From: Cookie8302@aol.com
Date: 13 Feb 2004 09:51:42 -0800
Subject: xfc: Until the Dawn Broke
Source: atxc

Title: Until the Dawn Broke
Author: Kristen
E-mail Cookie8302@aol.com
Keywords: Skinner/Scully
Disclaimer: I don't own them. In this universe, Mulder came back, stayed at 
the bureau. There was no William and the X-file never ended.
Summary: Skinner needs comfort after his mother's funeral. 

Notes: This story is dedicated to those in my life who have passed on
in the past years, namely my grandfather, Ray, my uncle Walter, and my
grandma Mary who has most recently joined the angels among us.

Until the Dawn Broke

Dana Scully wouldn't have known why her boss was conspicuously absent
from his work if she hadn't happened to read the obituary section of
the Washington Post one Tuesday morning. She was sometimes of the
habit of reading the obits to see if any of her father's old Navy
buddies from the area had passed on as a number of them had attended
his wake service before the private funeral they had for him.

As she scanned the names for the people she knew, Clark, Donaldson,
O'Grady, Peters...her eyes fell on a name that was familiar but not
for the reason she'd thought it would be, but there it was in black
newspaper type, Majorie Skinner, 71.

Skinner. No, it couldn't be. Skinner was a popular name, God knows how
many of them their were in the city, yet Dana felt compelled to read
on.

Majorie S. Skinner (nee Dudziak), 71 on Sunday February8 in her home.  
Beloved wife of the late Stanislaw P. Skinner, cherished sister of
Rita Dudziak Kuklinski, Emma Dudziak Terraciano, and the late Paul,
Piotr, and Andrew Dudziak.  Dear mother of Walter S. Skinner, Sergei
S. Skinner, Josphine Myers, and the late Amelia Russo. She is also
survived by six grandchildren. Funeral service will be held Wednesday
at Our Lady of Mercy, Washington D.C. Family and friend may call at
Dzidjinski and Son Funeral Home on Tuesday, February 7, 2-4 & 7-9.

Dana glanced at her watch. 3:30. There was no way that she'd be able
to make it over to Dzidjinski's before 4 o'clock. She'd have to go
over tonight and pay her respects. Just then the sound of the door
opening pulled her attention.

"Hey, Scully, anything good in the paper today?" Mulder asked, through
a mouth full of onion and garlic potatoe chips.

"Nothing to earthshattering Mulder, but I think you better stop eating
those chips," she told him, placing the paper down on the desk, "We
have a wake to go to."

"Ah, Scully," he whined "I hate those things."

"Too bad, Mulder, I'm going and so are you," she practically ordered
him.

"Is it one of your people, Scully. If it is I'll most certainly want
to be there for you, but I don't do wakes," Mulder told her.

"No, it's none of my people, Mulder. It's Skinner's mother."

"Skinnerhas a mother?" Mulder said in mock shock.

"Don't be cute, Mulder, it doesn't suit you. She passed away Sunday. I
just saw it in the paper. If I'd known I would have sent flowers
or..."

Mulder sighed, "Baken a bundt cake? Honestly, Scully, I thought this
thing with you and Skinner was..." Mulder made a slashing motion in
the air.

"What thing with me and Skinner?" Scully asked obviously confused.

"Well, there were always rumors that you and he, you know, after I did
my resurrection thing..."

"Mulder," Scully glared at him, hands on her hips, "sometimes you can
be very, very rude. Skinner was a friend to me, a good friend, I owe
him that in return."

Mulder walked over to her and put a hand on her shoulder, "I know you
do, Scully and I'm sorry, but that is what people have said, you
know?"

"I know. And those people have nothing better to do than to speculate
about people's lives and spread rumors that are untrue, unfounded and
quite frankly completely ridiculous. Now, I have to go and change for
tonight. Are you sure you don't want to come?"

"Oh, yeah, I don't go to wakes unless I"m in the coffin," he smirked
and watched as she hastily brushed him off and walked out the door.
When Scully was safely out of earshot, Mulder chuckled to himself,
"She doth protest too much."

Scully drove home quickly and got out her good black suit from the
closet.  She hung it against the window in the bathroom so it could
steam while she showered. She couldnt' believe that Wal...Skinner
hadn't told her that his mother had died. He'd been such a good friend
to her during the situation with Mulder and she had wanted to be that
for him.

Scully wasn't sure where that particular funeral home was so she set
out early to make sure she arrived in time. It was just past seven
when she pulled into the parking lot.

Scully saw Skinner's car was all ready parked in the parking lot
behind the funeral home. A number of other cars were parked their as
well, but none of them save for Skinner's had a bureau sticker on the
rear window. Scully briefly wondered if she should be attending the
wake because no one else from the bureau had shown up to pay their
respects. Skinner had not told anyone, he had no wanted anyone to be
told, yet she felt compelled to pay her respects to his family and to
offer him as much comfort as it was possible for her to offer him.

Scully decided to give the family a few moments alone and then she
would go inside. When she did, she found the funeral home lovely, a
calming sensible decor in the entraceway and several nicely decorated
chapels off to each side of the main hall. She checked the sign on the
wall and found that to wakes were going on in here tonight, and she
turned to her right, the direction in which the arrow under Mrs.
Skinner's name indicated.

Scully walked into the chapel, her eyes searching for Skinner, but she
didn't find him. She went up to the gorgeous walnut colored casket,
knelt on the kneeler, and said a prayer for Mrs Skinner's soul.

A tall woman who clearly shared blood ties with Skinner and his
mother, stood off to one side and calmly greeted those who had come to
pay their last respects. When it was Dana's turn to speak to her, she
smiled warmly and shook the tall woman's hand, "I'm Dana Scully, I
work with Walter. I'm sorry about your Mom."

"Oh, um," the woman paused, "I didn't know he told anyone he worked
with. I mean no one else..."

"He didn't tell me, Ma'am. I read about it in the Post and wanted to
pay my respects," Scully replied, "Where is Walter? I don't see him."

"Um, Sergei," the woman asked, "Where's Walter?"

"I think he's downstairs in the smoking lounge," the man answered.

"Thank you," Scully said turning, "I'm sorry again about your Mom."

Scully walked downstairs and saw Skinner there. He was sitting in a
big armchair, tie loosened, elbows on knees, a lit cigarete dangling
between his fingers. He did not look up when Scully entered until she
spoke to him, "When did you start smoking?" she gently asked.

"I don't know," he murmured, looking b ack down at the floor.

"That's kind of a silly thing to do, isn't it?" Scully asked, gently
approaching him.

"Yeah, well, I'm a silly guy, I guess," Skinner attemped to joke, but
it fell short as he put the cigarette out, "What are you doing here?"

"I read about it in the paper. I wanted to pay my respects, see if
there was anything you needed..." Scully said sitting on the couch
near him, placed her hand on his arm.

Skinner pulled his arm away, "No," he said, rather coldly. "There's
nothing you could do. That's why I didn't tell anyone."

Scully didn't say anything to that, "How old was she?" she asked
trying to draw him out. She knew very well that Skinner was a very
guarded being and also a very emotional one. Some thought he wa cold
and unfeeling but Scully knew his aloof ness was a way of guarding a
sensative heart. Skinner did feel, he did hurt, but he hit it under a
strong stoic exterior.

"Seventy-one," he replied.

"Do you know what happened? Had she been sick?" Scully asked.

"Not really. She'd had a cold, and went to bed early on Saturday
night.  Sunday morning she didn't wake up," Skinner told her, his
voice dropping to a whisper at the end of his piece.

"Sometimes that is the best way," Scully told him, "Quick. Peaceful."

"Yeah," Skinner nodded, "tough on us though. You end up thinking about
everything you didn't do that you should have done."

"You alway do that," Scully said knowingly, "and you always say what
if, and you always say or think, at least, you could have done
something to change what happened. But in reality, you didn't say it,
you can't do that,and you couldn't change it.

"Eventually, you accept it, you deal with it, and y ou get on with
your life. You never get over it, but you get on with your life."

"It's one thing, Dana, when you lose someone and you believe you could
have changed it. It's another when you know you could have, should
have, and didn't," Skinner said rising from his position.

"Sir...Walter," she switched to a more familiar form of address, "what
do you think you could have done differently?" She knew as long as he
believed there was something, he'd not let up on himself.

"Maybe...she was at my house. Maybe I could have called her doctor
about the cold, or checked on her more during the night. If I'd gotten
there, maybe I could have called an ambulance." Skinner was pacing
madly now continually massaging his neck with one hand.

"Walter, you can't do that to yourself, okay?" Scully aid rising and
standing in front of him to halt his pacing. When he lowered his arm,
she took both of his hands in hers, "What happened has happened. There
was nothing you could do to change it. Your Mom was old, she passed
away. It's not your fault."

Skinner tensed but did not remove his hand from her grip. Scully
looked up and studied his face, which was a pool of emotions. She saw
guilt, she saw anguish, and she saw grief.

Scully had experienced grief, anguish, and guilt. She had experienced
them many times separately and jointly. She had experienced them after
her father's death, after her sister's and most recently after
Mulder's. And Skinner had been there in some way to see her through
them all.

With her father he's sent a card, but a lovely card. After Melissa he
came to her wake and sent flowers and after Mulder's he'd been her
rock, her constant. When she cracked, he was steady, reminding her how
she owed it to Mulder to move on, to hang on, and to keep looking. She
had to grieve for him and mourn him, but she had to move on from him.
Now, he needed her. It was evident on his face that he needed her, but
he would never admit it out loud.

"They blame me," he admitted after a few minutes, his voice huskier
and deeper than usual and Scully could tellhe was near his breaking
point.

Silently she shook her head, "No, they don't," she tried to assure
him, "They may say so now when they are hurting, but they don't. Not
really."

"Maybe, but..." Skinner finally pulled his hands free from her, "we're
all alike. We'll never...I better get back."

Scully followed Skinner upstairs watching his stoic composure. It
would crack she knew, and when it did, God help the person that was
around him, for he'd be unable to control his emotions on any scale.
She knew, she'd been there..

Before she left for the night, Scully again said a quick prayer at
Mrs.  Skinner's casket and then offered her condolences to the famiily
again. She reached up and took Skinner in her arms before leaving and
help him close to her, "If you need anything," she told him and meant
it, "I'm here."

Skinner did not respond, save for a squeeze and a nod.

Scully couldn't sleep that night, her mind was busily reviewing the
events of the evening. Skinner's cigarette smoking, poor attempts at
humor, and finally his admission that his siblings blamed him for
their mother's death. It was unfounded, but she could see it in their
mannerisms when they were around him.

Skinner needed to cry. He needed to let go of all the emotions that
she held inside, but Scully knew there was no way he would
ever...KNOCK! KNOCK!  KNOCK!

"Who could that be?" Scully wondered, Mulder didn't make these late
night calls anymore, so who?

Scully pulled on her robe and went to the door. On tiptoes she gazed
through the peephole and saw Skinner standing in her hallway.

Hurriedly, Scully opened the door to admit him, "Sir?" she asked as
she gently pulled on his suit coat sleeve, "Where's your coat?"

Skinner didnt' answer her, he just numbly stepped inside.

Scully grabbed a heavy blanket and put it around Skinner's shoulders,
leading him to sit down on her sofa.

"Sir?" Scully presesed, "It's all right." She knelt in front of him
and took his hands.

"You don't...she told me she was proud of me. The night she died. I'd
never heard her tell anyone she was proud of me before. I always
thought..."

"Of course she was," Scully comforted, "Why wouldn't she be?"

"But...I never got to tell her, I have let her know..." Walter's voice
craacked an dhe put his face on top of her hand which still held his,
his shoulders shaking.

"She knew," Scully soothed, "She knew."

"She was always the only one who cared the least bit about me. The
others, I was a stupid, stubborn vet...But Mama was there for me. She
was there after Nam, after Sharon, always there. Now there's no one,
there's no one there."

Scully held him close to her and caressed his back, "You're wrong,
Darling.  I'm here," she told him, "I'm here."

Scully wasn't sure how the endearment left her lips but it did and
Skinner looked up at her in shock.

"Really?" he asked, trying to recover his natural stoic expression.

"Really," she answered gently, rubbing the hair at the back of him
neck with her hands.

With that last word, Skinner pulled a willing Scully onto his lap, and
rested his head against her breast. For the rest of the night, they
sat like that, holding each other, one comforting the other, until the
dawn broke.