-----------------------
Deslea R. Judd can now be reached at deslea@deslea.com and her fic at
http://fiction.deslea.com.  This information replaces all information found
elsewhere in this file.
-----------------------

Date sent:        Thu, 13 Nov 1997 18:34:07 +1100 (EST)
From:             salian@magna.com.au
Subject:          Someone I Trusted *R*  1/1


Hi,
I'm posting this for a friend.  Please direct all comments to her.  
Thanks.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Someone I Trusted *R*  1/1
Deslea R. Judd
drjudd@rainbow.net.au

DISCLAIMER

This work is based on The X Files, a creation of Chris Carter owned by him,
Twentieth Century Fox, and Ten-Thirteen Productions. All characters
mentioned remain the intellectual property of those parties and are used
without their consent and without commercial gain.

Spoilers: Blessing Way.

Category:  Vignette,  Romance-ish (ie erotica) (Scully/Skinner). 

Rating:  R for sex and a couple of naughty words.  Some possibly disturbing
imagery of eroticism and guns.

Summary:  When Scully pulls a gun on Skinner, trust becomes something fluid.
Alternate scene within Blessing Way (the Reservoir Dogs-esque scene with
Scully and Skinner holding guns on one another).

A little note:  The whole idea of this vignette is that Scully has, under
the stress of continual threats to her life, completely lost it and thrown
caution to the wind.  Don't you do the same.  AIDS ain't likely to hit a
fictional character whose existence is tied to a million dollar contract,
but real people aren't so lucky.

Fan mail is always appreciated!!!  My e-mail is drjudd@rainbow.net.au.
Archivists, feel free to add this to your collections; but be sure to let me
know.  This and my other stories may be found at
http://www.rainbow.net.au/~drjudd (shameless plug).

 Someone I Trusted  *R* 1/1
Deslea R. Judd
drjudd@rainbow.net.au
Copyright 1997

	Scully pulled out her keys and turned one over, revealing a label.  Mulder,
Skinner noted over her shoulder, wondering not for the first time if they
were having an affair.  Calmly, she unlocked the door to Mulder's apartment
and opened it.  "After you," she said tightly.
	I don't have a good feeling about this, he thought, but he complied
nonetheless.  He trusted her - didn't he?
	He heard the click of a safety catch being flicked off, and froze.  "Eyes
forward.  Put your hands where I can see them," she said cooly.  "Don't turn
around or I'll blow your head off."  There was a sound, and the light
flicked on.  "Don't think I won't do it, you son of a bitch."
	Even as he assessed the situation at lightning speed, Skinner did as he was
told.  "No, I believe you.  Stay cool, I'm with you."  He had never been so
frightened in his life.  He knew she had to believe she was in danger from
him to pull such a stunt.  Indeed, he could sense her terror - would have
sensed it in the car if he hadn't been so busy inhaling her scent.  That
terror made her dangerous - very dangerous.  There was something else, too:
Never before had he had an enemy who he considered his equal.  He shivered
involuntarily.
	"Take two steps forward."
	Skinner complied.
	Scully stepped forward, shutting the door behind them.  He felt her brush
against him, and tensed, swallowing hard.  He was suddenly, agonisingly
aware of a battle of wills between two equally primal instincts:  survival,
and - and -
	Dear God, he was turned on.
	Her proximity, the danger, her assertiveness, the fact that she held his
life in her hands all combined to create a kernel of desire even in his
terror - that, and the fact that he thought, had always thought, she was the
most stunning woman on earth.  He rolled his eyes, mentally chastising the
tightening in his groin for its timing, and vaguely registered her telling
him to go to the couch.  He obeyed, his breath coming in short gasps.
	Scully turned on the light behind him.  His brow furrowed at the sight of
the x taped to the window.  That meant Mulder was still tied out with that
informant of his...that worried him.
	Scully's voice came from behind him.  "Now turn around slowly and sit on
your hands."
	Skinner complied, watching her warily.   She threw down her bag and passed
him, her shadow passing over him.  She faced him.
	He spoke.  "Are you going to let me tell you why I'm here?"
	Her voice was cold.  "I know why you're here.  I want to know who sent
you...whose errand boy you are."  She spoke contemptuously, and Skinner
flushed, suddenly affronted, the same way he had been when she threw that
cheap crack about him overestimating the extent of his command.
	But now defending himself wasn't about asserting his role in the chain of
command.  It was about survival.
	"No-one sent me," he said simply.
	There was a flicker of movement in her throat and her eyes and the lines of
her jaw.  She wanted to believe, he could see that.  She slowly sat down in
the chair in front of him.  And then she spoke, her voice cold once more.
"You've got the rest of your life to give me answers."
	Skinner stared at her, paralysed momentarily by fear and indecision.  She
was so damn scared she probably wouldn't believe him anyway.  He had to find
a way to get out his weapon, to get away, anything...and the first step in
that would have to be banishing all consciousness of the tightening in his
groin.  Because he could sit there and allow the painful pleasure of it to
cushion him from the fear, to comfort him and make him feel giddy and
safe...and if he did that, if he allowed himself to be diverted from the
business of survival, he would die.
	Scully suddenly noticed the bulge in his pants, and smiled to herself.
Typical male, she thought with a shadow of contempt.  Imagine getting off on-
	She stopped mid-thought, suddenly identifying the frission that had passed
through her as she had pulled the gun on her boss.  She grimaced.  For
heaven's sake, what was she thinking?  Just when she most needed to keep her
head, too.  But...Oh, what the hell.  I'll probably be dead within the
week...I deserve a little fun.  She rose.
	"You enjoying this, Skinner?" she demanded, a faint curl at the corners of
her mouth.  She stood before him, bent one stocking-encased leg and rested
it between his legs, her knee just nudging his groin.  He stared at her in
stunned confusion.
	Her voice grew deeper, breathier.  "Are you afraid of me, Skinner?" she
asked piercingly.  
	Warily, he nodded.  
	Lower still, she breathed, "Do you want me?," rubbing her knee against his
erection in tight little circles.
	Reluctantly, he moaned, arching his neck.  "Oh, God," he breathed.  "God
help me, yes."
	Still holding the gun, she deliberately opened her jacket and unbuttoned
her blouse with one hand.  It fell open, revealing an ice blue satin bra.
"Open it," she dared.  She swung the gun slightly off target, just enough to
let him know she wouldn't force him.  Self defence was one thing, but Scully
wasn't about to rape a man she respected.
	Horrified, terrified, tantalised; he stared into her eyes, unable to
decipher her motives.  He raised his hands almost absent-mindedly and
unfastened the hook in the cleft between her breasts, the tips of his
fingers warm against the cool skin.  Too cool.  He realised she was as
terrified of him as he was of her.  
	And yet she let him do this to her, when he could so easily snap her neck
in a single movement...why?  
	His fingers brushed against her left breast, then cupped it in his hand,
wanting to warm her as he caressed her.  She smiled faintly as he ran his
other hand down over her stomach, then up her side to her neck.  He held it
there, loosely around her throat for a long moment.  She drew in her breath
inaudibly, but he continued to her chin, and grazed her jawline, cupping her
cheek in his hand with sudden tenderness.  She wiped away a trickle of
perspiration from his temple, acknowledging his fear with a sympathetic
little smile without attempting to assauge it.  She leaned forward, her
breasts over his face.  Almost against his will, he leaned up and took one
in his mouth, the flesh warm and soft.  He almost forgot the danger,
although there was a part of his mind that reminded him with feverish
glee/terror that she could kill him at any moment.
	He became aware of her hand between his legs, unzipping him, her fingers
slipping into his briefs and closing around his rock-hard cock.  The gun was
still aimed at him, her arm wide so that he couldn't get it.  She knew just
what she was doing, the feverish voice said.  His back stiffened as she
began to slowly pull and stroke him. He closed his eyes.   "Oh," he moaned,
wondering if he was going insane.  She could kill him, she had a gun, and he
was trusting her to touch him at his most vulnerable - was he out of his
mind? the rapidly diminishing rational part of him screamed even as he
reached forward between her legs.
	He suddenly had a mental image, as though he were viewing them from
outside.  He imagined her standing in front of him, leaning forward with her
breast in his mouth, stroking him with one hand, her gun in the other, her
short skirt hiked up around her thighs as he stroked her through the wet
satin that he just knew was ice blue like her bra, looking for all the world
like some law enforcement-world dominatrix.  Alongside this image was one
that he had long cherished, of mounting her on top of his desk at the
Bureau.  The irony of the tables turned, her dominating him as he had often
imagined doing to her...it petrified him and aroused him in turn.  
	He could feel his cock throbbing between her palms.  His fingers were
shaking, and it was all he could do not to rip her panties and plunge them
into her warm depths, or increase their speed and make her cry out with
desire.  But he wouldn't give her that satisfaction...not yet.  Instead, he
traced the outline of her labia through the satin (ice blue satin, ice blue
satin, the feverish voice chanted, and he wished he could smack it in the
mouth) with a light brushing touch, then parted her lips, the fabric still
stretched over them.  He heard her give a ragged gasp and she drew away
involuntarily, then pressed down against his fingers once more.  He smiled
approvingly to himself.  He pressed his fingers through the wet satin into
her flesh, finding her hardened clitoris by touch, and rotating it with his
fingertip with excruciating slowness.  He kissed her between her breasts,
reaching around with his free hand and slipping it into her panties,
caressing her firm round buttocks with a fleeting image of entering her from
behind.
	Scully was shivering with suppressed desire.  She couldn't let go as she
desperately wanted...it was too dangerous.  But...oh, his hands...they
roamed her body, her breasts, her stomach, her hips, her ass, her most
secret places, possessing her...for all the times she had thought of this -
of him - she had never dreamed he could do this to her, could make her so
hot and wet deep inside, could make her want him like she'd never wanted
anyone in her life.  She shuddered in sudden climax, then came back as hot
and hard and fast as she had been before it, wanting more, taking more.
	Even in her own conflict, her own fear, her mouth twitched with amusement
at the conflict she could sense behind those closed eyes.  For her part, she
was incredibly turned on - had been since the moment she'd cocked her gun
(no pun intended, her mind punctuated).  Holding a gun on her boss, and a
damn good-looking boss at that, had set the scene for this.  His erection
had galvinised her into action.  She had planned to tease him, nothing more;
but his unwilling excitement at her minstrations even as she trained the gun
on him made her feel warm and moist inside, made her part her legs
involuntarily long before he reached between them.  That was when she had
passed (to her) the point of no return, and unzipped him.  Crazily, the twin
hardness of his cock in one hand and her gun in the other aroused an image
of her doing this to Mulder and Skinner simultaneously.
	Mulder.
	The grief rose within her thick and fast, and she suppressed it.  Suddenly
hungry for human warmth, anything to assauge her pain, she hiked up her
skirt and pulled his hands away from between her legs.  Ripping her panties
aside, she straddled him.  His hands flew automatically to her hips, and she
lowered herself onto his cock, engulfing him with a single movement.  He
could feel her warm muscles closing and tighening around him and the
tattered remains of wet satin at the base of his cock, could feel the
slippery fabric rubbing against his balls as he pushed himself into her.
	I should have used a condom.
	How?  If I'd gone to get one from my bag, assuming it's not past its expiry
date, he'd have gotten his gun and killed me.  Fat lot of good safe sex
would do me then.
	What are you, Scully?  Suicidal?
	Banishing these thoughts, which for all their logic seemed ridiculous given
she had a life expectancy of maybe age 35, assuming she survived the week,
Scully returned her attention to the man beneath her.  She rotated her hips,
moving his cock around and around in little circles with her body, pushing
down hard on him, sheathing him to the hilt.  She could feel the throbbing
inside her, the clenching as she tried to make herself even more aware of
that thick presence that filled her.  He leaned forward and buried his face
in her breasts, felt her bring one arm around his shoulders in what seemed
like a warm gesture.  He arched his back, pushing even deeper into her as he
felt his orgasm approach.  She was grinding down on him in a frenzy, her
breathing ragged and gasping as she built towards her own crushing climax.
She felt the slight constriction of his cock as he reared back and filled
her, and she clenched him, milking him.  Seconds later, she came, spasms
racking her body as she slumped on top of him with a cry of release.
	They stayed like that for a long moment, and then Skinner kissed her neck
with sudden tenderness.  She brought a hand around and lazily played with
the short hair at the back of his head.  She still trained the gun on him,
but without conviction.  But when she felt him fade away inside her, she
lifted herself off him, and that was when she became conscious of her
vulnerability.  She stepped away and tightened her hold on the gun,
straightening her skirt with her free hand.  Skinner looked at her,
saddened.  Had he dared hope this meant she believed him?  No.  But...he'd
wished it.  He averted his gaze and tucked himself back into his trousers,
her scent still drifting into his nostrils.
	She attempted to fasten her bra with one hand, then discarded the plan as
too difficult.  She buttoned her blouse over her naked breasts.  He could
feel himself growing hard again at the sight of her nipples poking through
the soft cotton.  Down, boy; I think that's it for today, he told himself.
"How high does it go, Skinner?" she asked softly, buttoning her jacket.
"Who's pulling the strings?"
	"You can kill me, Scully, but you'll only be doing their work for them.
Forget about your job, family; you'll spend the rest of your life behind
bars.  There isn't a Federal judge they couldn't persuade."  Skinner's voice
was soft, persuasive.
	Scully's lips parted slightly.  She breathed out shakily.  "What's the
alternative?  Let you kill me now?"
	"I didn't come here to kill you.  I came here to give you something."
	She regarded him with suspicion.  Just then, she felt moisture - his
moisture - between her thighs.  "Yeah, you gave me something, all right,"
she retorted.
	Skinner glared at her with sudden fury.  Damn it, she was still wet for
him, still shuddering from him inside her.  Why were women so damn
changeable?  "I seem to recall that it was your idea, Scully."  He sighed,
collecting himself.  More calmly, he admitted, "I've got the digital tape." 
	"You're lying," she accused.
	"I've got it in my pocket.  I took it out of Mulder's desk."
	Scully's eyes widened.
	Suddenly, there were footsteps outside the apartment, and Scully glanced
away at the shadow beneath the door.  Seeing his chance, Skinner whipped out
his gun, leaping up.  Seeing him from the corner of her eye, she did the
same on reflex.  Aware of her mistake, Scully's gaze flew back to him in
horror.  Fuck it, why didn't I get it from him?  Too damn busy jerking him
off?  You stupid, stupid girl!  She held her gun with a lightning grip,
horrified.  They stood there for a long moment, stunned.  Then Skinner
shouted furiously, "What the fuck was that, Scully?  Were you jerking my
chain? Getting off on the power?  Or just fucking with my head before you
killed me in revenge for Mulder?" he spat.  He was hurt.  Had he enjoyed it?
Fuck yes.  But...it had been all wrong.  "Drop your weapon!  Put it down,
Scully."
	"No way," she said in a low, ragged voice.  He suddenly knew she was flying
on sheer adrenaline...the adrenaline of fear, the adrenaline of ardour.
That made her dangerous...more dangerous.
	"Put it down," he repeated warningly.
	"I said no!" she screamed.  "You're setting me up!"
	"I'm here to help you," he said through gritted teeth.
	"Then put your weapon down and sit down!" she demanded in fury.
	He looked at her with distrust.  "Not a chance," he spat.
	Dismayed and frightened, she shouted, "You said you weren't here to kill
me, Skinner; now prove it!"
	"I didn't come to have a gun shoved in my face, either."  Or to have you
fuck with my head along with my body, you bitch, he thought bitterly.  His
body still throbbed for her, and now it stung with the pain of betrayal.
	"Dammit, Skinner-"
	And then Mulder burst in.
	They both stared at him, thunderstruck.  "Drop your weapon!" he yelled at
Skinner.  
	"Back off," Skinner ordered.  He knew a no win situation when he saw one.
Authority was his only lever.
	Mulder was having none of it.  "I said drop it!"  Scully stared at him, her
eyes shining.  "Drop it!"
	"What is this?  What are you trying to pull?" Skinner demanded, never
taking his eyes from Mulder.
	Mulder ignored him.  "You okay Scully?"
	"Yeah," she said breathlessly.
	"Get his gun," he said.  Still staring at him, she held out her hand to
Skinner.  Skinner made no move to give it to her.  "Give it to her," Mulder
instructed.
	Skinner stared at Mulder mutinously.  "Give it to her!"
	Outnumbered, Skinner raised his hand in surrender and did as he was
instructed.  "All right."
	"Now I want an explanation," Mulder demanded.
	"I was warned someone would kill me," Scully said.  Then, more quietly,
"Someone I trusted."  She looked at Skinner, then averted her gaze.
	Skinner stared at her in realisation.  He had had it all wrong.  She had
had so much more to lose than him...her control, and possibly her life.  She
had been far more vulnerable than him...and yet she had done it.  That was
why she'd done it - because even in her fear, at some level she trusted him.
Oh, Scully, I'm sorry.  I misjudged you.  He looked away, ashamed.
	Suddenly aware that Mulder was watching them, he came to himself.  "I am
going to reach into my coat pocket and end this charade once and for all."
Mulder nodded slightly for him to go ahead.  He removed the data tape.  "I
presume you both know what this is?"
	Scully's eyes met his, aghast.  He really wasn't here to kill me, she
realised.  She breathed out, suddenly aware of an ache in her chest that had
been there since she had suspected him.  Had that been the real reason she
had given herself to him? she wondered.  Had it been a test?  Fuck it, who
knows.  It's over.
	Skinner looked back at Mulder.  "Now I want an explanation."
	Mulder snapped, "Your cigarette smoking friend killed my father for that
tape, and then he killed me."
	Skinner looked confused.  "What do you mean?"
	"I was a dead man," Mulder said, knowing his cryptic words were annoying
the fuck out of Skinner and enjoying it immensely.  "Now I'm back."
	Skinner raised an eyebrow but decided not to pursue this unpromising line
of enquiry.  "What is on this tape?"
	"Defence department files that weren't supposed to exist," Mulder charged.
"The truth about our government's involvement in a global conspiracy of
silence about the existence of extra terrestrial life."
	Scully spoke.  "Give me the tape."
	Skinner shook his head.  "Uh-uh, this tape stays with me."
	Mulder cocked his gun.  "Give her the tape."
	Skinner stood his ground.  "If what you say is true, then the information
on this tape is valuable enough to kill for.  And it's the only leverage
we've got to bring these men to justice."  He reasoned, "It's not going to
do us any good if it falls back into their hands."
	Mulder lowered his gun. "Then you'd better make sure it doesn't."  He
turned.  "Let's go, Scully."
	"Where?" she breathed, as if she cared.
	"There are truths out there that aren't on that tape."
	With that, Mulder walked out.  Scully followed him with her eyes for a
moment, then turned to Skinner.  She held out his gun.
	He met her gaze for a long moment, then took it.  "Scully?" he said
tentatively.  She raised an eyebrow in question.  "Do you trust me still?"
	She turned away and walked out.
	His shoulders slumped at her non-answer, which could only mean no, and he
looked down at his hands.  That was when he realised she had answered him
after all.
	She had turned her back on him as he held his gun.
	Smiling to himself, he switched off the light, and walked out.

THE END

Coming soon:  Two independent sequels:  Someone I Trusted II: The MSR File,
in which Mulder discovers what Scully has done in an alternate Paper Clip
scene; and Someone I Trusted II: The Skinner File, in which Scully and
Skinner reunite in the desert in an alternate Paper Clip scene.