From: Rhiannon_Scully@worldspy.net Date: Fri, 30 Jun 2000 20:30:11 -0000 Subject: xfc: NEW: "Something In The Way She Moves" by Rhiannon (AKA Angst) Source: xfc TITLE: Something in the Way She Moves AUTHOR: Rhiannon (a.k.a. Angst) RATING: G (holy cow! Me, write a G story?? Say it ain't so) SPOILERS: none AUTHOR'S NOTES: I was considering my nomme du plum (spelling?) And thought I should perhaps reconsider using my regular name. I chose the name Angst for X-Files fan fic during the Scully cancer arch and I was losing a dear friend to the horrible disease, so at the time, Angst made a lot of sense. I hope this doesn't confuse anybody. That is to say, if anyone was even paying attention. :-) ARCHIVING: Anyone who wants it may post it, please just let me know where so I can visit. FEEDBACK: I always enjoy feedback. I read it all and reply to it all. DISCLAIMER: Don't own `em. Ain't earning nothin' from `em. *sigh* The words between the ** is from the song of the same title sung by the wonderful James Taylor. No copyright infringement meant to him either. CATEGORY: MSR, Skinner angst KEYWORDS: Mulder/Scully romance, Skinner POV SUMMARY: Skinner observes Scully from afar, and moves from seeing her from his own eyes to seeing her through Mulder's. "Something in the Way She Moves" by Rhiannon Angst **There's something in the way she moves that looks my way or calls my name. That seems to leave this troubled world behind. If I'm feeling down and blue or troubled by some foolish game she always seems to make me change my mind.** APRIL 15, 2000 MARRIOT HOTEL, RECEPTION ROOM 8:15PM I feel a little strange standing here by myself. My eyes scan the length of the room in first one direction, and then back again. More than half of the people I don't know. The rest are, for the most part, FBI employees of various positions, but I am standing out like a sore thumb. Not because I look any different than any other attendees, but because of all the guests here from the Bureau, I have the highest position. Higher than that of the groom, who invited me to his wedding. I'm frankly surprised I'm here. I take a swig at my beer and wipe the foam from my upper lip with the back of my sleeve without thinking. Maybe I shouldn't be so surprised. Before I got promoted to Assistant Director, I worked on some cases with Agent Peter Harris. We were not really partners, but we did become friends. Sharon and I used to go out to dinner with him and his first wife Nancy. Nancy died three years ago of lung cancer. Without meaning to let them, my thoughts drift to Sharon. I shake my head sadly to myself and let the thoughts go. It was the past. Peter had moved on. I needed to as well. I decide to initiate conversation with a friendly face when I notice Agent Mulder enter the reception hall. I contemplate going over to him to say my hello's but he immediately found a small group of fellow agents whom he knew and was soon engaged in conversation. I hang back and wait. . . .God I hate these sort of things. I should have brought a date. That thought brings the slightest chuckle from my belly. A date? Who? When do I ever venture out of the Hoover building while it is still light out? Where do I go to even meet anyone new? A slight movement in my peripheral vision causes me to turn. My heart leaps when I see her. I'm still not sure what it is about her that causes me to be so suddenly aware of her presence. I would say her beauty, but that she is beautiful is a given. She is beautiful. A very classical kind of beauty that has mesmerized me since the first day she sat across from me, staring me confidently down as we sat on opposite sides of my desk. I watch her and time seems to slow down. She runs her small, deceptively delicate hand through her short red hair and scans the room with eyes of crystal blue. Eyes that can cut right to the heart of any man. I glance over at Mulder to see if he noticed her yet. He doesn't seem to be aware, but then he suddenly stops talking, and turns his head to her. He excuses himself from the others and goes to her. She's a flame, I think. She's a flame and he's the moth. . .What does that make me, I wonder? The moth trapped behind the screen? The moth that can see the flame but can't get near it? Maybe that's just as well, because flames can burn, and I can only imagine the kind of searing heat she is able to emanate. I swallow hard and swig some more ale as my throat goes suddenly dry. I look around the room again, and I realize that my eyes are not the only eyes that stare at Scully from afar. Many men. . .Hell, even some of the WOMEN are sneaking glances at her. Some are even openly gawking. Not that I can blame them. She is looking particularly drop dead gorgeous this evening in her low-cut, spaghetti strap, black evening dress that moves with her body like a fabric caress. I bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from letting my thoughts progress because I'm afraid that anyone who looks my way may be able to read my feelings simply by looking into my eyes. Mulder leads Scully to their table, his hand placed on her lower back, something I've noticed him doing many times before. In a way it could be considered their signature touch. They sit for only a moment when a slow song begins and he asks her to dance. I'm surprised with myself when I feel a little elated when I see her refuse him with a quick shake of her head. But he's persistent, and soon she is on the dance floor in his arms as they slowly rock to the crooning rhythm of a love song I've heard many times before, but never had the opportunity to dance to. That thought suddenly strikes me as sad as I continue to watch them move together as one, and I wonder just what it is that I want. Do I want the smart, powerful woman that she is? Do I want her because she's beautiful? Or do I just want somebody? And do I really think that asking myself all these questions is really going to give me any answers? I place my empty glass on the bar with a huff and am about to walk away when I hear a voice next to me. "She is quite a beautiful woman, isn't she?" I look to my right and see Peter Harris standing next to me, leaning back against the bar, arms crossed, considering Scully with a very astute eye. I smile slightly and shake his hand. It was my first chance to do so since the bride and groom were announced earlier. "You better not let your new wife hear you saying things like that about another woman." Peter shrugs innocently. "I'm married. I'm not blind. Look but don't touch. And never, ever compare what you see to your wife. . .TOO your wife, that is." I laugh a little at that. "You're terrible, you know that?" We both fall silent and watch them dance. Mulder is holding her close and her dress slides and sways, hugging the curves of her body that makes me immediately thing of seeing those curves as they might look as they move beneath the sheets. Peter, seemingly on the same wavelength, lets out a low whistle. "Man, oh man. . ." he breaths quietly. He turns to me and pats my shoulder. "Welp, I better move on. Jane doesn't mind me looking, but she would certainly mind me gawking." With that I was alone again, and with being along always comes the thinking. The dreaded thinking. So Peter didn't even know Scully, and he was taken by her in the typical "man lusts after woman" kind of way, and for some reason, that disturbs me. Scully is more than just an attractive woman with a killer body. She is an intelligent woman with a determination about her that could make many a man shrink in fear and retreat to their corners. She is a magnanimous presence that unintentionally makes people stand up and notice. She commands attention without asking for it. She makes some women jealous and many men fall at her feet. The late Agent Pendrell comes to mind. When she is on your side, it can make you feel like there is nothing in the world you can't do. Watch me fly, folks, Dana Scully's got my back. I guess that's what Mulder feels. It's no wonder he can carry on like he does. She's his strength, and I don't think he even knows it. . .Maybe he does. . . At any rate, he SHOULD. The song ends and she whispers something in his ear and then parts from him. As she walks away, he holds her hand until the last minute, losing contact with her outstretched arm, fingertips brushing against fingertips. Then I see his eyes and how they look at her as she walks away and I know. I know just what she means to him, and what he means to her and that he sees her entirely, not just her surface, and suddenly I want to knock in the heads of all those men who were still gawking at her, even though Mulder and Scully don't seem to notice the others at all. Back off! My mind screams at those men. I love her, I realize, with only mild surprise. What surprises me more is the way I staunchly want to protect the relationship she has with Mulder. I never really thought of myself as someone who is so selfless, but here I am wanting to protect them both because I both love her intensely and care a great deal for Mulder. When the hell did that happen?! There's something about her. . .There's something about them. . .Together. . It's almost. . . Well, religious. Powerful. More powerful than I think even they realize. I know they love each other. To what physical level that love has taken them I couldn't say with complete assurance, but I try to keep my mind from traveling that road. I slowly become aware that I am still staring at the doors through which Scully disappeared moments before. I then become strangely aware that someone is staring at me. I find his eyes immediately, and as soon as we make eye contact, Mulder walks over to me. Neither of us speak as he leans back against the bar as I am doing and together we stand. When Scully reenters the room we both admire her, and I toss my boldness up to the fact that I had consumed two tall glasses of beer. Mulder finally speaks and says, "There is something about her. Isn't there." I smile. She spots us, waves and begins to slowly make her way to the bar. "There is definitely something in the way she moves," I say. I half expect Mulder to take affront to my remark, but he just sighs contentedly and replies, "There certainly is." ********* There's something in the way she moves that looks my way or calls my name. That seems to leave this troubled world behind. If I'm feeling down and blue or troubled by some foolish game she always seems to make me change my mind. And I feel fine any time she's around me now. She's around me now almost all the time. And if I'm well you can tell that she's been with me now. She's been with me now quite a long, long time and I feel fine. Every now and then the things I lean on loose their meaning and I find myself careening in places where I should not let me go. She has the power to go where no one else can find me. Yes, and silently remind me of the happiness and the good times that I know. But I said I just got to know them. It isn't what she's got to say but how she thinks of where she's been. To me the words are nice the way they sound. I like to hear them best that way. It doesn't much matter what they mean. Well she says them mostly just to calm me down. And I feel fine anytime she's around me now. She's around me now almost all the time. And if I'm well you can tell that she's been with me now. She's been with me now quite a long, long time. Yes, and I feel fine. -James Taylor