Date: Mon, 5 Oct 1998 10:40:24 -0500 (CDT)
Subject: Elevator Dreams (1/1) by Gena Abernathy

Elevator Dreams

By:  Gena Abernathy, October 1998
email:  cosic@fis.utoronto.ca

Rating:  PG

Category: Humorous Story--Episode 3 in a series

Keywords: Skinner/Other UST

Summary:  FBI Research Assistant Carolyn Davis finds herself stuck in
an elevator with Assistant Director Skinner....

Disclaimer #1:  I am the first to admit I don't know much about the
FBI "Hoover" building.  The layout of the offices, the elevators, and
nearly everything else in my story, are strictly the result of my
overactive imagination.

Disclaimer #2:  It is (gratefully!) acknowledged that several
characters in this story are property of Chris Carter and Ten Thirteen
Productions, and no infringement of copyright was intended.

***

"Who would you most like to spend time with in a hot tub?"

I paused my sandwich in mid-bite and stared across the cafeteria
table.  Then I blinked at the little man who sat there.  "What??"

"I mean, like who's your fantasy person?"

I choked down a chunk of whole-wheat bagel and quickly washed it down
with a large gulp of cranberry juice.  Then I stared at my co-worker,
Hubert Manly, again.

Because there was no way on earth I was answering that question.  Not
that I should have worried, since Hubert wasn't particularly
interested in my dream fantasy person.  But that's just as good.  It
would hardly do to sit in the middle of the main staff cafeteria of
the FBI building and tell a co-worker that your dream hot tub fantasy
man was the Assistant Director....

Hubert was blathering on.  "My dream girl would be Wonderwoman."

I blinked at Hubert again.  He takes "retro" to a whole new dimension,
considering he seems to spend all of his free time watching TV shows
from the 1970s.

"Really," I murmured, noncommittally, barely refraining from
mentioning that Wonderwoman, Xena, or whatever warrior princess of the
week Hubert was in love with, would probably run screaming from any
hot tub she found herself sharing with him.

But I can hardly blame Hubert for having a rich fantasy life.  I have
to admit that I spend many minutes in each day with delicious
fantasies of my own.

All involve a certain Walter Skinner, Assistant Director of the FBI. 
Tall, strong, muscular and...virile.  The man oozes sexiness, at least
whenever I happen to see him, which isn't often enough.  Usually he
manages to turn me into a quivering jelly of hormones when he's
around, and I rarely get two words out of my mouth without stuttering.

I'm still living down this past summer's annual picnic.  I treasure it
as the most perfect day imaginable--tied up with the A.D., running and
winning the three-legged race.  Unfortunately, before that glorious
moment, I spent most of the day stumbling and mumbling like an
underpaid clown at a four year old's picnic.  Even
lives-in-his-own-world Hubert noticed I wasn't my usual efficient,
business-like self that day.  And the entire accounting department
still seems to snicker whenever I happen to walk by.  But I don't
care.  Running that race with the A.D. made it all worth it.

"So, how about next week?"

I managed to pull myself out of my current fantasy involving A.D.
Skinner, and reluctantly clued into Hubert's question, vaguely
wondering if he was still on about hot tubs.  "What??"

"The planning meeting for the FBI's Annual Staff Christmas Party."

"Hubert, this is only the third week of September!" I exclaimed,
wondering if he was serious.

He was.  In the end it was no use arguing.  So we'll plan the FBI's
Annual Staff Christmas Party three months early.

But my mind wasn't on Christmas or any staff parties for the rest of
the day.  I had a major research assignment dropped on my desk at one
o'clock and it was due to be in the hands of the Director by 6 p.m. 
If I worked like mad, and didn't stop to breathe, I think I had a slim
chance of finishing it on time.

I did.  By 4:30 it was done.  This was when the Director's secretary
informed me that he was at a meeting across town.  An important
meeting--the meeting he needed the research report for.  And normally,
she said, she'd take it across town, only she had a very important
doctor's appointment she couldn't miss, so would I mind taking it to
the Director myself?

You might be wondering, at this point, whether or not the FBI has
heard of fax machines.  We have, but the Bureau sometimes distrusts
modern communications technology when it comes to top secret
documents.  Good old-fashioned human couriers seem to be preferred.

So it came to be nearly 5 o'clock and I suddenly had to fight my way
across downtown traffic to get the top secret document to the
Director.

And being the self-collected, cool and steady person that I am, I
panicked.  I quickly huddled the sealed file in my arms, and rushed
out of my office, backwards, dropping my keys in my haste to lock the
door.

When I recovered my keys, locked the door, and turned quickly around,
I managed to smack right up against...

Special Agent Fox Mulder.

"Woah," his hands held my arms to steady me.  Then he reached down to
pick up the file I'd dropped.  "Where's the fire?" he added, grinning.

I told him.  The whole long, dull story of my dreadful afternoon,
leaving out only the part about Hubert's lunchtime conversation of hot
tubs.

"Well, I'm heading off in that direction, so I can drop you off."

"Really?"  I asked, thrilled that I wouldn't have to make three bus
transfers in the heart of rush hour.  "Gee, that would be great."  I'd
long since suspected that Fox "Spooky" Mulder was really a nice guy,
despite what some other agents in the Bureau said about him.

So it was decided, and a minute later we were off.  I even began to
relax a little.  Until Agent Mulder spoke again.

"Oh, I just need to make one quick stop before we go."

I nodded, but my insides began to turn to jelly again as I recognized
the route his diversion was taking.

And before I could make a decision whether to run or duck into the
nearest bathroom, we were there.  In A.D. Skinner's office.

Kimberly waved us through, smiling at Mulder and nodding at me.

I gulped.

There he was.  Sitting behind his desk, his elbows propped on the
edge, shirt sleeves rolled up, a piece of paper held between both
hands.  Something like a thousand butterflies flitted through my
stomach as I stared at his large, capable, and oh-so-masculine
hands....

Then his dark eyes glanced up from the letter and he stared hard at me
until my breath caught in my throat...

I'm sure Agent Mulder spoke then, but I didn't hear him.  In fact I
didn't clue in until Kimberly came in and told Agent Mulder he had an
urgent call.

My heart did a flip flop alternating between instant agony and
anticipated delight.  Would Agent Mulder take the call outside the
office and leave me alone with A.D. Skinner?

He didn't.  He took the call at the A.D.'s request on the A.D.'s
phone, and the long and the short of it was he got called away. 
Immediately.

Agent Mulder turned to me and apologized for not being able to drive
me after all.  And I swear I'm not making this up, but the A.D. turned
to me and said these words:  "I don't mind dropping Miss Davis at the
Senator's home.  It's on my way."

If I'd been writing at that moment, I would have dropped my pen.  If
I'd been walking, I would have tripped.  If I'd been...well, you get
the idea.  Had I really heard correctly?  Had the A.D. just offered to
drive me across town in rush-hour traffic?

Apparently he had.  Agent Mulder said good-bye, gave me a quick smile,
and left.

I can't even tell you what happened next.  My mind blanked out for at
least five minutes, as I tried to comprehend sitting in a car with
A.D. Skinner, the object of my wildest fantasies...

Somehow I made it out of his office, and walked alongside him down the
corridor.  I don't think I spoke, at least I hope I didn't, because
I'm sure nothing sensible would have made it from my brain to my
mouth.  It was a miracle my wobbly legs managed to hold me up.

We were just about at the elevator when I heard my name being called
behind me.

It was Hubert.  At the worst possible time.

"Carolyn!  I've set a date."  Hubert caught up with us, out of breath
from jogging the last few steps.  "Sir," he said, nodding at A.D.
Skinner.

"A date for what?" I snapped, thinking it was entirely unfair that
Hubert was interrupting the only time I had to spend with the A.D.

"Next week's meeting.  For the Annual Staff Christmas Party,
remember?"

I blushed then, and glanced at my watch, sure that any second now A.D.
Skinner would excuse himself and apologize that he didn't have time to
drive me anywhere after all.  Simply because Hubert and his stupid
Christmas party planning were wasting precious seconds!

I took a deep breath--more of a sigh, really.  "Fine, Hubert.  Email
me!" I told him decisively, surprised a little at the boldness of my
tone.  But time was a'wastin' and that fact alone had given me a
sudden spurt of courage.

Or perhaps it was a mild form of insanity.  I'm sure you know the
feeling.  When you suddenly feel a surge of bravery and think you can
handle something that in reality you're totally unprepared for...

Like an hour in a car alone with Assistant Director Skinner.

Even a thirty-second ride in an elevator.  Somehow I managed to make
it down the hall beside him, and somehow I even managed to step onto
the elevator next to him.  Believe it or not, I even remembered to
breathe as the doors closed, and shut us up together--alone--in a very
small space.

Then the elevator creaked, not a few seconds after it had started its
descent.

Then the elevator lurched to a complete stop, not a few seconds after
it had creaked.

Then...the lights went dead.

I gulped, trying to work out the least stupid-sounding cowardly phrase
I could come up with.  But A.D. Skinner was already speaking.

"What the hell?" he murmured.  "What's going on?"  I didn't think he
was asking me, which was just as good since not a sound was managing
to make its way past my lips.  I heard him pick up the emergency phone
and less than a minute later we had our explanation.  Power was out
all over our section of the city, in such a wide radius that no one
could estimate how long it would take to fix.  Minutes or hours...

I was about to ask about a back-up generator (well okay, no, I wasn't
about to ask him that, but it would have been a good question, don't
you think?)  But once again the A.D. was ahead of me, or, as I prefer
to think of it, he was reading my thoughts.

"The back-up system only works for the computers and some essential
areas," he explained.  "It can be re-routed to the elevators, but it's
my guess they'll wait to see if the main power comes back on before
they bother."

Okay.  I know what you're thinking.  My account of events is dwindling
into boring technical details.  In another minute A.D. Skinner and I
will sound like crew members on a Star Trek episode (I canna re-route
the power, Captain!  I need more time!)

Back to the more serious matter at hand.  Here I was, stuck in a dark
elevator, alone with the man of my most delicious fantasies...

"I'm sure the power will be back on in a minute," he said.  Okay, not
exactly the words I would have chosen had this event been happening in
a daydream.

I nodded, but realized too late he couldn't see me.  But what could I
say?  I didn't even have any daydreams to pull suitable dialogue from.
 I'd never imagined being trapped in a dark elevator with the A.D. 
Stranded on a desert island, yes...  <sigh>

Actually I didn't sigh.  I was too nervous.  At least we wouldn't have
to worry about running out of air anytime soon, since I was barely
breathing.

Another minute passed in silence.  Or maybe it was ten minutes--I'd
already lost track of time, and somehow didn't clue into the fact that
my battery-powered indiglo watch was immune to power failures.

"So, it seems like we're stuck here for awhile," A.D. Skinner said,
another eternity later.

"Mm-hmm," I muttered, inanely.  I wonder what Miss Manners has to say
about stuck-in-an-elevator etiquette.  Is there a rule about how close
people should stand?  Is it very poor form to entertain fantasies that
the elevator might lurch once again, thus sending one flying into the
arms of the tall, handsome man trapped with you?

Perhaps the ancient Roman elevator gods read my thoughts (hey, the
Romans had modern plumbing, why not elevators?)  But I digress...such
was the state of my racing mind--and raging hormones--because suddenly
the elevator lurched a second time.

With an apology to all the brave-souled women in the world, I admit
that I cried out.  Or whimpered.  I'm not sure which, but I know I
made some kind of frightened sound because I really didn't like the
idea of plunging to a certain death, not when I'd just managed to
spend my first few minutes alone with the man of my dreams.

The next two events occurred simultaneously.  First the A.D. reassured
me that everything would be okay, in a deep, warm, reassuring tone. 
And then I felt his fingers clasp my arm.

His touch was electrifying!  My entire body shivered as his fingers
slipped down my arm to take my hand in his.

Another lurch from the elevator.

Another discreet murmur of worry from me.

Who am I kidding?  I cried out loudly and nearly threw myself at the
A.D.

His arms locked into place behind my back, and held me firmly against
him.  I knew just how close I was because my face was suddenly pressed
right up against his chest--so near I could feel the calm, steady
beating of his heart.

"We'll be fine, Carolyn," he murmured against the top of my head. 
"They're probably trying to restore the back-up power to get us out."

I nodded as well as I was able to nod, without moving a smidgen away
from the warmth of his arms.

Hours passed, or perhaps it was only a few seconds, but my mind wasn't
exactly functioning adequately.  Half of me was scared to death, while
the other half of me luxuriated in the nearness of the man I'd only
dreamed of being this close to.

The elevator didn't lurch again, but the A.D. kept me pinned against
him.  Secure in his arms, I let myself breathe deeply...  I could
smell the crisp starch of his white shirt, mixed with a fading scent
of aftershave, and another alluring smell, which was pure male.  It
made my knees quiver, and my hand shake slightly, as I gripped his
arm.  I began to imagine sliding my fingers up his arm, feeling the
rock hardness of muscle under my probing touch...

"So, tell me about yourself, Carolyn," he said, softly.  In the voice
of a man who really wants to know.

I blinked.  About five times, actually, glad that the darkness didn't
allow him to see my stunned expression.  Did he really want to know
about me, or was he just making polite stuck-in-an-elevator
conversation?

I desperately wanted to believe he might be interested.  Even a
little.  Somehow that gave me courage, and I took another deep breath
and was about to answer...

When the lights came back on and the elevator doors opened abruptly. 
And I looked up from my cozy cocoon against the A.D.'s warm chest, and
saw four pairs of eyes staring at us.  Hubert was there, and Kimberly,
as well as Special Agents Fox Mulder and Dana Scully.

Before I knew what was happening, Kimberly was speaking to the A.D.,
urgently ushering him off the elevator, while Mulder and Scully began
to tell him about some important happening.

I was left standing alone, and feeling foolish, when Hubert grabbed my
arm and pulled me off the elevator.  "Come on, you still have time to
get that report to the Director.  I'll ride with you the senator's
place.  I have extra bus tickets you can borrow."

I blinked, fighting back a stupid urge to cry.  What had just
happened?  Had I only imagined the sudden close feeling between us in
that elevator?  Had the A.D. only held me close and soothed away my
worries so I wouldn't panic?

I stood in front of the elevator, as Hubert went back in to retrieve
the report which had fallen to the floor.

I looked ahead down the hall at the four hastily retreating figures. 
Something made me watch until they were a good distance away, just
approaching the first set of security doors.

A.D. Skinner opened the door, and held it open until the other three
had walked through.  Then, for just a brief second, he looked back.

I couldn't see his face clearly, but I felt his eyes on me. It hadn't
been my imagination.  And it hadn't been a daydream, either.

I smiled to myself as I looked back at Hubert, and said,  "Come on,
let's take the stairs."

***

Watch for Part 4 of Carolyn's adventures with A.D. Skinner at the
Annual FBI Staff Christmas Party--coming later this year.

***