuffed bear.  A bright red ribbon was looped around the
bear's neck, and hanging on the ribbon was a plain white index card with
the word "Spooky" written on it in familiar feminine handwriting.

"Can we help you, sir?"

Turning around, Skinner saw Agents Mulder and Scully standing in the
doorway.  She stood slightly in front of him, wearing her usual
Sphinx-like expression, while Mulder was...well, Mulder.  And unless the
Assistant Director's eyes were deceiving him, she was leaning back
against her partner's body, ever so slightly.

"Nothing important, Agent Mulder," he replied easily.  "I just wanted to
stop by and congratulate both of you on the successful completion of
your assignment in Utah."

"Thank you, sir," Mulder replied in what he doubtless believed was a
bland tone of voice.  As he spoke, Scully moved away from him and walked
over to the coat tree to hang up her jacket, and Mulder's eyes followed
her every step of the way.

"Not at all, Agent Mulder," he replied.  "When my people do a good job,
they deserve recognition." He paused, then added, "I, uh, take it that
there are no...loose ends that still need to be tied up?"

"Loose ends, sir?" the Sphinx asked, looking at him guilelessly as she
walked back to stand next to her partner again, her hip bumping against
his upper thigh with studied carelessness.  Mulder's hand twitched, but
he did not QUITE reach out to touch her.  "You mean loose ends
concerning our assignment?" she continued.

"Of course I mean concerning your assignment, Agent Scully," the
Assistant Director said, putting a note of annoyance in his voice.
"What other loose ends would I be asking you about?"

"I don't know, sir," she replied.  "I'm certainly not aware of any loose
ends of any kind."  She glanced up at her partner.  "Agent Mulder, are
you aware of any loose ends?"

Mulder shook his head, a shit-eating grin on his face.  "No loose ends
here, Agent Scully."

She turned back to Skinner again.  "There are no loose ends, sir," she
stated calmly.

"That's very gratifying to hear, Agent Scully."

"There was one thing we did want to ask you about, though, sir," she
went on.  "Over the past three weeks or so, Agent Mulder and I have been
rather...preoccupied, and we're afraid we may not have done our best
possible work on some of the cases which were assigned to us during that
timeframe.  We were wondering if it would be possible for us to take
another look at a few items, and perhaps tidy up a bit."

"I think that would be very appropriate, Agent Scully," he said, trying
to sound stern.  "I'll have the case files sent back down immediately.
Quite frankly, I had been meaning to speak to both of you concerning the
quality of your recent work.  It's a credit to you both that you have
identified the problem and are taking corrective action on your own."

"Thank you, sir," she said.

"Of course," Skinner went on, "I have no idea what the nature of this
'preoccupation' was, but I am pleased to see that the situation has
apparently been resolved."

"Thank you, sir," the Sphinx repeated.

Skinner suddenly felt very uncomfortable.  "Well," he said, looking at
his watch, "look at the time.  I have to get back to my desk.  I'll have
those case files sent down right away."  Mulder and Scully got out of
the way as he moved towards the doorway.  On the threshold, he turned to
face them again.  "On, and Agents -- a word of advice.  Keep this door
closed when you're working on confidential materials.  There's no
telling who might be walking by in this hallway, especially after
hours."

And with a jaunty stride and a shit-eating grin of his own, Assistant
Director Skinner turned and walked out of the room, content in the
knowledge that another job had been well done.


Fini