By Susan
susanf34@comcast.net
 

Classification: vignette, Skinner's POV
Spoiler: latter part of fourth season, cancer arc
Archive: No archive without permission.
Disclaimer: Sadly, these characters don't belong
to me.

Summary: All that matters is that a good friend
of yours is hurting.
*****************************************************

Late Shift
by Susan
~~~~

12:13 am
 

You press the button and wait for the elevator to
take you up to his floor.

You know you really shouldn't be going over to
his apartment this late just as you know the
whole spiel about getting too close to the agents
that work under you.

And yet none of that matters to you right now.

All that matters is a good friend of yours is
hurting, and you need to make sure he's okay.

You walk down the hall and knock on the door.
"Agent Mulder? It's Assistant Director Skinner."

You wait for him to answer, but get no response.

Is he out somewhere getting into trouble, or is
he sitting in the dark closing himself off from
the rest of the world again the way he did when
she was missing?

You hope it's neither.

"Agent Mulder, open the door," you say in a louder
voice.

And then he does.

His shoulders are slumped, his face unshaven, his
eyes filled with fear, and you immediately notice
the bottle of vodka in his right hand. Thankfully,
it looks like he only drank about a fourth of it.

"Hey sir, come on in...join the party. I've got
a spot for you right over here," he slurs, pointing
towards nowhere in particular.

You walk inside, close the door, survey the room.
It's dark with only the television on, and you can
see his darkness too, rolling off of him in thick
black waves.

"It looks like you already started without me,"
you say, taking off your coat and sitting down
in the chair across from his couch.

He walks over to the couch, plops down on it.
"Scully's dying, you know," he blurts out as he
takes a swig from the bottle, then slams it back
down on the coffee table. Surprisingly, it doesn't
break.

You lean forward in your chair, study the broken
man in front of you, and try to think of the right
thing to say to him, but you can't, because you
feel like you're breaking too.

Scully's dying of cancer, and there's not a damn
thing you can do to stop it.

You tried to save her, and him too, but the deal
you made with the devil left you with nothing.

And them with even less.

"I know she is," you finally say, "but you can
save her, Mulder, just as you have before."

He stares at you then, his face drawn, his lids
heavy as he lays his head back against the cushion.
"I don't think I can this time," he says quietly,
his eyes closing as he finally gives in to his
exhaustion.

"Yes, you can," you say in the dark, grabbing the
blanket from the end of the couch and carefully
covering him up with it. Then you take the bottle
of vodka from his hand, carry it out into the
kitchen, and pour it down the sink.

When he wakes up in the morning, you know he'll
be angry with you for what you've done, and he'll
probably be embarrassed too, but right now none
of that matters to you.

All that matters is that you're here.

You're here because you need to be and because
she can't be.

And you're here for as long as it takes.

Finding the coffee in the cupboard, you start up
the machine, then pull out your phone and dial
the number that she gave you.

When she answers, you can hear the beeping of her
monitor in the background, but you make yourself
ignore it, and you tell her that you'll stay with
him to make sure he's okay.

She thanks you for what you're doing, and though
you're glad you can help, you wish you could do
more.

And you wonder if she wishes you could too.
 
The coffee nearly finished brewing now, you say
goodbye to her and stuff the phone back in your
pocket, then take a mug down from the cupboard
and pour yourself some when it's done.

Later when you go back out to the living room
to check on him, you're not surprised to find
him sleeping soundly, and you breathe a sigh of
relief, knowing that for at least a little while,
all the darkness that surrounded him earlier is
gone.

Making yourself comfortable in the chair across
from the couch, you pick up the remote and change
the channel, then slowly drink your coffee, and
though you know you'll be exhausted when morning
comes, it doesn't matter to you right now.

All that matters is that she's counting on you to
take care of him tonight.

And you won't let her down.
 
 

~end~

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