Title: Happenstance

Author: Justine Glass

E-mail Address: Feedback happily read and

answered at Julan777@aol.com

Rating: G

Category: V, Missing Scene

Spoilers: Ascension

Keywords: M/Sk UST

Summary: Skinner tells Krycek to take Mulder

home . . . and then changes his mind.

Archive: No where without my permission, please.

Disclaimer: No permission has been granted, no

money has been made, no infringement is intended.

Dedication: For Dawn, without whom none of this

would have happened.

Happenstance

by Justine Glass

It was not a result of planning or orchestration, of

forethought or design or even the manipulation of

circumstances. Mulder ended up in his boss' bed

purely by accident. Coincidence. Chance.

At least that was what Skinner told himself as he

stood in the doorway of his own bedroom and looked

in on the man drifting in and out of a light doze on his

sheets. Skinner had fought to keep himself from the

doing this, from checking up, just like he had fought

the impulse to bring Mulder home, like he had fought

so many impulses regarding Mulder in the past few

days.

Scully was gone. She had disappeared without a

trace from Skyland Mountain, and Mulder's will to go

on had vanished with her. He lived now for one thing

and one thing only--to find her. All other

compulsions and obsessions gone, although Skinner

supposed that this new raison d'etre was just an

alteration of Mulder's initial quest to find a different

her, a different reason.

He couldn't do it alone.

And he couldn't do it the way he had been in the

office--pale, frantic, and frightened out of his mind by

the possibility that she wasn't ever coming back.

"Make sure he gets some rest," he'd said to Mulder's

new partner, Krycek. But he'd changed his mind

without knowing why, unconvinced that Mulder

would rest, uncertain of Alex Krycek's ability to help

his partner. If it had been Scully, he could have sent

Mulder off without another word, knowing that she . .

.

Skinner sighed. Fruitless to think like that.

"Something wrong?"

"I didn't know you were awake, Agent Mulder."

Mulder smiled, eyes still closed.

"I think we can dispense with the formalities in your

bedroom, sir."

"How do you feel?"

Mulder sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the

bed. He was still wearing his office clothes, even his

tie. He looked as if he had been crumpled up and

thrown away.

"Like shit."

Skinner felt his arms fold across his chest. "You

should get some more sleep."

Mulder glanced sideways at him. "Thanks, Dad."

Skinner said nothing. Mulder should sleep, and he

wouldn't, and that was that. There was no point in

arguing. Only Scully could argue with Mulder and

win.

"So that's it," Mulder said eventually.

"What do you want me to say, Agent Mulder?

You've made your position on the matter completely

clear."

"Completely clear," Mulder repeated. He laughed a

little, hitching his shoulders. "Completely clear. No

disrespect, *sir*, but I don't even know what the

fuck I'm doing here."

"You're here so I can keep an eye on--"

"An *eye* on me!" Mulder was up off the bed,

shouting. "An eye on me. It seems like everyone in

the goddamn world is keeping an eye on me. Who's

fucking looking for Scully?"

Skinner stood there, silent, arms crossed over his

chest.

"I should be out there, sir. I should be looking for

her."

"You're not leaving."

"Who are you to tell me what I can and cannot do?"

Skinner stepped up to his agent. "I am your

superior, and I am a senior agent with more field

experience in my little finger than you and Agent

Scully put together, and I decide when my agents go

out in the field and when they would be a danger to

themselves and others by doing so. Am I clear?"

He didn't raise his voice, because he knew he didn't

have to. Mulder was fighting exhaustion and guilt--

he needed sleep and he desperately wanted to be on

Scully's trail, sacrificing himself for his holy grail--all

Skinner had to was take away the guilt option and

Mulder would be fine.

"Fine."

Skinner almost smiled.

"I'll leave you alone then. There are pajamas in the

bottom drawer." He stepped back and drew the door

closed behind him.

Then he leaned against the wall and covered his face

with his hands. Jesus. This was a mistake. Mulder

should go home, should go anywhere but here . . . the

idea of Mulder in his bed, in his pajamas . . . it was

too much.

He heard the sound faintly at first, as if he were

hearing it with only the corner of his mind. A soft

thud. Skinner was too absorbed in the image of

Mulder wrapped in his own flannel pjs to pay it much

heed. Then it happened again, twice, quickly. Thud,

thud. And another sound, something small.

"Mulder?" He opened the door.

He would have laughed if the sight hadn't been so

pathetic.

Mulder sat on the edge of the bed clutching at his tie,

his face flushed with effort. The noise had

apparently been his elbow hitting the headboard as

his hand slipped, which it did once more just as

Skinner came in.

"That has to hurt," he said.

Mulder glanced up, eyes furious and bleary. Eyes on

the edge of something.

"Let me," Skinner said, crouching in front of the

man. He reached out and took the tie, pushing

Mulder's hands out of the way. "This is quite a knot.

Originally a double windsor, huh? What a bitch." He

was talking low and quick to soothe Mulder and to

cover his own nervousness. He could feel the heat

coming from the man.

Skinner pulled on the knot, moving it first one way

then the other, trying to ignore the fact that Mulder

was watching his face from only inches away. If he

concentrated, he could feel breath on his cheek. He

tried not to concentrate.

"I can't even take off my own tie," Mulder said.

"It's all right, it happens."

"To who?" Mulder laughed. "Who does this shit

happen to? Just me."

"Happens to the best of us," Skinner said, trying not

to hear the panic in the other man's voice.

"There are certain things that only seem to happen

to me, sir." Mulder's voice ran slow and deliberate.

"Certain things that seem like fate. Kismet."

"Hey!" Skinner breathed as the knot loosened

abruptly. "Got it!"

He looked up at Mulder's face, smiling a little. "Here

. . ." He stopped.

Mulder gazed at him, half-seeing, half lost behind a

thin curtain of tears. "Some things only happen to

me," he said again, hardly whispering. Skinner

realised that he still held the ends of Mulder's tie in

his hands like a leash.

Without thinking, he tugged on it.

Mulder fell forward, bonelessly, slumping against

Skinner in sudden and complete surrender.

"Only me," he said again, and Skinner sighed.

"That's not true," he murmured. He hugged Mulder

tight against him, feeling the shuddering of someone

trying not to cry and not really succeeding. "It's not

true." He had no idea what he was denying, he didn't

even think he made sense, but that didn't seem

important. One of his hands was on the back of

Mulder's neck, pressed against the soft hair at the

nape of his neck.

He shifted to releive some of the pressure on his

knees and was startled by Mulder's arms tightening

around his ribs.

"It's okay," he said. He moved and somehow

manuvered them so that he was on the bed, resting

against the headboard, Mulder reclining across his

chest. Skinner held him secure against his chest,

brushed his hair back, touched his face, reveling

quietly and shamefully in the contact.

After a while, Mulder tilted his head back, meeting

Skinner's eyes. The emotional storm had passed: his

eyes were clear and luminous. His words were soft

and startling.

"You can kiss me if you want to."

Skinner found his head dipping toward Mulder's

before he could think. The kiss was soft and closed,

brief.

"I don't think so, Mulder," Skinner breathed almost

on the man's mouth. "I don't think we should."

He wanted to, to kiss Mulder, to hold him like this,

only more, only naked, he wanted to kiss him open-

mouthed and hotly, with Mulder's hands pinned

above his head and his hips moving in fledgling need,

with nothing between them but sweat. Oh, he

wanted to.

But he couldn't, not now. Not until Scully was found,

alive or dead, and Mulder was free. Freer.

Mulder nodded, and pressed closer, his arms snug

around Skinner's waist.

Eventually, he fell asleep.

Skinner stayed up, watching him, for a long time.

*****end*****