Date: 10 Jul 2002 05:15:20 -0700
Subject: NEW: "Withdrawal of Life" by Philiater  NC-17
Source: atxc

Title: Withdrawal of Life
Author: Philiater
Feedback: philiater1@[nospam]yahoo.com   (Obviously,
leave the [nospam] part out.)
Category: Vignette, tinge of PWP.  Scully/Skinner.  And
sex. MSR angst.
Rating: NC-17 
Spoilers: Everything. Big ones for Biogenesis and
Roadrunners. Happens early in season 8. There's no
pregnancy in this world either.

withdrawal (with-draw'al) 
1. The act of removal or retreating. 2. A pattern of
behavior observed in schizophrenia and depression,
characterized by a pathological retreat from interpersonal
contact and social involvement and leading to self-
preoccupation. (Stedman's Medical Dictionary)

I hereby bestow a night of bliss with SPG for one of the
hardest working betas out there-The one and only Keleka. 
Yea!


Withdrawal of Life
by Philiater


I've lost my mind.   I know that's what they're thinking. 
I finally snapped from this latest violation of my psyche.
A part of me wishes they'd all go screw themselves.

A part of me knows they could be right.

I don't want to be sweet, or gentle or thoughtful.  I not
predisposed to logical thinking or long diatribes on the
scientific importance of what occurred.  I'm pissed.  I'm
so angry that I want to hurt someone. And this time I don't
want that someone to be me.

But of course it will be me that gets hurt.  I'm the one
who will suffer the pitying looks of those who know me, and
hate them and myself in the process. I'm the one who will
have to walk down the halls as if getting infested with a
killer slug is an everyday occurrence.  No big deal.
Happens all the time.

So I leave.  I got up in the middle of my meeting with
Skinner and Doggett and just walked out the door.  Doggett
followed of course, running next to me like a puppy and
asking what's wrong. So I lie.

I tell him I forgot something at home. Something important
to our meeting and to stall until I can get back. I lie
with a smoothness I never knew I had.  He hesitates for
only a moment, but smiles and swallows the bull I feed him.
I should feel badly, but I don't.

I do go home and pack a few things.  I go to the bank and
withdraw an unseemly large amount of cash.  The bank teller
asks if I'm running away from home.  This makes me laugh
out loud.  Yes, I say. I'm running away from home.

When I shut the car door it sounds like a door slamming
closed down the long corridor of my life.  What did that
idiot Julie Andrews say in 'The Sound of Music'?  When God
closes a door he always opens a window.

I decide to drive through the door instead.

********************

I end up halfway across the country with no destination in
mind.  Somewhere in Georgia I ditch my bureau car in case
they've put out an all points on me.  I buy a car from a
guy who wears a clip-on tie and smiles far too much.  I
decide to haggle a little longer over the price when he
calls me 'honey,' and 'little miss.' It's a private
transaction conducted with one of Mulder's shadier contacts
that I know.  Neither one of us wants any contact with
'authorities.'

I finally pay far too much for the Mustang, and drive off
headed west.  I've been to New Mexico.  Maybe I'll stay in
a remote area in the mountains until I can get a grip on
myself.  I just need some time alone.  Time away from my
new partner, the FBI, and the monsters that populate it.

I settle for Santa Fe and rent a house just ten minutes
away.  It has everything I want including the isolation. My
nearest neighbor is a family of survivalists who wants even
less to do with me than I do with them. 

And I get away with it. For a while.

**********************************

I should have known he'd show up and spoil the party. Does
this man live to make me answer for myself?

Skinner.  My tough-assed, nail chewing, ten-foot-tall
hulking boss shows up.  And he's pissed.  Really pissed. 
When I open the door without checking first, I actually
tried to slam it in his face. I couldn't believe it. I just
could *not* believe he would track me down this fast. It
has to be a new record. 

Six days.  I only got away for six DAYS.

He bars the door with one arm, pushing me back inside.  He
has the classic 'you are in big trouble and are going to
explain this to me in great detail' look on his face.  It's
mixed with the 'I think I may need to kill you first,
though' look.

I remember sitting across from him the first time Mulder
and I had to explain why a case went badly because the
people involved just wouldn't play by the rules and die the
way they were supposed to.  He listened as Mulder spooled
out his theories on abduction, aliens, and secret
government cover-ups with the strangest expression on his
face. It was stony-cold and hard as flint.  But his eyes;
his eyes were another matter all together.

He stared at us with wide-eyed disbelief.  The proverbial
'deer in the headlights look' with something a little extra
added.  It took three meetings for me to get it.  The deer
was certainly surprised, and was going to be hit by the car
all right, but this deer was pissed off at the car.

I got none of that now; just anger.  Pure, clean, burning
anger that radiates off of him like the Napalm of his
Vietnam days. 

He thinks he's going to intimidate me, as he always tries
to do.  Sometimes I have given in and cowered against his
strength.  Other times I'm so angry I forget who he is and
the power he could wield to hurt me.

Like that time with Diana Fowley.

When Mulder was half-naked and screaming my name into the
camera of his padded room.  And that bitch had the nerve to
tell me Mulder had called HER for help. It was pathetic.
Then Skinner had the audacity to grab my arm and then lie
about the information I'd gathered on the alien artifact.

I lost it.  Just lost it.

"You're both liars." I'd stormed at them.  I jerked my arm
out of his grasp and walked away from him in righteous
indignation. And he let me go. Even if it had turned out
later that I was wrong about him, at the time I felt
powerful.

I feel like that now.  I won't cower from him this time
either.

*******************************

"You have a great deal of explaining to do."  His tone is
deadly quiet.

"Oh?" A snotty reply.  I start off already trying to push
his buttons.

He steps closer, backing me up into the living room and
closing the door behind him.

"Yes, Agent Scully.  I believe you left an important
meeting with Agent Doggett and me."

"You didn't need me there."  I turn my back on him.

He puts my arm in a hard grip and literally jerks me back.
I look at the hand that easily encircles my entire forearm.
The skin has gone white; leached of blood from the force of
the hold.  And I feel a dangerous and mindless rage surge
through me.

"Let go of me."  I say it through clenched teeth

He doesn't move at all.  I can feel him daring me to try
anything.  When I look at his face I see a stranger has
replaced my stoic boss.  This is a man who is not reserved,
or quietly threatening.  This is a man dangerously close to
blowing apart.  Everything he is thinking is written on his
face as if a page of a book has been torn out and placed
there.

His face says 'don't try anything with me.'  I'm angry
with you and you will explain it all to me. You will not
get away from me.  I deserve an explanation for this
behavior. He is wrong.

Under normal circumstances this might have worked.  I'd
see how foolish I was behaving and go back with him without
protest.  But I only get angrier and feel more unreasonable
than ever.

I decide that words are useless here.  This man only
understands power and physical force.  I pull a self
defense maneuver; moving forward and bracing my feet on the
floor.  I attempt to throw him knowing that size doesn't
always count in such things; leverage does.  If I've caught
him off guard it will work.

But he is only mildly surprised, and we wind up in a heap
on the floor.  When I struggle he moves over me, pinning me
down with his legs, and raising my arms about my head.  He
uses his weight to simply stop any attempt on my part to
move at all. His head lies just above my left shoulder and
I hear his harsh breaths close to my ear. I am covered
completely and totally immobilized.

I struggle a little just for show, but I know I'm beaten. 
I feel the defeat rise in my throat like burning bile. All
the anger and indignation disappear, and I'm left with
what's underneath: pain.

Pain for allowing myself to lose control.  Pain for making
others worry unnecessarily about me.  Pain for losing
Mulder and being unable to find him.  Pain for Skinner who
probably thought he lost me too.

Suddenly I'm crying.  "I'm sorry, so sorry."

I repeat the phrase over and over like a mantra. 

"Please take me home."


Finally he relaxes; letting the stiffness leave his body
and curl around mine.  This is a Scully he can understand. 
A Scully who is weak and too needy of him.  Skinner needs
to be the strong one; the one who can give strength instead
of receive it.  I see now that it's been his mission all
along.

His head moves down to kiss my neck.  It is not the chaste
kiss of a friend; his lips are moist and warm.  His mouth
is open and gently sucking at the skin, traveling up behind
my ear.  When he lets go of my arms, I wrap one of them
around his torso and the other urges his head closer. My
legs are already lewdly spread under him by the awkwardness
of the fall.  I know we are lined up perfectly when I feel
his erection grind into my belly. Hooking my ankles around
his waist I grind back, moaning from the heat and weight of
his body.

And this is a Skinner that I can understand.  The man
hinted at when he slept with a prostitute.  A flawed human
being instead of the perfectionist boss. A man capable of
crossing a line that is invisible but whose power can
destroy lives.

This will restore my sanity.  He will help me burn away
the layers of frustration and unearth the emotions that
have been stored away for far too long.  I can tell by his
intensity and the body he's allowed to become unhinged,
that he needs this as much as I do.  Two people caught in
the trappings of civility and proper behavior breaking
free; destroying those bonds with the force of released
desire pent up for far too long.

His face travels up to devour my mouth.  Wet, hot silk
sliding against me, my lips already bruising underneath the
onslaught. His hands move to cover my breasts, groping
without finesse.  I welcome the roughness; urge him to
remove the clothing that separates the touching of our
skin. When the offending clothing is removed from me, he
buries his face against my breasts; sucking, licking,
teasing until I think the sensation alone will make me come.

My hands, frantic with need, pull at his sweater, jerking
it up so I can run my palms along his ribs. His sharp
intake of breath signals a highly responsive state. I feel
a strange kind of empowerment in his reaction; wanting to
feel more, greedy for contact.

Somehow his glasses and sweater come off along with his
pants and underwear. My slacks and panties befall the same
fate. He stands for a moment over me breathing heavily, his
erection standing out from between his hips. We gape at one
another unashamedly, the anticipation making us ache.

And then he is covering me again, starting the foreplay
all over again to heighten our pleasure to a maddening
degree. I try to touch him everywhere; finding his skin
warm and supple.  A healing balm to my soul.

When he enters me at last I arch my back in absolute
surrender; letting the pleasure break over me like
sunlight. When he moves, it is with a solid desperation and
he pins my arms above my head again.  I give him this
control without guile; his pain feels deeper than mine. 

I feel the orgasm rising up, carrying with it all the
appalling emotions I have felt these past days; rage, fear,
loneliness, and the powerlessness that losing Mulder have
generated in me.  They have been a black cancer to my soul.

When I come, those emotions wash out of me in a screaming
tide of anguish.  Skinner feels it too and takes the ride
with me; coming with the force of a hurricane. We are both
so energized by this I believe we'll ignite and burn the
entire house down with us.
When he collapses I hold him close, feeling the hard
thumping of his heart against mine.  There are no words
left to say now, no emotion that hasn't passed between us
already.  We kiss in acknowledgement for what has occurred
and leave it at that.

I coax him back to the bedroom and have him lie beside me
to sleep.  All aggression is gone now, and I am held by him
in a gentle embrace.  Tomorrow we will return to D.C. and
the real world.  Tomorrow I will make apologies to Doggett
and face the loneliness that haunts the office. Tomorrow
Skinner will become my superior again and we'll pretend
this never happened.

"Thank you," I say before drifting off to sleep.

"Why?"

"For bringing me home."

*End.*