From Clare_Skinner@prodigy.com Tue Oct 22 10:46:54 1996
Reunited
by Clare Skinner


This is the third in the Anthony series of stories involving Skinner 
and Clarissa Hoffmann.  In order to really understand what is going 
on, you should read Anthony and A Glimpse of Six Weeks first, and in 
that order.  The usual disclaimers apply - The X-Files and its 
characters are the property of Chris Carter, 1013 Productions and 
20th Century Fox.  Clare, Anthony and the naming of Deep Throat's 
character belong to me.  This story is NC-17, courtesy of one long, 
drawn out sex scene which really has a lot of tease to it.  
Comments/feedback are appreciated - send them to 
Clare_Skinner@prodigy.com.  In the way of a warning, this story is 
mostly plot driven, dripping with angst (didn't have much choice 
given the plot) and has a scene with a lot of description of corpses -
 if that sort of thing makes you squeamish, you might want to skip it 
:-).  Lastly, this was written well after the other two, my style 
changed and remember that these two have been separated for seven 
plus years.  *Their* attitudes and feelings have changed as well.  
'Rae'



Wednesday, October 2, Bethesda, Maryland, Skinner's apartment

	Clare was listening to Anthony via the cordless phone and she smiled 
as she leaned against the sofa, Skinner holding her hand.  Both had 
shed their suit jackets immediately after entering the apartment.  
When Anthony finally allowed Clare to get a word in edgewise, her 
tone was laced with amusement and her eyes had an almost luminescent 
glow.  "I'm very happy you're having a good time with Agents Scully 
and Mulder, honey."  Clare rolled her eyes as Anthony went off on 
another tangent.  Skinner tugged on her hand and raised his amused 
eyes in question.  She covered the mouthpiece and briefly moved the 
phone away from her.  "Mulder apparently taught him how to spin a 
basketball on the tip of his finger today."  It was his turn to roll 
his eyes and he partially laughed as he shook his head.  "Anthony.....
........ Anthony, it's time you went to bed, it's a school night.  
Please don't give them any trouble.  I love you, sweetpea, we'll be 
home tomorrow."  Clare smiled more broadly as she looked at Skinner.  
"Yes, Anthony, both of us.  What's that?  Yes, Walt, I mean, *Dad* is 
right here."

	Clare handed the phone to Skinner as her expression softened still 
more.  He took the phone as he gently pulled Clare's hand to his 
mouth and softly kissed her palm.  The second his lips left it, Clare 
trailed her fingers lightly across his cheek and down his jaw.  She 
could feel the response his body had to her simple action and smiled 
again as she drew away from him.  With effort, Walt placed the phone 
against his ear.  His tone was affectionate as the smile spread 
across his face.  "Yes, Anthony?"  He grinned still more as Anthony 
started another dissertation both from not wanting to go to bed and 
not wanting to break the connection to his parents.  "Baseball isn't 
exactly my best sport, but I'm sure I can teach you how to throw a 
ball."

	Clare smiled again and wandered away from Walt knowing he'd talk to 
his agents after he finished with Anthony.  She looked around the 
place and was momentarily saddened to see how little it had changed 
in seven years.  The starkness, almost lack of personality, was still 
prominently present.  She gave him credit, as she had seven years 
earlier, for not resorting to 'bachelor brown'.  A small sly smile 
crept across her face and a sudden warmth threatened to stain her 
cheeks pink as she looked back at the sofa.  I wonder if he ever did 
replace that spring, she thought to herself.

	Her eyes were momentarily riveted on his back.  With the way the 
lamp's illumination was hitting him, she could make out the rippled 
form of his muscular upper body.  I think he's actually in better 
shape than he was seven years ago, if that's possible, she thought.  
She sighed wanting to feel his tender embrace, his loving touch, him 
inside her.  Her doctor hadn't actually forbidden sex because of the 
aneurysm, but he'd seemed relieved that she wasn't involved with 
anyone just the same.  

	Clare dragged her eyes past him, to the bookcase across from him and 
her heart nearly skipped a beat as she recognized various items.  
She'd been so anxious to talk to Anthony after they'd flown into D.C. 
that she'd tunnel visioned everything but the phone.  She shook her 
head again remembering how Walt hadn't wanted her to use the cellular 
phone - 'too easy to intercept the signal', he'd said.  How he'd 
laughed when she'd countered with, 'What makes you so certain your 
*home* phone isn't bugged?'  All these precautions weren't really 
necessary anyway, 'he'd' said Anthony was safe, and they had to 
believe him.

	Clare walked over to the bookcase and slowly ran her fingers over 
the familiar personal items - her items.  Two photo albums detailing 
her life from infancy to young adulthood, her collection of Dick 
Francis paperbacks.   The pottery - her grandparents had been antique 
dealers and Walt had kept her pieces of Roseville and Llewellyn.  As 
her eyes scanned the shelves she saw her favorite carnival glass bowl 
and another one made from milk glass.  Clare mentally wondered what 
had happened to her depression glass; the mismatched pieces of pink 
and green colored dishware in similar patterns - Diana, Spiral, Swirl 
and Twisted Optic.  Or the McCoy pots in the Springflower pattern 
that had always reminded her of Dogwood trees.

	Clare barely contained her squeal of delight/surprise as she moved 
into the dining area and found the aforementioned pieces.  It meant 
so much to her to know that Walt had kept these beloved objects, 
these treasured mementos of time spent with her now deceased 
grandparents.  To know that Anthony would one day 'inherit' them and 
hopefully remember her when he looked at them.  She smiled again as 
she dragged her finger lightly across one pot and realized she'd been 
wrong.  The apartment wasn't lacking in personality; it was subtly 
exuding hers.

	She turned and found Walt staring at her.  It was difficult to read 
his eyes, not because they were expressionless, but rather because of 
the plethora of emotions struggling for dominance.  Clare met his 
gaze for a few seconds and recognized some of the emotions - love, 
fear, happiness, concern, relief, pain, desire.  She slowly walked 
back to him, took his hand and delicately kissed his palm.

	Once her lips left *his* palm, Walt carefully trailed his fingertips 
across her forehead, through her hair and behind her ear.  His voice 
dropped to almost a whisper as he mumbled into the phone, "Wait a 
second."  He balanced the phone on the sofa as he drew Clare's face 
toward him and with quiet deliberation sensually kissed her. 

	Clare rested her forehead very briefly against his before quickly 
and lightly kissing him.  Her own voice was warm as she spoke to him; 
her expression radiating love, desire, but not quite unequivocal 
trust.  "Finish up."

	He smiled benevolently at her in understanding as she pulled away 
and moved toward his bedroom.  When he found her a few moments later, 
she was sitting in her solid cherry rocker, leaning against the 
starburst quilt and gazing thoughtfully at their long ago framed 
wedding picture.

	"Still think this is a terrible picture?" Clare very gently teased 
him.

	He moved behind the chair, leaned his head forward and kissed her 
hair before running his fingers down her arms.  "I've grown attached 
to it," he murmured back.

	Clare smiled as she tilted her head back and gazed up at the smile 
across his own, albeit, upside down face.  They both twisted their 
heads a bit and softly kissed again.  Skinner knelt by the side of 
the chair as his eyes took on a mischievous gleam.  "Your brother was 
very disappointed when I kept the rocker."

	Clare's eyes lit up as she laughed.  "I was wondering how you'd 
managed to get it; the pottery, glassware and books I could 
understand, but Darryl always had his eye on this rocker.

	Walt's features softened as he took Clare's hand in his own and 
tenderly stroked it with his thumb.  "As your mother reminded me, 
legally everything you owned belonged to me."  He sighed as he slowly 
stood up, reluctantly released Clare's hand and walked over to the 
bed; he didn't turn around as he crossed his arms.  His voice was 
tired, almost apologetic and it was overshadowed by the memory of his 
pain.  "I paid the rent on your apartment for three months after .....
..................  I wasn't prepared to deal with losing you."  

	Clare unfolded herself from the rocker and walked to him, threading 
her arms through his and hugging him.  Walt leaned into the embrace 
as Clare propped her chin on his shoulder.  "I threw myself into the 
promotion and shut myself off from grieving.  I didn't attempt to go 
through your things until your landlord said he had someone 
interested in the place.  Your mother flew back and helped me sort 
through it all, told me which pieces of the pottery were your 
favorites - I should have known which ones .............."  

	"Don't do that to yourself," Clare interrupted him, her voice soft 
and barely reprimanding as she squeezed him tighter against her.

	Skinner loosened Clare's grip of him and turned around to face her, 
to stare into her emotion filled eyes.  He gently wiped away the 
first tears as they slid cautiously down her cheeks.  "I felt like I 
knew you so much better after spending those few days with your 
mother; it made me realize how little I *had* known you, about you.  
It filled in all the blanks I thought we'd covered."  He looked over 
to the rocker.  "She told me about the rocker, how your grandfather 
had made it as a wedding present for your grandmother and how you'd 
always loved it.  She more or less insisted I keep it .............. 
and now I'm very glad I did."  He cradled her head and gently kissed 
her as he twined his fingers through her hair.

	Clare's eyes were brimming with tears as she haltingly tried to 
speak to him, her emotions flooding her voice.  "Walt, I am *so* 
sorry for all the pain I've caused you; all the secrets I kept from 
you."  And the secrets I'm still keeping from you, she thought.  "I 
love you so much; I ......... I've never stopped."

	He placed a finger gently against her lips to prevent her from going 
on.  His own voice was overwhelmed with emotion.  "I've never stopped 
loving you either."  He trailed his finger across her cheek.  "I 
understand why you did what you did.  I just ...................... I 
just .........................."  Walt shook his head, no matter how 
he tried to form the words, he knew it would sound like a reprimand 
and he didn't want it to.

	Clare took his hand and kissed it before taking a deep breath.  She 
drew his lowered face back up.  "You just wish I'd told you who I 
really was, what I was involved in and trusted you enough to help me.
"  He slowly nodded.  Clare hated to ask the question, but felt she 
had to, "And would you have helped me?"  Walt opened his mouth and 
closed it again immediately.  Clare shook her head and moved away 
from him, crossing her arms as she took another deep breath.  When 
she spoke again, her voice was calmer, more controlled, but unhappy; 
she tended to purse and bite her lips.  "Everything about that day 
happened so fast.  With Cardinal following me I had a lot of 
difficulty thinking rationally, staying objective.  I had to assume 
if I was being tailed that they had someone close to you.  Someone 
who wouldn't hesitate to harm you if I made a wrong move or tried in 
any way to warn you."  Walt walked back to her and wrapped his arms 
protectively around her.

	She tried to lighten her voice a bit, unsuccessfully.  "Bennett told 
me how you refused to allow the autopsy - thank you, it saved him 
from coming up with a creative solution." 

	"More creative than having your 'personal physician' declare you'd 
ingested ginger and choked to death because of anaphylactic shock?"

	Clare turned back to face him.  "I'll admit that the allergy angle 
was a bit much; that was Bennett's idea.  I actually am allergic to 
it, just not nearly that severely.   I had to be sure my body could 
be identified and I wasn't about to allow some stranger to die in my 
place in a fiery crash with switched dental records."  She shook her 
head as she gently drew her fingers across his cheek and back behind 
his ear.  "I hated involving you as much as I did, but I had to set 
up the pretense and ................ hope.  Hope that you would 
accept it as accidental and not start investigating.  I think that's 
what Cancerman had in mind.  That you wouldn't accept a suicide at 
face value and certainly not rest until my murderer was found.  
Either way you'd poke your nose in too far and he'd be 'justified' in 
eliminating you."

	"Did he ever tell you why he has it in for me?"

	Clare shook her head.  "No, the most I got from him was that it was 
possibly a combination of your being honest and it being something 
personal; I can't truly say I believed him."  She started to shiver 
slightly and Walt disattached himself and pulled the quilt off the 
rocker.  After securely wrapping it around her, he guided Clare back 
to the bed, sat down beside her and closed his hand firmly around 
hers.

	"You okay?"

	Clare smiled at the concern and gentleness of his tone.  "I tend to 
get sporadically chilled.  My core temperature never completely came 
back up."

	Walt looked thoughtful.  "That's part of something I don't 
understand.  How could your body have so convincingly appeared to be 
dead - I mean, I've read enough autopsy reports to have learned a few 
things." 	

	She took a deep breath.  "It wasn't perfect; I told you that Z5 was 
the first version that was 100% stable, but it still had 'problems'.  
All of the versions would produce the appearance of respiratory death,
 but finding a formula that would successfully cause the body to cool 
properly, attain a level of lividity and display some rigor mortis 
was very difficult.  Do you really want me to explain this?"  Clare's 
voice was tired and not entirely cooperative.

	Skinner swallowed slowly; he clearly heard her hesitation but he 
*did* want to know; wanted to know what to look for in case he 
stumbled across another user of the drug.  "Yes, I do."

	She sighed again.  "I'll try to use as few technical terms as I can. 
 Normally, body temperature drops an average of one and a half 
degrees per hour after death occurs, but obviously the environment 
that the body is in will influence that.  We had the proper decrease 
rate with Z1, but it wouldn't stabilize until it had dropped twenty-
three and a half degrees; and that was too much.  It continued to 
allude the researchers and finally with Z5, the temperature drop was 
stabilized, but only after an uncharacteristic decrease would first 
occur."

	"Which is why your skin felt so cold when I first found you."

	"Exactly, I tried to cover it by cranking the air conditioning.  
According to the lab results, core temperature would drop some seven 
degrees in a matter of two hours, but it wouldn't decrease further 
than an additional four degrees."

	"Once the blood stops circulating, gravity takes over and the blood 
starts to pool - lividity.  Version three corrected earlier problems 
and a suitable amount of pooling was effected to simulate lividity 
while in actuality the blood was still circulating, just at a highly 
slow rate; which made fixed lividity, or no blanching of the skin 
after six to eight hours problematic.  

	"Rigor, that presented a major hurdle; version four managed to 
temporarily suppress the body's level of ATP."

	"Which is?"

	"Uh, ATP is a compound consisting of adenosine, ribose and three 
phosphate groups; they govern the storage and transfer of energy in 
cells, especially the muscles.  Generally, a body will start 
displaying signs of rigor mortis at around the four hour mark, after 
twelve hours the body is completely stiff; but by thirty hours, rigor 
dissipates and the body is flaccid.  Again, there are a host of 
mitigating factors, activity at time of death, temperature, weight.  
True rigor, obviously, couldn't be achieved, but a reasonable amount 
was simulated."    

	"Changes in the eyes are more difficult to interpret and it was 
decided to ignore that contingency.  Lastly, the researchers weren't 
sure if the characteristic bluing of the hands and feet could be 
simulated; it's hard to tell with lab rats."  

	Walt looked at her with a somewhat sickened expression.  "Just 
exactly who were you planning to use as human guinea pigs?"

	Clare got an odd look on her face and shook her head.  He doesn't 
need to know that, she mentally said; well, another secret.  "That 
information wasn't available to me."

	Walt tightened his grip of her hand without realizing it; she 
inwardly winced as the pressure of his fingers dug into her skin.  
Between a month of 'ignoring' the pain in her head and back and her 
old instincts kicking in, Clare didn't show any outward signs of 
discomfort; instead she looked directly into his eyes and 
deliberately kept her voice soft.  "There are subtler ways to 
indicate that you don't believe me."  

	He stared at her surprised and suddenly relinquished her hand; he 
stood up and walked a few paces away.  Clare gingerly rubbed her hand 
and kept her eyes lowered.  Walt turned back, his expression 
contorted by emotion.  "I'm sorry, Clare.  You're my wife, but when 
you lied to me I .........................."

	Clare stood up, shedding the quilt, and walked to him.  "You saw me 
as a recalcitrant black ops agent."

	A small amount of shock invaded his expression, while his tone 
remained firm.  "No."  He couldn't, however, look Clare in the eye.

	Clare bit her lower lip and pulled his chin up.  His doleful brown 
eyes looked apologetic and uncertain; her artificially tinted emerald 
eyes were sad while her tone was somber.  "Walt, I don't expect you 
to be able to forgive my past.  What I did was horrible; no amount of 
clean living, soul searching nor seeking of salvation can change that.
"  She allowed the tiniest of rueful smiles to cross her lips.  "I 
have no doubt which direction my soul will be travelling after I die.
"

	Walt placed his fingers against her lips.  "Don't say that.  Don't 
even joke about it."  He drew her into his arms and slowly kissed her.
  He wanted to know so much more, but he wasn't sure he could look 
into her eyes when he asked the questions, *or* when he heard the 
answers.  They moved back to the bed and laid down; Walt held Clare 
snuggled against his chest.  She listened to the rhythmic beating of 
his heart as he took several cleansing breaths; and she waited for 
him to start the discussion she least wanted to have.  "How could you 
become an assassin?"

	His tone was everything she'd expected - gentle yet probing, 
reprimanding but not accusatory and with a hint of incredulousness.  
Clare took a deep breath before starting; her tone lacked inflection. 
 "I've asked myself the same question every day for the last seven 
years ..............."  

	She took another deep breath before going on.  "They pulled me in 
slowly, carefully assessing my willingness to buy into their 
philosophy; it was really very subtle.  Cancerman maneuvered me into 
Research at the Academy after my initial training at Quantico, citing 
my advanced degree in Organic Chemistry.  There were only three of us 
working on the formula for those two years; shortly after I left, 
they added another four people.  I handled routine cases for the next 
year, but I already told you that."

	"Clare," his voice was gently chiding, "you're straying from the 
question."

	Clare burrowed her head deeper into his chest and wished the subject 
would go away; she toyed with trying to divert his attention in a 
very pleasant manner, but doubted seriously that he would let her get 
away with it.  She sighed again and her voice became more tired.  
"Remember the weekend I forced you into trying violent sex ...........
.........?"

	Walt quickly cut her off and his tone was a bit sharper than he'd 
intended.  "You didn't force me, you ................. you coerced me 
into examining a darker side of myself."  He sighed as he shook his 
head.  "For someone with your memory, you seem to have selective 
recall."

	Clare raised her head off his chest and looked into his eyes with a 
trace of amusement.  "Everyone remembers events differently, it's 
called point of view."  She leaned further in and captured his mouth 
with her own. 

	He resisted very briefly, but once the kiss was over, he pushed her 
back and tangled his fingers in her shoulder length raisin colored 
hair.  "Clare, why do you keep stalling?  What is it that you're 
afraid to tell me?  Did they have some sort of hold over you?"

	Wouldn't it be so much easier to say 'yes', make something up, she 
thought, anything but the truth.  "They had no hold over me."  
Clare's voice was barely above a whisper and she closed her eyes 
tight before she continued.  "The worst thing they did was recognize 
a willingness to kill and exploit it."

	Skinner tried to stop his sharp intake of air, but the sound was 
still clearly audible.  He'd wanted very badly to hear Clare say that 
they'd forced her somehow, not that she had willingly committed 
murder.  His voice was shaky as he tightly screwed his own eyes shut. 
 "Go on."

	"It wasn't until that weekend, that I ..................... that I 
started to realize how being involved with Peter had influenced me.  
I was a rock on the outside after the trip to the hospital, but 
inside ........................... inside I was a basket case.  The 
look of supreme power and control on his face at subjecting me to 
that much pain was an image I couldn't get out of my head for weeks.  
Maybe they knew about that, hell, I'm sure they did.  God, that 
sounds like I'm blaming Peter for what I did."

	"Allowing myself to become an assassin allowed me that same sense of 
power and total control over another human being; it was intoxicating.
"  She swallowed a large lump threatening to overwhelm her.  "I ......
............. I .................."  Please God, she mentally said, 
give me the strength to tell him everything.  "I was good at my job, 
very good, reliable, accurate; I even 'enjoyed' it in a perverse way.
"  Clare rolled off him and sat up, pulling her knees under her chin 
and clenching them fiercely.  "You once said to me, 'I don't believe 
in the slightest that you could ever be a cold blooded killer', you 
were very wrong."

	Walt sat up as well and barely felt his feet touch the floor.  His 
mind was reeling from Clare's words and he felt his stomach churning 
as well.  He tried to breath deeply, but his lungs wouldn't cooperate.
  Every image, every hope he'd had about Clare's involuntary 
involvement with black ops had just been shattered.  He covered his 
face with his hands as he shook his head.  How could I have been so 
wrong about her, he thought.  My wife, the mother of my son, the 
woman I fell head over heels in love with 'enjoyed' killing innocent 
people.  She's right, he continued, I don't see how I can forgive her 
past.  I might be able to put it aside, in time, but how can I 
forgive it?  He involuntarily started as she placed her hand on his 
shoulder.

	Clare bit her lower lip and frowned as she pulled her hand back.  
I've lost him for good this time, she thought.  Her voice was 
sorrowful and laced with guilt, "I'm *so* sorry, Walt, I .............
.......... I know how desperately you wanted to hear ............ 
something else."  She lowered her head a moment before moving off the 
bed and walking out the door.

	The moment she was gone, Skinner flung his body back on the bed, 
beating his fists repeatedly against the hapless mattress.  He 
couldn't think straight, his mind wouldn't respond in it's usual 
orderly, rational manner.  Two years, he thought, for at least two 
years my gentle, loving Clare had been hard and unfeeling, had 
terminated people.  It was difficult to believe that such a different 
side of her could exist.  He was just trying to stop his mind from 
wondering how many lives she'd taken when he remembered that she'd 
started to question what she was doing the beginning of 1989.  So 
she'd stopped 'taking pride' in her work before they'd met; it was a 
hair splitting realization, but it made him feel slightly better. 

	It was also a feeling that lasted only a few seconds as he heard his 
front door close.  Skinner all but leaped off the bed and raced to 
the living room.  He yanked open the door, but Clare was already gone 
from view.  He swore several times, not bothering to keep his voice 
down as he went to get his keys.  It was then that he saw the note:

		Walt -
		Will be back in a few hours when we've both
		had time to think.  Stay home.
						C

	He scowled as he crushed the note and threw it onto the sofa before 
swearing some more and slamming the door shut behind him.

		*	*	*	*	*	*



From Clare_Skinner@prodigy.com Tue Oct 22 10:51:22 1996

Some two and a half hours later -

	Clare shifted her position on the sofa and forced a smile - the 
question of the broken spring was answered, negatively.  She sat up 
as she heard his heavy footsteps approach in the hall.  He unlocked 
the door and was about to toss the keys angrily toward the coffee 
table when he saw her.  His expression barely had time to register 
relief before irritation resurfaced and he grabbed her, harshly.  
Walt pulled her tightly against him by her elbows and kissed her with 
a wild combination of passion, relief and marginally suppressed rage. 


	Her eyes grew large at his narrowed eyes, clenched jaw and stern 
expression as he released her and took a step back.  Of all the 
swirling emotions within him, anger was the one which pervaded his 
tone.  "Don't you ever walk out on me in the middle of an argument 
again."  

	Clare narrowed her own eyes back, her voice reverberating with 
annoyance and irritation.  "We weren't having an 'argument' and if 
you'd followed the instruction on the note I wouldn't have had to 
pick the lock to get back in."

	He looked at her incredulously and turned away, shaking his head in 
exasperation, in relief, and finally in control again.  The glasses 
came off as he tiredly rubbed the bridge of his nose before putting 
them down on the end table.  When he turned back to her, the harsh 
lines around his mouth had softened and his eyes were gentle; his 
voice was low and entreating.  "Clare .................. Why are we 
doing this?  I don't want to fight you."

	Clare's countenance relaxed as she held her hand out to him.  "What 
*do* you want?" she softly asked as he took her hand. 

	He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it.  "I want us to be a 
family, for as long as we have."	

	She shook her head in disbelief as she pulled her hand back.  "I'm a 
confessed murderer.  A man in your position has to seek justice, 
regardless of our relationship."

	Skinner knotted his eyebrows in his own disbelief.  "You were acting 
on the orders of others."

	"So that makes me a good little 'Nazi', it doesn't absolve me of 
guilt."

	Walt raised his voice again as he stared at her.  "I can't believe 
you're saying this.  Do you *want* to be prosecuted?  Are you going 
to take the fall for their organization?  What about Anthony?  How do 
you think a trial would affect him?  And how could you risk 
jeopardizing his future after you just stepped forward to guarantee 
it?"

	Clare knew he'd neglected the most obvious question - 'Are you 
prepared to reveal the names of your victims?'.  Her temples were 
throbbing from the confrontation and the rest of the day.  "I had to 
give you the opportunity to turn me in," she said quietly, "and trust 
that you wouldn't.  I wish I could say I was positive that you 
wouldn't, but I can't."  She dropped in a heap onto the sofa and hit 
the broken spring; Clare shifted awkwardly off of it.  "Why didn't 
you get this bleeping sofa fixed?"

	Skinner's face relaxed again, almost into a smile as he walked to 
the sofa and sat down next to Clare.  He lifted her chin and looked 
deeply into her still tormented eyes; he leaned in further and 
tenderly kissed her lips, brushing her hair aside.  "Because I 
learned not to sit on that area and it reminded me of you."  He ran 
his fingers through her hair as Clare smiled back at him, the pain in 
her head abating very slightly.  "Why don't you take out those 
contact lenses so I can look into your beautiful *hazel* eyes."

	Clare smiled a bit broader and lightly kissed him before removing 
the lenses.  She looked back at him and gently teased him.  "I guess 
I don't need to be concerned with saving them.  I suppose you'd like 
me to strip out this hair color, too."

	He tangled his fingers again.  "I was somewhat partial to that 
auburn mane of yours."
		
	She took his hand as it slid to the end of her hair and kissed it; 
her tone was now beseeching.  "Let's not 'discuss' any more tonight.  
I .................... I just don't have the energy."

	Walt looked into her eyes and realized the 'torment' was really pain.
  He tenderly laid her back against the throw pillow and moved to the 
end of the sofa.  His strong biceps were propped on the sofa arm as 
he knelt on the floor behind her head.  Within seconds, Clare felt 
his fingers firmly but gently massaging her aching temples, her 
forehead, her eyebrows, even the bridge of her nose.  It wasn't 
enough to make the pain go away entirely, but it did manage to 
dissipate a healthy amount.  It also was prompting a reaction within 
her body that hadn't been satisfied for far too long.

	After a few short minutes, Clare stopped the motion of his fingers 
and sat up.  When Walt looked into her eyes again, he still saw the 
pain but it wasn't alone; there was also longing and a rapidly 
igniting flame of desire.  "Make love to me, Walt," the sultriness of 
her voice jump started his own smoldering needs.

	I want to so badly, my darling, he thought, but ..................  
"Is that a good idea from a medical standpoint?"  He tried 
unsuccessfully to keep the desire out of his voice and he was 
reasonably sure his eyes weren't cooperating either.

	Clare stood up as he did and deliberately rubbed her body against 
his, eliciting a soft moan from him as she did.  "I've had more than 
enough negative stress today, some positive 'stress' would be 
beneficial."

	He smiled as he wrapped his arms loosely around her waist.  "I 
thought you didn't have any energy left?"

	Clare returned his smile.  "Mental energy is zapped; other portions 
of my body are getting quite charged.  And if it weren't for my 
memory, it might have forgotten how to do that."

	Walt smiled even broader, understanding the hidden meaning behind 
her words.  He drew her firmly against him as he repeated his kiss 
from hours earlier.  They both felt the tension in their bodies begin 
to release as the kiss continued to deepen.  Both took their time 
refamiliarizing themselves with the other's mouth; knowing that 
unlike the previous night, the passion wasn't going to stop with just 
the kiss. 

	Walt moved his lips to the hollow at the top of Clare's breastbone 
and alternated between nuzzling and kissing the sensitive area.  
Clare's head dropped back and he eagerly planted his warm wet kisses 
on her exposed neck.  With an effort, and a whimper, Clare stopped 
him to smile a might awkwardly.  "I need to take care of something 
first.  We wouldn't be very responsible if we didn't take the 
necessary precaution."

	He smiled back with a touch of sadness.  They'd talked before of a 
house full of children, but that future wasn't possible anymore.  
"I've got some condoms kicking around."

	Clare raised her eyebrows in mock surprise as he all but blushed.  
She softly kissed him as her expression relaxed.  "Do you *really* 
want to use one?"

	He allowed a devilish smile to cross his face, "No."

	She matched his smile and pulled his head lower so she could kiss 
the top of it.  "Then wait for me in the bedroom and don't get 
undressed."

		*	*	*	*	*	*

A few minutes later -

	Clare rolled her eyes as she removed her low heeled pumps and 
continued across the floor to the bed.  Walt was stretched out fully 
on it fingers laced together under his head; he was smiling at her 
and was also barefoot.  With a mischievous gleam, Clare placed her 
cold fingers against his foot and quickly began tickling him.

	"Jeez, Clare!" he said while sharply contracting his foot, "Your 
hand is like ice."  He instantly regretted the statement as the 
moonlight shone off her face and he saw the devious/thoughtful glint 
in her eyes.  "Don't you dare," he continued while partially sitting 
up.

	"You could always make good on your handcuff threat from before."  
Clare climbed onto him and sat on his thighs.  "Although, you don't 
have the headboard for it this time."  She inched up further until 
she was resting on his hips; well, *her thighs* were resting on his 
hips, her derriere was resting on a much more sensitive area.  He 
groaned slightly as she deliberately had trouble getting comfortable. 
 Clare looked at him with raised eyebrows again.  "Did you say 
something?"

	He grinned at her.  "You can be very bewitching when you want to be.
"  Clare fell over him suddenly to mask the distress his innocent 
comment had just caused.  Before he had a chance to say anything else,
 she quieted him with a passionate kiss.  While he was 
enthusiastically responding, Clare fought a brief internal battle.  
How can this feel so wrong and so right at the same time, she mused 
as she moved her lips to the cleft in his chin and continued down his 
throat.

	Walt was aware of the abrupt increase of tension in her body, 
despite her efforts to distract him.  He wasn't aware that his choice 
of the word 'bewitch' had caused it, but he did realize the 'oddity' 
of what they were doing - falling back into their former relationship 
when both were acutely cognizant of the drastic change in it.

	He pushed all thoughts of that 'change' out of his mind temporarily 
and softly moaned as Clare continued her southern trek.  Walt 
repeatedly ran his fingers through her hair as she painstakingly 
opened each button on his pinstriped cotton shirt and followed each 
unfastening with a fiery kiss.

	The pain in her head was still present, but Clare had learned to 
ignore it to a certain degree.  Medication strong enough to erase it 
left her incapable of doing anything more than sleep - and that was 
hardly what she wanted to do right now; the Ibuprofen would kick in 
eventually and take more of the edge off.  She concentrated all of 
her thought on her current very pleasant task.  She felt herself 
becoming increasingly more aroused as Walt gasped and moaned at each 
of her kisses.  

	When she ran out of buttons, she gently tugged the shirt out of his 
pants and gave his navel some extra attention, to his wriggling 
enjoyment.  She raised her arms up, took one of his wrists in each 
hand and expertly opened the buttons on his cuffs simultaneously.  
Clare quietly chuckled as she very slowly progressed back up his 
chest, his mass of soft curly hair tickling her nose.  She barely 
made it to his throat before he couldn't wait any longer and pulled 
her face back to his and recaptured her mouth.  Clare felt a tingling 
sensation clear down to her toes as he repeatedly plunged his tongue 
deeply into her mouth.

	He wrapped his arms around her and smoothly rolled them both over 
before sitting up and gazing at her with smoky eyes.  "Your turn," he 
huskily said.  He hurriedly pulled his shirt off and tossed it to the 
floor.  Seconds later his hands began unfastening the buttons to her 
muted raspberry colored blouse.  He'd gotten as far as one kiss when 
he groaned a bit in frustration at encountering the camisole 
underneath.

	Clare chuckled again and smiled at him in amusement.  "Still have no 
patience for layers, I see."

	He smiled back as he thoughtfully fingered the fabric of the blouse. 
 "And I see you still have your fondness for silk."

	Clare sat up slightly, propping herself up on her elbows and fixing 
him with a mischievous glance.  "At least this one is washable, in 
case you spill anything on it."  He gave her a look in response.  "So 
what are you going to do about this 'obstacle', Mr. Skinner?"

	He hovered in front of her a moment before tilting her chin and 
lowering his mouth to hers.  Walt quickly unfastened the remaining 
buttons and pulled both the blouse and camisole out.  With his own 
deftness, he unfastened her cuffs.  Reluctantly, he released her 
mouth and gently pulled her to a sitting position.  His mouth 
descended again onto her collar bone and shoulder as his hands pushed 
the blouse down before it joined his on the floor.  

	Walt grasped the bottom of the camisole, pulling it up and over 
Clare's head.  She slowly lowered her arms and wrapped them around 
his neck, placing her lips against the hollow at the top of his 
breastbone and suckling the spot enthusiastically.  He groaned again, 
wrapped his arms around her now mostly bare back and carefully laid 
her flat again.  As soon as her lips stopped moving, he began his own 
painstaking journey, depositing a long series of wet kisses. 

	Clare writhed happily at the feel of his succulent mouth and tongue 
against her flesh.  Each kiss sent a minor shock wave through her 
body.  He made his way down to the waistband of her pants and started 
back up; urged on by her repeated moans of pleasure.  When he reached 
the level of her breasts, he tried to unhook the bra, but she 
wouldn't let him.  "You've already removed two items.  It's time for 
you to be submissive again."  

	He arched an eyebrow at her and spoke with amusement.  "I seem to 
recall your asking me to make love *to* you, or is my memory slipping,
 Ms. Hoffmann/Cartwright?"

	Clare pushed him off and sat up next to him.  Her eyes shone with 
both a mischievous and serious glint as she gradually traced the 
outline of his face, scarcely noticing the recurring bristle of his 
beard.  "I was thinking it's about time I started going by 'Mrs. 
Skinner'."

	The smile across his lips extended all the way up to his softly 
crinkled eyes.  He cupped her chin and leaned closer to her lips, 
softly kissing them before looking into her eyes with a genuine 
happiness.  "Nothing would make me happier ...... *Mrs.* Skinner."

	She pushed him onto his back and formed her lips into a devious 
smile.  "I'm sure I can come up with something to make you happier."  
Clare straddled his body again and placed her warmer hands against 
his chest, marveling at the tremendous tone.  She massaged with a 
firm pressure, gliding her fingers across his well developed pecs and 
rock hard abdomen, occasionally tangling her fingers in the hair.  

	With a gentler pressure, she toyed with his small nipples, rolling 
them between her fingers, before lowering her head to them.  Walt 
moaned louder as she flicked her tongue against them and softly 
suckled.  He ran his fingers up and down her spine, ignoring his 
'submissive role'.   

	Walt jumped as he felt Clare's hand travel to his groin, opening the 
zipper.  Her head began moving south as she steadily rubbed his 
engorged member.  Walt turned his head slightly from side to side as 
he softly groaned; Clare slid her body further down his legs.  "Would 
you open the damn button already," he growled with very husky edge.

	Clare stopped her ministrations momentarily, her own voice seductive 
and sultry.  "Lose your patience for foreplay?"  He arched an eyebrow 
in response.  She smiled and bent her head to the waistband before 
biting the button off; she sat up again and exaggeratingly spit it 
out onto the bed.  

	Walt sat up more aroused, but also in a playful mood.  "I just 
bought this suit, don't go ruining it."

	"And a very nice subtle tweed it is," Clare responded while inching 
the trousers from his hips and down his legs.  She'd no sooner tossed 
them to the floor and moved back onto him, when he pulled her back 
onto his chest.  The kiss was insistent and fervent as his hands ran 
the length of her spine and he grasped the button on her pants.  
Clare chuckled softly and looked into his eyes with merriment.  "I 
see you noticed where the zipper was."

	"Just because I'm no longer in the field, doesn't mean I've lost my 
powers of observation."  The zipper was taken care of and both her 
pants and panties were gone a few seconds later.  Clare's hands went 
back to his briefs and divested him of same; his blood filled 
appendage dug into her abdomen in a most delightful way.  

	Skinner grabbed the bra again and quickly unhooked it, Clare's eager 
breasts spilling out as they were released.  She maintained her 
slightly raised position as Walt proceeded to fondle her breasts.  
"I'm not complaining by any means, but I don't quite remember you 
being this 'endowed' before."  She softly laughed and captured his 
mouth again, probing it deeply.  He held her tighter and rolled over 
once more.

	Skinner ended the kiss and zealously advanced his mouth to one 
plumper breast.  Clare arched a split second after feeling his 
roughly textured tongue sweep across it; a soft moan accompanying the 
action.  He suckled with rampant abandon as she continually moaned 
and repeatedly arched.  One hand began manipulating the other breast 
with practiced skill as the other began to slowly move between her 
legs.

	Clare felt as though time was standing still as the familiar and 
long missed shock waves crashed over her.  She gasped as he switched 
sides and began anew to please her.  His throbbing cock was damply 
and insistently pressing against her when his fingers reached her 
clit.

	A few seconds later her orgasm exploded and a myriad of colors 
flashed before her eyes.  She sharply arched her back and cried out, 
"Oh, God, Walt."  Clare bucked a few seconds before becoming very 
still; he looked up at her instantly concerned.  She opened her eyes 
and took in a deep breath.  "I'm fine, ch‚ri."  He smiled in relief 
and at the French.  "It's been awhile and the 'endowment' is courtesy 
of six months of breast feeding, they didn't quite return to their 
previous size."

	He ran his hands lightly across her breasts and down the rest of her 
body before kneeling between her legs.  "I'm appreciatively noticing 
the rest of you seems a bit rounder as well, mon amour."

	Clare arched her eyes at him before dropping her head back as he 
penetrated her.  "Five pounds of baby weight stubbornly refused to 
come off," she gasped as his considerable size stretched her briefly 
and she closed her eyes. 

	"It looks *very* good on you," he hotly whispered as he tantalized 
her mouth again and continued his slow pattern of advancing and 
retreating.  Clare let him get away with his teasing thrusts a few 
moments longer before she employed the same trick she'd used the 
first time they'd had sex - she tightened her vaginal muscles and 
prevented him from leaving.  Walt stopped the kiss and looked into 
her impish eyes, his own expression amused.  "Trying to tell me 
something?"

	Clare leaned upward and nipped his chin, her eyes lighting up still 
more. "Quit horsing around," she uttered seductively.

	He raised an eyebrow yet again.  "Why is it that 'horses' always 
seem to come up with us?"

	She rolled her eyes before pulling him back to her.  "Later."  He 
picked up the pace as they passionately kissed, their tongues 
fighting for dominance.   They both groaned as their lips separated 
and each took turns pursuing other areas.  Clare busied herself with 
planting wet kisses along his throat, his collarbone, his upper chest.
  Walt chose to nuzzle her ear, her neck and the hollow at her 
breastbone.

	He returned to her mouth as the thrusts reached a near frantic level 
and their sweat covered bodies pounded against each other.  Clare's 
hands slid down his back and kneaded the firm flesh of his buttocks; 
they were both so close.  Walt moved his head to her breast one last 
time and pushed her over the edge.

	She arched very sharply once again as she cried out his name 
repeatedly and whimpered in between.  Her hands instantly rose back 
to his tail bone; the combination of her cries and the pressure of 
her fingers on this sensitive spot pushed *him* over the edge.  Clare 
swore she could feel each stream of his ejaculate as he emptied 
himself deep within her.  Walt let loose his own long low cry and 
continued thrusting a few moments longer, savoring the aftershocks of 
his climax.  

	He laid his dripping head gently against her shoulder and she 
wrapped her arms around him while they both struggled to take deep 
breaths.  It occurred to Walt that Clare was having a harder time 
with most of his weight pinning her down and he rolled off her.  He 
pulled her completely on top of him, wanting to maintain as much 
contact as possible, as he tenderly stroked her back.  Walt smiled 
unconsciously as Clare sighed in contentment and burrowed her head 
further into his damp chest, running her fingers through its hair.

	He wiped some of the sweat from his face and softly spoke to her.  
"Are you all right?"

	"Ummmm.  Better than I've been in a long time.  Every part of my 
body is still tingling wonderfully."  She elevated herself slightly 
and ran a finger over his lips.  "And it's the first time all day 
that I haven't had even a trace of a headache."  

	His eyes crinkled as he parted his lips, "You're welcome."  He 
sucked her finger into his mouth.

	Clare laughed and pulled it back out with a soft pop before resting 
her head again.  "At the risk of inflating your ego, you did spoil me 
for the few other guys I've been involved with since .................
...... we've been apart."  The playfulness in her tone changed 
abruptly at the end.

	Walt kissed the top of her head thoughtfully.  "I didn't get 
involved for two years after I ............ after I thought I buried 
you.  And then it didn't last more than a few weeks.  She was more 
interested in my title than me.  There were a couple more, but they 
lasted even less time.  I just couldn't seem to find a woman I could 
really connect with, like it had been with us.  Well, like I thought 
it had been with us.  God, that sounds awful."

	Clare looked up again and placed her fingers against his lips.  "No, 
it doesn't; I know what you mean.  Any time a guy asked me out I kept 
thinking I was cheating on you; which basically, I was.  The last one,
 Kevin, wanted to get married."  She averted her eyes from his face, 
"He was sweet and gentle, adored Anthony, but ........................
...."

	Walt gently turned her chin back to him.  "But what?"

	"But I didn't love him ..................... like I said, I'm still 
in love with you."  Clare sat up, shivering slightly.  Walt reached 
down to the floor and grabbed his shirt; he held the sleeve out for 
her as she hesitantly put her arm through first one, then the other.  


	She couldn't stop the smile spreading across her face as he slowly 
buttoned her into his shirt.  *He* couldn't help noticing her grin 
even in the paleness of the moonlight.  "What?"

	"Just remembering what happened to the last dress shirt of yours I 
wore."

	He smiled back, a trifle slyly as they climbed under the covers and 
snuggled up again.  "I *am* going to make you sew that button back on 
my trousers before we leave tomorrow."

		*	*	*	*	*	*


From Clare_Skinner@prodigy.com Tue Oct 22 10:56:06 1996

	Clare awoke first the next morning.  She felt very briefly 
disoriented at the surroundings; then she felt completely at home.  
She was laying on her side; Walt's body pressed against hers, his arm 
draped protectively over her, his head nestled on her shoulder.  It 
feels so right here with him, she thought.  She couldn't banish the 
negative thoughts that instantly followed and internally sighed at 
the wasted seven years they could never get back, at the tremendously 
uncertain future that awaited them.

	She was trying to figure out how she could slide out from his 
embrace without waking him, when he rolled over on his own.  Clare 
crept noiselessly from the bed, pausing long enough to look back 
lovingly at his peaceful sleeping form before grabbing her overnight 
bag and leaving the room.

	After exiting the bathroom, she quickly decided to take care of her 
growling stomach.  As she balanced several eggs in her hands and 
started to walk to the stove, one fell with a pronounced splat.  She 
swore under her breath and put the remaining eggs down on the counter 
before retrieving the cleaner and paper towel.  Clare rolled her eyes 
as she looked toward the stove from her kneeling position on the 
floor - the stupid egg had splattered quite a distance.  She'd just 
stretched to clean another area when out of the corner of her eye she 
saw movement.  Clare laid flat out and barely caught the second egg 
as it slid off the counter.

	She laid still, swearing to herself and didn't hear Walt approaching.
  He rounded the corner and his heart all but stopped as he saw Clare 
laying on her stomach on the floor.  "Clare!"  His voice registered 
an extreme amount of concern as he hurriedly moved next to her.

	She looked up and muttered at him.  "I don't recall your damn 
counters sloping toward the floor."  He looked back at her as he sat 
down and slumped against the cabinets, the shock still prevalent on 
his face.  It took Clare a split second longer to realize how the 
scene had appeared from his perspective.  Her voice was edged with 
empathy and apology as she crawled to him.  "Walt, I'm sorry; I 
dropped an egg and ......................"  She stopped realizing it 
was ridiculous to try to explain right now and cradled his head 
against her as he fiercely held on to her.

	It was a few moments later before he took a deep breath and relaxed 
his grip, leaning his head back against the counter.  When he spoke, 
his voice was a mix of tiredness, pain and hopelessness; his eyes 
were nearly unseeing as he looked straight ahead.  "How do you do it? 
 Live each day knowing it could be your last."

	Clare sat up on her knees as she stroked his face and gently turned 
it back to her; she softly kissed him.  "I try not to think about it.
"  Already, she could feel another headache beginning.  "The quality 
of my life, and more importantly, Anthony's life, would be short 
changed if I dwelled on it.  His life will be hard enough when I'm 
gone; I'm trying very hard to make it happy for him now."  She took 
his hand and kissed the palm.  "At least he'll have you."

	Walt smiled sadly prior to moving his hand past her ear and into her 
hair.  He pulled her toward him and kissed Clare with a building 
passion.  Her eager response encouraged him as he slowly stood and 
gently pulled her up, into his arms.  He continued the kiss as his 
hands traveled down her body and under the shirt.  Walt caressed her 
buttocks through the panties and picked her up, briefly, before 
depositing her on the counter.  Seconds later he was unfastening the 
shirt buttons.  She watched him with a certain degree of humor and 
arched as his mouth descended onto her breast.  As the shock waves 
surged through her, she teased him.  "Are you planning to take me 
here in the kitchen, *Agent* Skinner?"

	He stopped his progress and smiled more broadly at her.  "With your 
permission, *Agent Hoffmann*."

	She nipped his chin, "You most definitely have my permission."

	Walt gently pushed her hair behind her ears as a thoughtful 
expression crossed his face, his voice was low and serious.  "Maybe 
we should move this to the floor, less chance of your head hitting 
the cabinet that way."

	Clare smiled a bit sadly and hopped off the counter as he stood back.
  "Well, since the mood has been broken from a practical standpoint, 
why don't we just go back to the bedroom and a soft surface."


		*	*	*	*	*	*

	Clare felt her headache increasing in magnitude as they stood in an 
elevator of the Hoover building.  She rubbed her temples absently as 
Walt squeezed her hand, drawing odd glances from the other passengers.
  He ignored these as he had all the other looks they'd drawn since 
entering the building.  Walt wasn't exactly gushing over her, but 
neither was he going out of his way to hide his affection.  Clare was 
thankful they hadn't run into anyone who would possibly remember her .
........ yet.

	The elevator stopped and they stepped out, proceeding to his office. 
 Kimberly looked up in surprise.  "Sir?  I didn't expect you to be in 
the office today."

	He smiled briefly as she glanced questioningly at Clare and his 
holding of her hand.  "I'm not, officially.  I'm meeting with the 
Director in ten minutes and wanted to check on a few things first."

	"Walt?  Aren't you going to introduce us?"  He turned back to Clare 
and her mischievous smile, the smile that wasn't entirely hiding the 
pain in her head.

	"Clare, my administrative assistant, Kimberly Cooke."  Kimberly 
stood up and moved around her desk, extending her hand as Clare did.  
Her interest was well peaked at this woman who seemed to exert 
control over her boss.  He continued with an arched eyebrow.  
"Kimberly, Clarissa Hoffmann, a former agent ........ and my wife."  


	Kimberly coughed as her eyes grew wide.  She deliberately looked at 
their hands again, this time noting the wedding bands.  He must have 
eloped, she thought.  How did he manage to keep her from me?  She 
never called and I certainly don't remember seeing her around the 
office.  I wonder how long she's been retired, she continued.  He 
certainly seems happy.  The women stopped shaking hands and Kimberly 
looked at him, her voice calmer.  "Congratulations, sir."

	He smiled again before slightly frowning as Clare rubbed her temples 
once more.  "Thank you.  Would you get a glass of water for Clare, 
please?"

	Clare rolled her eyes at him.  "Walt, I know where the water cooler 
is, I'm not an invalid, I can get it myself."

	He twisted his lips into a more mischievous smile.  "With a 
visitor's badge, you can't wander the halls alone, you know that."

	"I'm happy to get it for you, be right back," Kimberly interjected 
and hastily left the office.  She smiled her way to the cooler.  
Clare was exactly the type of woman she'd always expected he'd choose.
  Tall, 'properly proportioned', good looking but not in a flashy way,
 humorous, intelligent.  They obviously cared a great deal about each 
other.  She wondered how long it would be before they started a 
family, or even if they would.  Kimberly shook her head and reminded 
herself it was none of her business.

	Clare ambled through the office while Walt quickly scanned his 
messages.  Her eyes lighted on the name placard on his desk and she 
raised them questioningly.  He looked up at that moment and saw where 
her eyes were focussed.  "I still have the one you gave me.  Too many 
people kept asking me what the 'S' stood for, so I got a different 
one."

	She walked around the desk and wrapped her arms around him from the 
back, resting her chin on his shoulder.  "Afraid people would think 
you were a Russian mole, Sergei?"  She'd toyed with saying it in 
Russian, but didn't think he'd appreciate her humor.  He turned 
around and kissed her, not bothering to restrain himself.  Clare 
blinked a few times as they moved marginally apart.  "You don't seem 
too concerned about office decorum, Assistant Director Skinner."

	He smiled almost deviously as he retrieved a handkerchief and 
carefully removed Clare's lipstick from his mouth.  By the time 
Kimberly came back, all 'decorum' had been restored.  Clare took the 
water gratefully and quickly swallowed several tablets.  They left 
for the Director's office immediately afterwards.

			*	*	*	*	*	*

	FBI Director Edward McIntire sat behind his desk, thinking.  He 
wasn't at all happy about the story he had just heard, about the 
compliance he was being asked to give.  He stood up as both Clare and 
Walt watched him warily.  McIntire turned to the window and weighed 
the options.  If the information were released, a significant chunk 
of that damned organization would be exposed - at the expense of an 
innocent six year old boy.  He thought of his own grown children and 
knew he couldn't, wouldn't jeopardize their lives for the sake of the 
greater good.  

	He also didn't envy Walt having to raise a child by himself.  
McIntire sighed remembering how hard it had been to raise his three 
after Peggy had died from cancer just over seven and a half years ago.
  He grimaced thinking about the one time he had been unfaithful to 
her and with who.

	"Walt, would you step outside," he said turning suddenly, "I'd like 
to speak to your wife alone for a few minutes.

	Skinner raised an eyebrow suggestively, but stood anyway.  "Of 
course, sir."  He left and McIntire sighed again as he looked at 
Clare.

	"Why?" his voice was quiet and slightly hesitant, "Why didn't your 
'associates' use the affair against me?  That was the plan, wasn't it?
  Bring me up before the OPC.  Hell, fellow field agents getting 
involved is a minor breach of Protocol; you and I would have been a 
major breach, especially since I was still married at the time. "

	Clare stood slowly and walked to him, taking his hand and squeezing 
it compassionately.  "As hard as it may be for you to believe, Ned, 
you weren't being set up, at least not by me.  Our running into each 
other really was just a coincidence."  She released his hand and 
turned away.  "My own grandmother had just died from cancer, I knew 
what you were going through."  Clare turned back to face him.  "And I 
knew if I left you in that bar, drinking as heavily as you were, 
you'd get some very bad publicity - if not much worse."

	He smiled a bit reluctantly.  "So you're saying that you 'protected' 
me out of the kindness of your heart?"  

	Clare sighed and sadly smiled back.  "Assassins still do have hearts 
- they, *we*, just learn to shut them off, until someone comes along 
and makes us question ourselves."  Both looked thoughtfully at each 
other a few moments.  "You were vulnerable, lonely, drunk and very 
exposed.  My boss was highly irritated when he discovered I hadn't 
'exploited' the situation."  

	McIntire looked away, out the window again.  "I went out of my way 
to avoid you for weeks after that.  I kept wondering why you didn't 
want anything from me, didn't expect preferential treatment.  Even 
drunk I knew what I was doing.  Every minute of that night is still 
vividly clear in my mind, everything we did ...................." 

	Clare smiled despite herself as McIntire grimaced slightly; she 
walked back to him and took his hand again.  "Ned, you hadn't slept 
with Peggy for more than six months because of her cancer, you had a 
lot of 'energy' to release."

	He smiled softly at her and briefly caressed her hand.  "Have you 
told Walt?"

	She removed her hand quickly, shaking her head.  "He hardly would 
have sat here quietly if he'd known."  Clare smiled ruefully as she 
rubbed her temples.  "The missed 'opportunity' was one of the reasons 
the plan against Walt and Latham was hatched.  'Professionals' are 
usually employed where sex is concerned, but due to the nature of the 
plot, I was assigned."

	She walked away again and sat down, looking at the floor in front of 
her.  McIntire sat on the corner of his desk, his tone was still low 
and oddly appreciative.  "Thank you."  Clare cast her eyes upward, 
smiling strangely.  "I should have thanked you before for helping me 
that night.  And now that I know who you worked for ..................
......................"  He stood up again and moved behind his desk. 
 "I'll push the paperwork through for Walt's leave effective 
immediately."

	Clare stood up, her expression and voice soft and grateful.  "For 
how long?"

	He looked at her with compassion; the deadly outcome of her medical 
condition justified his willingness to allow her to escape 
prosecution.  Additionally, he felt in a sense that he owed her 
something for what she *hadn't* done to him earlier.  "A full year."

	Her eyes raised in surprise and her voice was almost alarmed.  "You 
can't do that.  Policy doesn't allow for him to return to his job if 
he's voluntarily gone more than six months.  Walt needs this job, 
it's his life."

	McIntire smiled slightly and walked back to her, taking her hand 
again.  "I know that.  He's one of the best people I have working for 
me and I have no intention of losing him.  I'll make sure the 
position remains open for him for the entire year."  He pulled her 
hand to his lips and softly kissed it.  "Consider it my belated 
thanks."

	Clare slowly drew her hand back and averted her eyes.  The headache 
wasn't abating at all, even with the tablets.  She gazed back at him 
with sadness in her eyes.  "I don't think he'll be gone that long ....
.......................  Walt will definitely want to know what we 
talked about.  I have to tell him the truth."

	"I know, he deserves that.  It might, however, be better if you 
waited until you've left the building."

		*	*	*	*	*	*	

	Clare leaned her aching head against the window as Walt drove.  His 
jaw was clenched shut and there were tiny lines of anger around his 
narrowed eyes.  Ned had been wrong, waiting hadn't been a good idea.  
Walt had *barely* agreed to leave the building without an explanation.
  Kimberly had been wide eyed again when he'd announced his immediate 
leave to her and given her the phone number where he could be reached.
  Clare had clearly seen the question in her mind about the sudden 
and dramatic change in their behavior toward each other.

	Walt abruptly pulled the car off the road and turned the engine off. 
 He took a deep breath and all but growled at her.  "You set up 
McIntire, didn't you?  You had sex with him and now you just used it 
against him.  How could you blackmail the Director of the FBI?"  
Clare looked mournfully into her lap.  "Answer me!"

	She bit her lip and closed her eyes, feeling the pain increasing 
another notch.  "I don't think it's going to work between us," she 
began slowly.  "You can't let go of who I was.  You ................. 
you won't give me the benefit of a doubt.  You still think I'm 
manipulative and conniving ........... and I'm not."  She felt tears 
welling up and willed them to go away.  Don't cry, Clare, do anything 
else, but don't cry, she told herself.  Her hand instinctively went 
to the door handle, but she knew leaving the car wouldn't accomplish 
anything.

	"Clare, look at me."  His tone was softer, briefly, but raised again 
unconsciously when she refused to comply.  "Damn it, Clare.  Look at 
me!"  

	She hesitantly raised her chin and turned her head to face him, 
tears spilling from her eyes.  "I wish ...............................
....... I wish Anthony hadn't contacted you.  This isn't the way I 
want to remember us.  I, I can't do this."  She opened the door and 
released the seatbelt at the same time, but couldn't get out of the 
car before Walt stopped her.  She closed her eyes again at the 
insistent pressure of his hand around her wrist.  "Walt, please, let 
me go."  Her tone was pleading as she tried again to step out of the 
car.

	He pulled her back a second time.  "Leaving won't solve anything."  
Walt forced his voice to be gentle.  He desperately wanted to believe 
that she wasn't playing a game with him; and was deeply pained that 
in his heart, he didn't know.  Dear God, she's right, he thought, it 
isn't going to work.  The bond of trust has been broken and no matter 
how much we both want it back, it can't be rebuilt in time, he 
continued.

	He released her wrist and slumped back into his seat.  It suddenly 
occurred to him that even if she had had an affair with McIntire, the 
power of that information would have long ago dissipated.  She was 
right, he still thought of her as black ops and it was going to come 
up again and again unless he made a conscious decision to either put 
it behind them or let it destroy the little time they had left.

	Clare hesitated on the seat and stopped herself from rubbing her 
forehead again; if she couldn't control the tears, she wouldn't allow 
the pain in her head to make her appear weaker, not now.  She didn't 
want his pity, she wanted his love and trust.  "We can't keep doing 
this; it isn't healthy ................. for either of us.  I 
honestly believe there isn't enough time left for me to earn your 
trust, you simply have to give it or withhold it."  Clare took 
another deep breath.  "I won't keep you from Anthony; he's your son 
and it wouldn't be fair to either of you.  But if you can't give me 
your trust, there's no hope for us.  Either way, I love you and I 
always will."  She left immediately after and didn't bother closing 
the door.

	Walt beat his head against the upholstery several times as he 
watched her walk away.  Why can't I give her the benefit of the doubt,
 he thought; God, this isn't how I want it to end between us.  If he 
believed in her love, he had to trust her.  She'd already proven that 
she loved him, would do anything to protect him.  She had just made 
her second leap of faith; now it was his turn.  

	He hurriedly exited the car and ran after her.  She stopped as he 
called her name and tried unsuccessfully to blink back the latest 
influx of tears.  No matter which decision he made, a part of him 
would be compromised, his integrity or his love; this she painfully 
knew for sure.  

	One look into his emotion filled eyes gave her the answer.  Any 
doubt was further erased as he tightly embraced her before kissing 
her with an extraordinary combination of gentleness and passion.  He 
took her hand, "Come on, mon amour, I have a lot of packing to do 
before we fly back to Iowa."  She smiled with just a trace of sadness 
- his integrity had lost.

		*	*	*	*	*	*

	They drove the rest of the way back to his apartment in silence; not 
tension filled silence, but rather the silence of relief.  As they 
jointly gathered his clothing, Clare repeated her conversation with 
McIntire - in its entirety.  Walt slightly smiled realizing she truly 
was leaving nothing out.  But then he inwardly frowned realizing that 
she was right, no matter how badly he wanted them to have a year, he 
didn't dare hope it would be that long.  

	He allowed himself to be proud of her for not exploiting the affair -
 and it finally occurred to him that he'd never asked her what had 
started her back on the road to, well, good.  It wasn't necessary 
anymore, the timing of her liaison with McIntire provided the answer.


	She smiled at him as they closed the last of the suitcases.  "Yes, 
mon cher,  Ned was the reason my beliefs began to change.  He started 
the change .................. and you completed it."

	He pulled her into his arms again and smoothed her hair.  "How did 
you know what I was thinking?"

	She softly kissed him and gently stroked his cheek.  "Because when 
your guard is down, your face is very readable."

	Walt smiled back and kissed her with a passion that would have to 
wait if they were gong to catch the plane.  He frowned as he saw the 
pain she was trying to suppress.  "Take the medication, Clare.  
Nothing is gained by putting yourself through the migraines."

	She kissed his hand and pulled away, reaching for the smaller of his 
luggage.  "After we're on the plane, I promise."  She turned back and 
forced a sly smile, "You'll never be able to manage all this stuff if 
you have to carry my sleeping form as well."

		*	*	*	*	*	*	

	Walt held her hand as he drove back from the airport.  She was still 
groggy but looked more at peace than she had since their 'reunion'.  
He didn't look forward to her doctor's appointment the next morning.  
He knew the stress of the last few days had worsened her condition, 
he didn't know if he was prepared to know by how much.  They'd have 
to contact her family, tell them she was alive, that Anthony existed. 
 Walt gently squeezed her hand as she smiled at him.  He wanted to 
keep her to himself, share her only with their son, but he knew he 
didn't have the right.

	They pulled into the driveway and exited the car.  Anthony came 
charging from the porch and ran straight to Clare as she kneeled down 
to catch him.  Scully and Mulder followed him out of the house.  They 
looked at Skinner somewhat questioningly as Clare stood up and took 
Anthony's hand.  Clare walked to Skinner and Anthony took his hand as 
well.

	"What happens now?" Scully asked with a slightly bright smile, 
taking in the peace and affection emanating from the three.

	Skinner's voice was calm as he responded.  "I've arranged for a 
temporary leave of absence effective immediately."

	Mulder raised his eyes a bit.  "Sir?"

	Walt looked fondly at Clare and Anthony, at the family he'd wanted 
for so long.  "I've missed too much in the last seven years, I'm 
going to take the time to catch up while I can."


THE END.


The next in the series is Unified.