Title: Against My Better Judgment
Author: Franki Tollefson
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: One Breath, if it's possible to spoil that at this point.
AntiSpoilers: Avatar never happened.
Summary: As Skinner lies in a coma, Scully and Mulder try to find his
lover.
Classification: S, R
Keywords: Skinner/other
Okay to archive

Most of the characters in here belong to Chris Carter and 1013.  I'm just
borrowing them and will put them back when I'm finished.  I think they'll
enjoy themselves.

Thanks to Karen Droms for her story assistance and beta-testing, thanks 
to Kellie Matthew-Simmons for beta-testing.

This story contains heterosexual *SEX* between two consenting adults.  If
you are under 18, or just prefer not to read explicit erotica, please
skip this story.

In this story, Avatar, the show with Skinner's wife, never happened.  I
started this before it aired and I liked the story too much to throw it
out.


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Against My Better Judgment
by Franki Tollefson

Then...

	Skinner sat in the hospital waiting room, quietly watching the
door of the Intensive Care Unit.  Dana Scully lay inside, more dead than 
alive.  She suddenly appeared in the ward a few days earlier, after being
missing for three months.

	A few hours ago, her mother and sister had chosen to remove her
from life support.  The doctors said it was only a matter of time now 
before her body gave in to the poison ravaging it.  Only a matter of time
before Scully was gone... and Mulder was lost.

	There was no doubt in Skinner's mind that Scully's death would 
destroy her partner.  He had watched helplessly as Mulder spiraled
into self-destruction in the last few months.  His renegade agent had
been operating on auto-pilot since the night Scully disappeared off that
mountaintop.

	Skinner's dark thoughts were interrupted by a young woman coming 
off the elevator.  She was wearing a simple white dress; she might have
been a nurse, the way she blended into the background of the hospital; 
but there was something about her that caught his attention.  When she 
nonchalantly walked into Scully's room, Skinner moved, quickly standing 
and walking to the door of the room.

	What he saw when he looked inside surprised him enough to make 
him hesitate.  The woman was standing next to Dana, with one hand resting 
gently against the unconscious woman's shoulder.  The 'nurse's' head 
was bowed and she seemed to be praying, or maybe just concentrating very 
hard.

	The Assistant Director watched quietly, alert to any threatening 
movements.  After a few minutes, the stranger turned and walked out of 
the room.  She passed within a foot of Skinner, but made no sign that 
she'd noticed him.  

	When she immediately walked back to the elevator and pushed the 
down button, Skinner decided to follow her.  Hurrying to the stairs, he 
started running down two at a time.  He headed for the parking garage, it 
was a risk, she could just as easily stop at the lobby, but he had to 
make a choice.

	Letting himself out the door to the garage, he waited in the 
shadows for the elevator.  To his relief, the door opened a few moments 
later and the young woman stepped out.  She walked across the parking 
lot, climbed into a green sedan, and started to pull out.   Skinner 
stepped out of the shadows in time to get her license plate as she drove 
away.

	Heading up to the lobby, Skinner pulled out his cellular phone 
and and called the number in.  He had the information he wanted within
moments, the license plate was assigned to a green Chevy Cavalier, a 
rental car.  Making another phone call, Skinner arranged to have the 
woman who had rented the car traced through the rental agency.

	It was probably too late, chances were the woman would just 
disappear, but he had to try.  Once the wheels were in motion, he headed 
back to ICU to check on Scully.  

	His heart sank at the crowd surrounding Dana's bed.  Expecting 
the worst, he walked over to the desk to ask what was going on.  

	"Ms. Scully regained consciousness!" the woman behind the desk 
told him, with a broad smile.  "It looks like she's going to be fine."

	Skinner was stunned by the news.  Without a word he turned and 
sat down in one of the chairs.  'She's going to live,' he thought.  
'Thank God!'

	He waited until Mulder came barrelling out of the elevator and 
into Scully's room.  Once he knew Mulder was all right, Skinner threw 
out the cup of coffee he didn't remember pouring and headed back to the 
office.  

			***

Now...

	Mulder looked up as Scully came into the waiting room.  

	"They've brought him back to the room," she said, gesturing for
Mulder to follow her.
	As they approached the ICU, the surgeon stepped out and closed
the door behind him. 

	"How did the surgery go?"  Mulder asked.

	"We relieved the pressure.  Now all we can do is wait and see.
He could regain consciousness in the next few days... or never."

	"That's it?  That's all you can tell us?" Mulder demanded.

	"Agent Mulder," the doctor responded in exasperation.  "I'm not 
even sure why he's still alive.  I saw the video on the TV; that bomb 
should have reduced him to elemental particles, but other than the head 
injury, he didn't get anything but cuts and bruises."

	"I talked to the crime scene team," Scully explained.  "It looks
like Skinner dropped his phone while he was opening the door to his car.
He was reaching for it when the bomb went off.  The head injury was
caused by the door swinging out from the car."
   
	The doctor nodded, "He's been incredibly lucky, so far...at this 
point, all we can do is hope his luck holds."

	"I'm sorry, doctor," Mulder said, "I didn't mean to take this out
on you."
  
	"It's all right, Agent Mulder.  I understand.  Have you been able 
to contact his family?"

	"He doesn't have any next of kin listed.  We checked when he was
shot last year."

	"Do you know of someone named 'Ella'?" the doctor asked.

	Mulder and Scully exchanged puzzled looks.  "No," Mulder replied
after a moment.  "Why?"

	"He speaks occasionally.  It's mostly incoherent, but he does
say some things very clearly.  One of them is 'Ella'."

	"Maybe she's a relative," Scully suggested.  "A sister?"

	"Or even a daughter," Mulder added.

	The doctor smiled a little wryly, "No.  The dreams Mr. Skinner is
having about 'Ella' aren't exactly...platonic."

	"Really?" Mulder asked in a speculative voice.  "I wonder who 
she is."

	"Maybe you should try and find out," the doctor suggested.

	"Why?" Scully frowned.  "His personal life is none of our 
business.

	"True," the doctor said.  "But if they're close, maybe her voice
will bring him back."

	"We'll do our best," Mulder promised.  "C'mon Scully."

	"Mulder," Scully began, as they walked to their car.  "Shouldn't
we be investigating the bombing?"

	"A bomb went off in the parking garage of the FBI, Scully,"
Mulder pointed out, "Every agent in Washington, D.C. is trying to figure
out why.  They don't need our help right this minute."

	Scully had to admit he was right.  "Where do we start?" she asked 
as they arrived at their car.  "All we know is her first name."

	"Well, we know Skinner's having wet dreams about her," Mulder
said with a grin.

	"Mulder!" Scully scolded, trying not to laugh.  

	"Let's start with Kimberly, maybe she knows something," he
suggested.

	"Good idea.  If anybody does, it'd be her."

				***

Then... 

	Skinner's relief at Scully's unexpected recovery had distracted 
him from the woman he'd seen earlier.  But, when he got back to his desk 
he found a file with the information he'd requested waiting for him.

	Reminded of what he'd witnessed, he began to wonder if there was 
a connection between her and Scully's survival.  'Did she do something?' 
he asked himself.  'Was she involved in all this?'

	Opening the file, he found what he wanted right on top.  She was
staying at the downtown Hilton.  Room 1207.  Picking up his jacket, 
Skinner walked out.

	*Knock*knock*knock*  

	Skinner waited impatiently in the hall of the expensive hotel.  
He could hear someone moving around inside the room.  Finally, footsteps 
approached and the door opened.  Inside stood the woman he'd seen 
earlier.  Her hair was wet, and curling softly around her face.  She'd 
pulled a robe on, but he could still see small drops of water on her 
skin.  He'd caught her getting out of the shower.

	"May I help you?" she asked, in a soft, vaguely British accent.

	Realizing he was staring, he cleared his throat.  Handing her his
ID, he introduced himself, "I'm Assistant Director Walter Skinner, FBI."

	She made a show of inspecting his ID and handing it back.  
Something in her attitude told him she knew exactly who he was.

	"What can I do for you, Assistant Director Walter Skinner?" she
asked with a small smile of amusement.

	"Are you Ella Trent?" he asked.

	She nodded, raising an eyebrow, "Yes, I am.  I don't have a 
fancy ID like that, but you can see my passport if you like."

	"May I come in?" he asked.

	"Oh, I'm sorry.  Of course."  She stepped back, allowing him to 
pass.

	He stepped past her and walked into the room.  Taking a seat on 
one of the chairs, he studied her.  She knew who he was.  If he wasn't 
sure before, the fact that she let him into her hotel room convinced him.  
	This woman wasn't careless, she'd never let an unknown man into 
her room, no matter how fancy his ID was.  Especially, not one large 
enough to easily overpower her.

	She was a pretty thing.  Not, model-gorgeous, but pretty in a
fresh sort of way.  Her hair was auburn, long, curly and very thick.  
Her face was small, almost overpowered by the curls surrounding it.
She'd worn it pulled back, tamed into some sort of braid earlier,
but she hadn't had a chance to do anything with it after her shower and
it hung loose around her face.

	There was a light brush of freckles across her nose.  Her eyes 
were green, but Skinner suspected they'd change colors depending on her 
mood.  It wasn't the color that interested him though, it was the look 
behind them.  This woman had seen far too much in her young life.  He 
guessed she was in her late twenties, but her eyes looked old and far 
too knowing.

	Sitting down across from him on the bed, Ella said, "What's this
about?"

	Reminded of why he was there, Skinner asked the question that had
been on his mind for hours, "What were you doing at the hospital earlier?"

	She looked startled, but recovered almost immediately.  "Today is
the anniversary of the death of a close friend," she answered after a
moment.  "She died alone in the hospital, because no one knew where she 
was.  For the last five years, I always mark the day by visiting people 
in the hospital.  Since I was here, I went to the hospital here."

	It was a good story, she'd obviously planned the answer to that 
particular question.  For a moment, Skinner almost bought it, but it was
a little too pat.

	"Try again," he said shortly.

	A look of annoyance crossed her face, "What do you mean?"
	
	"You came up on the elevator, walked into Scully's room, put
your hands on her, then turned around and left the hospital.  You weren't
there to visit patients, you were there to see Dana Scully.  You did 
something to her.  I'm not sure what, but my guess is you saved her life."

	A look of relief crossed her face.  It was only there for a 
moment, before it disappeared, replaced by a look of calculated amusement.  

	"So, am I under arrest for saving her life?" she asked with
feigned innocence.

	"I could arrest you for practicing medicine without a license."

	"For walking in her room and putting my hand on her shoulder?"

	"Then, you admit you did something to her?"

	"I don't admit anything," she said simply.  "If that's all, could
you excuse me?  I was planning to get dressed and go get some dinner."

	"What did you do to Agent Scully?" Skinner demanded, tired of the
sparring.

	"I don't know what you want me to say," she answered.  "Look, 
Mr. Skinner.  Either arrest me or go away.  I don't have anything else to 
say to you."

	Knowing he didn't have anything to charge her with, Skinner stood
up with a sigh.  "How long are you going to be in town?"

	"For a week," she answered.  "I'm doing some sight-seeing."

	"If I need to ask you anything else, I'll be in touch,"  he said,
handing her his business card.

	"Unless you're planning to ask me to dinner, don't bother," she
replied, the teasing smile back.  "I don't have anything else to tell 
you."

			***

Now...

	Kimberly looked up from her desk as Mulder and Scully walked into
Skinner's outer office.  "How is he?" she asked quickly.

	"He's stable for now," Scully replied.  "They're still not
letting him have visitors."

	"Kim," Mulder began.  "We need to ask you a couple of questions."

	She looked puzzled, "What about?  I wasn't anywhere near the
parking garage."

	"This isn't about the bombing," Scully replied reassuringly.  "We 
need to get a hold of someone and we were hoping you could help."

	"If I can," Kimberly answered.  "Who?"

	"A friend of Skinner's," Scully explained.  "A woman named Ella."

	At the amused smile on Kimberly's face, Mulder said, "I see you
know her."

	"No," she answered.  "We've never met.  I've spoken to her on the
phone a few times."

	"Do you have her phone number?" Scully asked.  Maybe this would
be easier than they thought.

	"No," Kimberly said.  "No phone number.  No address.  I don't 
even know her last name.  She calls, asks for 'Walter', I ring her 
through."

	"You ring her through?" Mulder asked, surprised.  "You don't buzz
him and tell him who's on the line?"

	"No," she replied.  "I just ring her through."  With a chuckle
she went on, "She called once; it was only the second or third time I'd
spoken to her.  The AD was in conference, said he didn't want to be
disturbed, so I offered to take a message.  She refused, said she'd call
back later.  When I told him she called, he made a face.  By the end of 
the day, she still hadn't called back.  He wasn't happy about it.  He 
said, 'From now on, ring her through no matter what,'  even if he was in 
conference.  

	"He was in a better mood the next day; it was pretty obvious
he'd heard from her.  He apologized for snapping, but still insisted I
ring her through immediately.  So I do," she finished with a shrug.

	"But, you don't know how to get a hold of her?" Scully asked.

	"No idea.  She's always polite, asks about my daughter and
everything, but she doesn't tell me anything about herself."

	"Has she called in the last couple of days?"  Mulder asked.

	"No."

	"If she calls, will you ask her to call Scully and me?  At least
get her last name and a phone number."

	"Yes, sir," she replied.

	"If you think of anything else," Scully said as they turned to
go, "give us a call."

	"I will.  Oh, wait.  I think she might be English."

	"Why?  Does she has an accent?"

	"Yeah, sort of.  It's not very thick."

	"Okay, thanks."

			***

Then...


	Skinner was sitting at his desk the next afternoon, reading the 
report he'd received on Ella Trent.  He'd stopped in at the hospital on
the way in and checked on Scully.  She still looked wan and exhausted, 
but the doctors assured him she was recovering.

	Ella was a 28-year-old computer consultant, who earned large 
paychecks by helping companies solve their computer problems.  Skinner 
read an impressive list of the companies she'd contracted for, some in 
the States, others in Europe or Asia.  She obviously traveled a great 
deal and probably made pretty good money.

	Setting the career information aside, he picked up the personal 
sheet.  She'd been orphaned when she was twelve and adopted by Catherine
Trent, her mother's best friend from childhood.  The information about 
her natural parents was sketchy, they died in a light plane crash in
South America.  Ella didn't know them well, she'd spent most of her
life in boarding schools.

	The only real information about them were names and Social
Security numbers, some sketchy career information about her father,
almost nothing about her mother.

	Surprised by the Social Security numbers, Skinner flipped
through the papers in the folder for a moment.  Finding what he was
looking for, he sat back and read the information.  'Certificate of
Live Birth,' Name, Eleanora Jean Bronton,  Birthdate, March 12, 1964.
Birthplace, New Orleans, LA, USA.

	She was an American citizen.  At least, she was born in the
States.  Nothing in the file indicated a change in her citizenship.
Suddenly, he found himself wishing he'd taken her up on her offer
to see her passport.

	Setting the papers aside, Skinner headed home.  Why was he
obsessing about this?  As far as he could tell, she'd done nothing
but touch Scully and leave.  The fact that Dana had regained 
consciousness within minutes had to be a coincidence.  Unless he
wanted to believe Ms. Trent was some kind of faith healer.  

	Skinner laughed at himself, he was beginning to sound like
Mulder.  Unfortunately, the only other explanation he could think 
of was that she was involved and had given Dana some kind of
antidote.  He found himself unwilling to believe that.  He didn't
know much about Ella Trent, but for some reason he couldn't accept
the idea of her being involved with 'Cancerman' and his cronies.

			 *

	He let his fingers travel over her hips, enjoying the weight of 
her as she straddled his lap.  Raising his hands, he wrapped his fingers
in her hair.  Pulling her mouth to his, he explored the inner surfaces
with his tongue as she began to rock against him.

	She felt so hot and wet against his straining erection.  Raising
up onto her knees, she gave him room to move.  He stroked up into her, 
driving both of them toward their release.  

	He felt her tighten around him, heard her call out his name--

			 *

	*Beep*Beep*Beep*Beep*

	Skinner reached over and slammed the off button on his alarm 
clock.  He groaned, remembering his dream, as he felt the desire still 
raging in him. Dragging himself out of bed, he headed into the shower. 

	Adjusting the temperature, he climbed in and let the water sluice
over him.  Unable to distract himself from his arousal, he reached for
the faucet to turn off the hot water.  Hesitating, he pulled his hand 
back, there were more pleasurable ways to relieve the tension.

	Reaching toward his groin, he began to stroke himself, letting 
his mind return to the dream of her.

			 * 

	Driving to work, he asked himself why he was having erotic 
dreams about Ella Trent.  She was attractive, but it wasn't that; he met 
plenty of attractive women.  There was something about her that got to 
him.  Something that made him want...

	After pouring himself a cup of coffee, Skinner settled himself at
his desk and began going over reports.  On the top of the stack was a 
file on Dana Scully's medical condition, along with a report on her 
debriefing.

	The latter report was practically blank.  Dana didn't remember
anything at all about the missing three months.  Mulder had written the
report and his frustration came through in the short terse sentences.

	'Agent Scully retains no memory of her abduction.  She can not
give us any information on her whereabouts, her actions, or the identity
of her abductors.'

	The other report was just as useless.  The garbage that had been
in her system, the poison destroying her body, had simply disappeared.
The doctors suggested that it had possibly broken down into basic 
elements and been absorbed.  There was no explanation of how or why that 
would suddenly happen after days of her condition becoming worse.

	They had no leads, no information.  Except one:  Ella Trent.
Somehow, Skinner had to try again to get some information out of her.
He knew he should tell Mulder the story and let him deal with it, but
something told him to handle it himself.  Against his better judgment, he 
headed back to her hotel.

	She was dressed this time, in a flowered cotton dress with 
buttons all the way down the front.  She had left a few of the top 
buttons open, giving him a brief glimpse of creamy white skin as she 
pulled the door back.  The brief view reminded him vividly of his early 
morning dream and he quickly looked away. 

	Ella let out a little sigh when she saw who it was.  "Yes?"

	"I need to ask you some more questions."

	"I don't have anything else to tell you," she said, with an air
of exasperation.

	"May I come in?"

	"No," she answered.  "I'm on my way out."

	"We could talk at headquarters," he pointed out.

	"Oh, all right," she said, frustrated.   Stepping back, she let 
him in.

	As soon as the door closed, he started, "I want to know the truth.
What did you do to Agent Scully?  How do you know her?  What were you
doing in her room?  Who do you work for?  Did you have something to do
with Agent Scully's disappearance?"  He stopped, taking a breath.

	"Finished?" she asked.

	"Answer my questions," he demanded.

	"I already have," she answered.

	"Do you know Agent Scully?"

	She sighed and then answered him, "No, we've never met."

	"Who do you work for?"

	"I work for myself.  I'm a computer consultant.  At the moment, 
I'm taking some time off between contracts.  But then, you *knew* that," 
she said.

	"Were you involved with Scully's disappearance?"  he asked.

	"No," she said, shocked.  "I had nothing to do with her 
disappearance.  I would never be involved with taking someone away from 
her home and the people who love her."  Her voice was quiet, but there 
was a strength of emotion behind her words that surprised him.

	"What did you do to her?" he asked finally.  "Please!"

	"I didn't *do* anything!" she insisted.  "I just went to see her."

	"Why?"

	"Let me get this straight.  You think I went to see her and did 
something to save her life.  Because of that, you think that I must have
been involved in her kidnapping?"

	"Who else would have known how to save her life?"

	"That doesn't make any sense," she said.  "If they knew how to 
save her life, why wouldn't they just do it.  Why send her back for 
several days, then save her?  They sent her back because she was dying.  
They wanted some closure on the situation, so her partner wouldn't keep
looking for her."

	"How do you know that?"

	She sighed and dropped to the side of the bed, "I don't know
it.  I'm guessing.  But, it makes more sense than your theory."

	"It still doesn't explain what you did to save her life."

	"I didn't do *anything*!  My visit was just a coincidence."

	"Then, why were you there?"

	"Honestly?  Oh, all right.  *Dammit*.  I met Mulder in college.
He hardly knew I existed, but he *fascinated* me."  

	"Oh, not the way you think," she said quickly, seeing his amused 
smile.  "He was just so alone.  Even when he was with people.  There were 
a hundred women there that would gladly have kept him company, but he 
never even seemed to notice most of them.  Chances are, if you asked 
him, he'd tell you he never had much success with women.  The truth is, 
he just never noticed.

	"I was curious enough to do a little research and found out about
his private obsession.  His sister was abducted right in front of him!  
What a horrible thing to happen.  Ever since then, I've kept track of 
him, followed his exploits.  

	"When I heard last week that his partner had been kidnapped, I 
came here to see if I could help.  I have a lot of friends all over the 
world, because of my consulting work.  By the time I got here though, she 
was back, but dying.  I knew her death would kill him, so I went to her 
to ask her to live.  I guess she must have heard me."

	Skinner didn't speak at first.  The story actually made a certain
amount of sense.  Her background check did say she'd gone to the same 
college as Mulder; and Scully had said something about a woman in her 
dreams telling her she couldn't leave yet.  Was it possible this was all 
there was to it?

	It would also explain her reaction when he suggested she'd had
something to do with Scully's disappearance.  If she knew about his
sister, no wonder she was appalled.

	He found himself believing her.  He knew it was partly because he
wanted to believe she was innocent, but there was a ring of truth to
her story which convinced him.  There was more to the story, he was sure
of that; but it could be as simple as her not wanting to admit to a 
schoolgirl crush.

	Finally, he nodded.  "Thank you."

	"For what?" she sounded puzzled.

	"For explaining," he answered, "and for calling her back."

	She smiled at that and he realized he'd never seen her really
smile.  It lit up her face and he found himself smiling in return.  He
glanced at his watch, it was almost noon.

	"Can I take you to lunch?" he asked suddenly.

	"I'm sorry.  I've already made plans for lunch," she answered,
standing.

	They walked to the door.  Ella opened it, and he started out.
Hesitating, he turned back, "Can I take you to dinner?"

	She was right there, inches from him, and she made no move to
step away.  Their gazes locked and for long moments, neither of them 
spoke.  Finally, she took a deep breath and looked away, "I don't think
I'll be back in time."

	"Can I take you to bed?"  

	He was stunned when he realized what he'd said.  Her head snapped 
back to face him, and he half-expected her to slap him.  Instead, she 
said softly, "Good day, Mr. Skinner."

	'Can I take you to bed?' he thought to himself as he drove back
to the office.  Where the hell did that come from?  It didn't matter,
he probably wouldn't be seeing her again.  He wasn't sure why that 
bothered him so much.

			***

Now...

	Mulder unlocked the door and stepped back, allowing Scully to
enter ahead of him.  She held back, still unconvinced this was necessary.

	"I'm really uncomfortable about this, Mulder," she said for about
the tenth time.

	"I don't like it any better than you do, Scully," he answered.
"But, how are we going to find out how to get a hold of this woman if we
don't search his house?"

	"I know.  I know," she sighed.  "I still don't like it."

	Giving in, she stepped past him into the entry of the Assistant
Director's home.  Mulder closed the door behind him and followed her into
the hallway.

	"Where do we start?" she asked him.

	"Why don't we just look through all the rooms.  If we don't turn 
something up, we can start a more thorough search," he suggested.  

	When she nodded, he turned toward the living room.  There wasn't 
anything obvious in there or in the kitchen.  They didn't turn up
anything until they checked the master bedroom.  Sitting on the dresser
was a framed photo of a laughing, auburn-haired woman.  In an open
spot near the bottom, "Love, Ella" had been scrawled in a childish hand.

	"She's pretty," Scully commented.

	"Yeah," Mulder replied.  "And young."

	"She's about my age," Scully pointed out.

	Mulder just grinned at that.  "I guess we'd better start a more
detailed search," he said, looking around.  "Why don't you start in the
office downstairs.  I'll take the living room."  Scully nodded, neither 
of them wanted to search their boss' bedroom if they could avoid it.

	"There's a message on his answering machine.  I think it's 
from her," Scully said, coming into the living room a few minutes later.

	Mulder looked up from a video cassette he was holding.  "When?"

	"Last night around ten, according to the built-in clock."

	"We can check his phone records," Mulder said.

	Scully nodded.  "What have you got?" she asked, indicating the
video tape.

	Mulder held it up so she could see the label, which read: "Ella."

	"I think we should watch it," he suggested.

	"I guess," Scully said reluctantly.  "I feel like we're invading
his privacy."

	"It might help us find her."

	"Yeah, okay," she sighed. "Put it in."

	After a moment of static, the picture cleared to show the room
they were currently in.  The camera slowly panned the room, zooming in
and out on objects.

	Off-camera, a soft female voice with a slightly british accent
began speaking.  "What do you think?  The heels or the fla..."  her voice 
trailed off as the camera turned to her.

	It was the woman from the picture they'd seen earlier.  Early
thirties, thick, curly dark red hair, pulled off her face in a simple, 
but elegant knot.  A few strands had escaped to gently curl around her 
face.

	She was dressed to the nines, obviously ready to attend a formal
party of some sort.  A forest green, strapless sheath clung gently to
her curves.  The hem stopped about three inches above her knee. In her 
hands hung two different pairs of matching shoes.

	As the camera focused on her, she grinned and leaned against the
doorjamb.  "You like?"

	"You're beautiful," Skinner's fervent voice came from behind the 
camera.

	She laughed a little, blushing.  "Well, thank you; but I meant 
the camera."

	He chuckled.  "Oh.  Yes, I like the camera."  The picture focused
tightly on her feet and slowly panned up her body, hesitating at her
throat.  "You're wearing your pearls."

	Her hand came up to the string of black pearls at her throat.  "I
don't think I'm ever going to take them off.  They're really beautiful,
love, but they must have cost a small fortune."

	"Small, hell," Skinner muttered, making her laugh.  After a
moment, he went on, "Wear the flats.  You're going to be on your feet all
night; there's no point in being uncomfortable.  Besides, I think it's
snowing; you don't want to wear heels in that."

	She made a face, dropped the shoes and crossed over to the window.  
	The camera turned, following her movements.  Pulling back the 
curtain, she looked out for a few seconds.  Sighing, she turned back 
around.  "You're right, it's snowing."

	"Well, hopefully it won't get too bad," Skinner responded, trying
to reassure her.

	"Hopefully..." her voice trailed off for a moment, as she looked
back out the window.  "Let's stay home," she suggested suddenly, turning
to face him again.

	"I thought you were looking forward to tonight."

	"I was, but...a New Year's Eve party at the British Embassy
sounded like fun in November.  Now," she shrugged, "it just seems like a
lot of bother for nothing."

	"Ella..."  It was a sigh.

	A slow smile crept across her face and her voice dropped to a
seductive whisper, "We could stay here... build a fire... heat up some 
soup, and that loaf of french bread... there's a bottle of champagne in 
the cooler... we can watch them drop the ball at Times Square on the 
television...  eat supper... make love in front of the fireplace..."

	A small groan, followed by a soft chuckle came from behind the
camera.  "Am I ever going to learn how to say 'no' to you?"

	A look of mock horror came over her face, "God!  I hope not!" she
exclaimed, teasing him.

	Skinner laughed again.  "You spent two hours getting ready..."

	"That's all right," she answered.  "I can get unready in about
sixty seconds."

	"Prove it," he responded, still laughing.

	"Turn off the damn camera."

	"Not a chance."

	She stared at him in disbelief for a moment, then shrugged.  
"Suit yourself." 

	Reaching up, she pulled a couple of pins out of her hair.  Shaking
her head, the red curls tumbled down around her shoulders in a wild mane.
Tugging the zipper at the back of her dress down, she let the dress slip
to the floor.  

	Underneath, she wore a tiny bra, panties, and a garterbelt all in 
the same deep green as the dress.  Shimmering stockings connected to the
garterbelt straps about an inch below the panties.

	"Damn..." Skinner's voice was barely audible on the tape.  Ella
reached down to unfasten a stocking, but he stopped her.  "I'll do that."

	"With that camera in your hand?"

	The picture jiggled for a second, went dark and then came back on
with a view of Skinner turning away from the camera.  Silently, he walked
back over and sat down.  The picture was now of him and the sofa he was
sitting on.  "Come here," he said, as he got settled.

	"Is the camera off?" Ella's voice came from off to the side.

	"Yes, it's off," he answered, sounding sincere.

	Mulder snorted at that and Scully suppressed a smile.  This was a
side of her boss she'd never seen.  He was dressed pretty well himself,
in a traditional, extremely well-tailored tuxedo.

	Ella came back into the picture.  Lifting her foot, she set it on
the sofa next to him.  As he reached for her stockings, she said, "I
don't know how you manage to win at poker."  He looked up at her, with a
puzzled expression.  She nodded toward the camera.  "You're a lousy liar."

	"You know me better than the men I play poker with," he said.
Leaning in, he kissed her inner thigh just above the stocking.

	"I know you better than you do," she whispered in a husky voice.

	"That's probably true," he admitted.  Placing a hand on each of 
her hips, he pulled her down into his lap and hugged her, brushing his 
lips along her throat.

	"Mmmm," she whispered, pulling back enough to help him off with
his jacket.  "This looks wonderful on you.  You look like you were born
in a tuxedo."  She set the jacket aside.  "Of course," she went on,
tugging at his tie.  "I like you better in the suit you were born in."

	Tangling a hand in her hair, he tilted her head, capturing her
lips as his other hand moved to unfasten her brassiere.  Strapless, the
bra fell away as soon as it was open--

	The television shut off.

	"Scully!"  Mulder said, startled.

	"That's enough, Mulder.  We're not going to watch them have sex."

	Mulder put on a show of pouting, "You're no fun..."

			***

Then...

	*Ring*  Skinner glanced up, startled when his desk phone started
ringing.  Glancing at the clock, he realized it was after six.  Kimberly
must have gone home and transferred the line to him.  

	Picking up the phone, he said, "Skinner."

	"Mr. Skinner?  It's Ella Trent."

	"Ms. Trent?  Can I help you," he asked, shocked to hear her voice.  
	He hadn't expected to hear from her after that morning.  'Can I 
take you to bed?' He still didn't know what had possessed him.

	"I got back to my hotel sooner than I expected," she said,
sounding a little hesitant.  "I was wondering if that dinner invitation
was still open?"

	"Of course," he answered, his voice sounding a lot more steady
than he felt.  "When?"

	"Soon?" she asked, teasing a little.  "I'm rather hungry."

	"I'll pick you up in fifteen minutes," he answered.

	"Why don't you meet me in the bar here at the hotel," she
suggested.  "We can get something to eat there.  I really am hungry."

	"All right," he replied.  "I'll see you in a few minutes."

	He stopped in the men's room on the way out.  Looking in the
mirror, he straightened his tie and wished he had time to change out of
the business suit.  'Oh, well.  She probably wouldn't recognize me
without it.'

	Skinner knew the impression he usually produced.  All business.
The FBI Assistant Director, the ex-marine.  For the most part, it was
true, but not completely.  There was a part of him that enjoyed going to
basketball games or reading a good book.  A part that wanted the comfort
of a woman's company and missed it when he didn't have it.  He hadn't
been involved with anyone in the last couple of years and he was lonely.  

	Arriving at the hotel a few minutes later, he parked his car and
headed for the bar.  Stepping inside, he looked around and saw her wave
to him from a corner table.  As he walked over, he noticed the position
of the table she'd chosen.  Obscured by a column, it was private, set off
from the rest of the room.

	"You made it," she said, smiling.

	"I'd have been here sooner, but traffic was a bear," he answered, 
taking a seat opposite her.  

	A waiter appeared next to the table.  "Can I get you something, 
sir?"

	Noticing Ella already had a glass of wine, Skinner ordered a 
scotch on the rocks.  Pulling off his jacket, he set it aside and 
loosened his tie.  He unfastened a cuff and started to roll his sleeve 
up.  Glancing at Ella, he hesitated at the intense look on her face.  
After a moment, he continued to roll the sleeve, suddenly feeling like he 
was performing a striptease.

	Realizing he was aware of her watching him, she looked away 
quickly.  Picking up her wine, she took a quick sip and set it back down 
as he finished with his sleeves.

	Pushing her chair back a little, she crossed her legs.  She was
still wearing the flowered dress from this morning, but she'd opened the
buttons from the hem almost to her hip.  When she crossed her legs, the
dress parted revealing a sleek thigh.  She was wearing stockings, rather
than pantyhose and he caught a brief glimpse of bare skin.

	Suddenly relieved that he hadn't gotten a chance to change out of
the loose-fitting dress slacks, Skinner tried to force his eyes away.  
Looking up, he saw her watching him with a small smile and almost groaned.

	"Would you like to dance," she asked.

	"I-"  

	The waiter interrupted, setting Skinner's scotch on the table.
"Can I get you anything else?"

	"Would you like to order some dinner?" Skinner asked, looking at
Ella.  

	"Not really.  Not right now.  You go ahead," she answered.

	"That's all right," he said.  "I ate a couple of hours ago."

	Once the waiter left the table, Skinner said, "I thought you were
hungry?"

	"I am," she answered, her voice suddenly deeper, more husky.  
"Now, dance with me."

	Without a word, he stood and led her out on the dance floor.  A
soft ballad was playing and she moved into his arms, pressing herself
tightly against him.  His arms went around her as he lowered his head
until he could smell the soft scent of her perfume.

	As close as she was to him, he knew there was little chance of 
hiding the affect she was having on him.  Accepting it, he let his hands 
travel lower, pressing her even closer.  In response, she began to roll 
her hips in gentle waves that made him ache with need.  He didn't realize 
he'd groaned until she raised her head to face him.  Her eyes were dark 
with desire as she said softly, "You offered me something besides food..."

	In a deep whisper he repeated his request from earlier, "Can I 
take you to bed?"

	"Yes," she answered simply, pulling away and moving to pick up her
handbag.  He reached for his wallet, but she caught his hand.  "I put the
tab on my room.  I wanted to be able to leave."

	He nodded, picked up his jacket and followed her to the elevator.
She pushed the button and they stood quietly waiting.  He held his jacket 
in front of him, trying to hide his obvious arousal from passersby.  As 
soon as the doors opened they stepped inside.  Ella pushed the floor 
button quickly before anyone else could get on.

	As soon as the doors were closed, she turned toward him.  Quickly,
he pulled her into his arms and held her against him.  He was aching to
kiss her, to taste her, but he didn't want to rush.  They'd be in her 
room soon enough.

	The doors opened and they stepped out, passing an elderly couple.
As they got to her room, Ella pulled out the key, quickly unlocking and 
opening the door.  Skinner followed her inside and she turned toward him, 
pushing the door closed.

	Finally alone, he pulled her to him.  Lowering his mouth to hers,
he kissed her.  He was gentle at first, but quickly became more demanding
as the passion began to take hold.  She matched him, opening her mouth
and meeting his tongue with her own.

	As his arousal began to escalate, his hands began to move.  
Slowly, he let his fingertips glide over her, learning her contours.  
After a few minutes of this, she broke the kiss and stepped back.  

	Taking his hand, she led him over to the bed.  Taking note of the 
carefully turned back blankets and bedspread, he smiled.  "Expecting 
someone?"

	"Mmmm-hmmm," she murmured, reaching for his tie.  Pulling it 
loose, she tossed it aside and started to unbutton his shirt.  Reaching 
the waist of his slacks, she tugged the shirttails free.  Opening the 
last button, she reached up and pushed the shirt off his shoulders.  
Tugging on his sleeves, she pulled it the rest of the way off and tossed 
it on a chair.

	Turning back, she pulled his undershirt out of his slacks and
quickly over his head.  "Finally," she said outloud, making him laugh 
softly.  "You've got an incredible body," she said, trailing her
fingernails over his chest.  "It's a shame to hide it under those stuffy
suits."

	"What would you suggest I wear?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

	"Jeans," she answered quickly, as if she'd already considered the
question.  "Cutoff jeans.  Cut *very* short."  She ran a finger across 
his upper thigh to demonstrate.  Moving her hand higher, she let her 
finger trace the outline of his erection before pulling back at his sharp 
intake of breath.  Looking him in the eye, she said softly, "I've wanted 
to make love to you since I saw you in the hospital."

	The comment startled him, he didn't realize she'd noticed him.  
Before he could comment, she went on, "Will you let me make love to you?"

	For a moment, he was puzzled by her question, then, he realized 
what she was asking.  He wasn't accustomed to letting someone else take 
control, especially, not a lover.  He hesitated, but his curiosity and 
desire got the better of him and he nodded.

	With a smile, she leaned in and kissed him again, probing his 
mouth with her tongue and nipping gently at his lower lip.  He noticed 
that he didn't need to lean down much to kiss her, she was only a couple 
inches shorter than he was.  He was a tall man and it was unusual to 
find a woman who could kiss him with so little effort.

	Moving away from his mouth, she kissed across his cheek to his
ear, letting her warm, moist breath caress him, "I dreamed about you this 
morning," she whispered.  "I dreamed we were making love.  I was sitting 
in your lap, with you buried deep inside me..."  

	He caught his breath, aroused by the description and stunned by 
how closely it matched his own dream.  

	Ella went on after a moment, "I woke up so aroused this morning, 
I almost took a cold shower.  I didn't though, I realized there were more 
satisfying ways of relieving that need.  I touched myself in the shower, 
thinking about you and imagining it was you touching... loving me."

	When he groaned softly, she moved away from his ear.  Kissing 
down his throat and across his chest, she captured a nipple between her 
lips and began to suckle hard.  Unable to control himself, his hands 
came up, reaching behind her head to tangle in the french braid behind 
her head.

	Using one hand to gently tug her back, he moved his other hand to
the buttons on her dress.  "I want to see you.  Show me your body..."

	Catching his hand, she stopped him and stepped back.  Kicking off 
her shoes, she said,  "Sit down."

	He did as she asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.  Once he was
settled, she began to unbutton her dress.  There were only five buttons 
still fastened, so it didn't take her long.  Dropping her hands, she let 
the dress slide down her arms and onto the floor.

	Underneath, she was wearing a tiny lavender bra, the delicate 
clasp laying between the swell of her breasts.  Lower, she had a matching 
pair of panties and a garterbelt attached to silk stockings.  

	Skinner shifted, his erection becoming almost painful at the 
sight.  Ella stepped close to him, but held up an admonishing finger when 
he reached to touch her.  

	"Scoot back a little," she said, raising a leg.  Understanding, he
slid back a couple of inches and she set her foot on the bed between his 
legs.  Inching it forward a tiny bit, she wiggled her toes against the 
bulge trapped in his slacks.  Raising her hands, she quickly unbraided 
her hair and shook it free.

	Once her hair had tumbled loose, she reached down and quickly 
unfastened the garters from her stocking.  Pulling her hands back, she
said, "Go ahead."

	Granted permission, he slowly pulled her stocking down, letting
his fingernails graze her inner thigh.  Once he had the stocking 
gathered around her ankle, he lifted her foot and pulled the delicate 
silk completely off. 

	Once her foot was bare, she pulled it away and repeated the 
process with the other leg.  Reaching behind her, she quickly unfastened 
the garter belt and dropped it to the floor.  "Do you like my brassiere?" 
she asked, teasingly.

	"Yes," he smiled.  "Very much."

	"Good," she answered.  "I think I'll leave it on for the moment." 
He groaned in disappointment at that and she laughed.  "Patience..."

	Kneeling down, she kissed his chest, running her tongue in 
circles around each of his nipples.  Moving lower, she swirled her tongue
in his naval and then trailed it along the skin just above his waistband.

	Quickly, she removed his shoes and socks, setting them aside.  
With a smile, she moved her hand to his groin, once again caressing him 
through the material.  When he pressed back toward her, she moved her 
hand and leaned in to kiss him. 

	Raising her head, she quickly unfastened the slacks and helped
him out of them and his briefs.  Sitting back, she slowly let her gaze 
travel down his naked body, lingering at the erection before looking
back to his face.  

	"I want to taste you," she told him.  "I want to feel you in my
mouth.  Do you want that?  Do you want to feel my mouth on you?  Do you
want to see my tongue licking every inch of this?"  She let her finger
trail up the side of his shaft.  He nodded, not speaking.   "Say it,"
she insisted.  "Tell me what you want."

	"I want to feel your mouth on me," he managed.  "I want to watch
you licking me."  Saying the words, raised his arousal until he could
barely catch his breath.

	"Lean back on your elbows, so you can see what I'm doing," she
said.  He did as she suggested, and she lowered her head to him.

	With one hand, she gently cradled his testicles.  The other, she 
wrapped around the head of his penis, holding it loosely.  Beginning at
the base, she slowly began to flick her tongue over him.  Using her 
hand to guide him, she took her time and covered every spot.  It took
her several minutes, and by the time she reached the glans he was 
moaning continuously.

	With one last stroke of her tongue, she tasted the fluid that 
had gathered at the tip, pausing for a moment to savor the flavor.  He
started to take a breath as her continuous stimulation eased for a 
moment.  Without warning, she quickly moved her mouth back to the tip
and let him slip between her lips.

	Gasping at the moist heat, he struggled to not thrust deeply
toward the incredible feeling.  Forcing himself to stay still, he 
begged her, "Ella, please..."

	Slowly, she let him slide back out of her mouth.  Pulling back,
she stood up and moved to the head of the bed.  Stacking pillows against
the headboard, she gestured for him to lean against them.

	Once he was in position, she slipped off her panties and climbed
across the bed until she was straddling him.  Realizing she was still 
wearing her bra, he reached up to unhook it, but she caught his hands.  
"I want you inside me first."

	Giving in with a puzzled expression, he let his fingers glide down
her stomach.  Pressing through the soft curls, he slid his fingers into
her folds.  Feeling her moisture coat his fingers, he caught his breath.

	Putting her hand under his chin, she made him look at her.  "I've
been like that all day," she whispered.  "Waiting for you.  Ready to 
have you inside me."  Leaning over, she pulled the drawer of the 
nightstand open and removed a small package.  Opening it, she scooted 
down and started rolling the condom down his erection with agonizing 
slowness. 

	Once he was sheathed, she moved back into position.  Raising up,
she positioned them and let him slide inside her.  After all of her
preliminary stimulation, the slight deadening of sensation caused by
the thin latex was the only thing that kept him from climaxing 
immediately.  Putting his hands firmly on each of her thighs, he held her 
in place, giving himself a chance to regain control.

	With a teasing smile, she moved her hands to her breasts, finally 
unclasping and removing the last scrap of clothing she was wearing.  Her 
breasts bared, she raised her hands to her hair, running her fingers 
through the curls, causing her breasts to raise and lower as her arms 
moved.

	"Lean forward," he whispered.  

	"Mmmm," she moaned, doing as he asked.  As a taut nipple brushed
against his lips, he caught it, using his tongue, teeth and lips to
stimulate it.  Whimpering softly with pleasure, she shifted, pulling the
breast away and offering him the other.

	As he began to suckle at the second breast, he wrapped his hands
around her hips and tugged, encouraging her to move.

	"What do you want," she asked, teasing him.

	"I want you to move," he answered, his mouth against her breast.
She stayed still, waiting.  After a moment, he said, "I want you to make 
love to me."

	That was obviously what she was waiting for.  Tightening muscles
deep within her, she began to rock her hips.  Stroking up and down on
his hard shaft, she drove him toward release.  Unwilling to reach that
goal alone, he slipped his fingers between them again, stimulating her 
clitoris as he continued to suck and nip at her breast.

	Concentrating on her, he held his own climax at bay as he waited
for her to join him.  Finally, she cried out softly, shuddering, as he 
felt the contractions begin deep inside her.  Giving in, he let himself 
follow her over the edge, thrusting hard into her as his orgasm pulsed 
through him.

	As she relaxed, Ella collapsed forward against his chest, with a 
soft moan.  "Nice..."

	"Very nice," he responded, wrapping his arms around her.  

	For long minutes, neither of them spoke as they caught their 
breath.  Finally, "Walter?"  She raised her head to look at him.  "Can I 
call you Walter?"

	He laughed and nodded, "You can call me anything you like."

	"How about lover?" she teased.

	"That works," he smiled, running his fingers through her hair.  
"You know, I dreamed about you this morning, too.  The dream was nice, 
but this was better."

	"Yes, it was," she agreed.  Suddenly, her stomach growled.  
Laughing, she said, "I guess I'm hungry."

	"For food, this time?"

	She grinned back at him, "For now..."

	She called room service and had supper delivered to the room.
Afterward, they lay in bed cuddling and making love until long after
midnight.

	"I need to get some sleep," he said, regretfully.  "I have to work
tomorrow."

	"Sleep here?" she asked.  "Please?"

	"Are you sure?"

	"I'm sure."

	Laying on his back, he held out his arm.  She snuggled against 
him, and they were both asleep within minutes.

			***

Now...

	Mulder wrote down a number and hung up the phone.  It was a 
cellular phone with an area code in Baltimore.  He looked at Scully and 
shrugged, "That was easy."  

	Scully laughed, "Don't look so worried, Mulder.  It doesn't always
have to be nearly impossible."

	Mulder pretended to look offended.  "What exactly do you mean, 
'nearly impossible'?  I barely start enjoying myself when our cases are 
totally and completely impossible.  'Nearly impossible' is for normal
FBI agents."  

	"Yes, Mulder," Scully answered with a mocking sigh.

	With a small chuckle, Mulder picked the phone back up and
dialed the number he'd gotten from the phone company records.  

	*Ring*...*Ring*...*Ring*...*Ring*...*Ring*...*Ring*...

	"Maybe it's not going to be so easy," he commented.

	Scully opened her mouth to respond, but Mulder held his hand up as
he heard the connection complete.  

	"Ella Trent," a soft voice answered.  Mulder recognized the 
voice and the slight British accent that he'd heard on the video earlier.

	"Uh, yes, Ms., uh,  Trent?" he started.  "This is Agent Mulder 
of the FBI--" 

	She interrupted him immediately.  "Oh, my god," she whispered.  
Then, "Is Walter alive?"

	"Yes," he answered, surprised by her immediate question.  He 
started to explain, but she cut him off.  "Where is he?"

	Mulder gave up, "He's in Bethesda Medical Hospital, the ICU."

	"I'm on my way."  The line went dead immediately.

	Scully looked quizzically at him.  He shrugged, "She's on her 
way."  After a moment, he went on, "Her last name is Trent."

			 *

	"Excuse me, Agent Mulder?"

	Mulder looked up at the voice.  Scully set down the chart she
was looking through and turned to the woman.

	"I'm Ella Trent," the young woman said.  

	Scully introduced herself and Mulder.  "I'm sorry about calling
you out of the blue," she began.  "We thought you'd want to know what
happen--"

	"Can I see him?" Ella interrupted her.

	"He's in there," Scully answered, pointing at the door.  Ella 
turned on her heel and headed into the ICU.

	"She doesn't seem to be interested in how he ended up here, does
she?"  Scully commented.

	"Maybe she already knows," Mulder replied.  Together they 
followed after her.  

	"You *bastard*!"  Ella exploded at the unconscious man on the
bed.  Scully and Mulder exchanged shocked looks.  "Don't you leave me,"
she went on.  "You are *not* getting rid of me this easily!"

	Mulder still looked a little shock, but Scully suppressed a smile.
Knowing the AD, the angry words would probably be more affective
than a gentle, loving voice.  

	"You better wake up, Walter Skinner," Ella went on.  "I'm not
going to wait forever you know.  I'll bet I can still get another date
for Saturday night..."  her voice broke at that and she turned away,
seemingly afraid to cry in front of her lover.  

	After a moment, she gathered herself together.  "Could we step
outside?" she asked the two agents quietly.  They nodded and Mulder
reached held the door for the two women.  

	A few moments later, the three of them were seated in the
waiting room.  There was no one else around and Ella went straight
to the point, "What happened?"

	Mulder and Scully exchanged looks.  After a moment, Scully
responded, giving her the story they'd agreed on.  She didn't need to
know everything,  "There was an explosion in the FBI garage.  Someone
planted a bomb in there.  Skinner was in the garage when it exploded."

	Ella smiled bitterly, "Just in the wrong place at the wrong time,
huh?"

	"It would appear that way."

	Ella stood and started walking toward the door of the ICU.  At
the door she stopped and turned back.  "Let me know when you find the
person who did this.  I'd like a few minutes alone with him."

	Scully smiled understandingly, but didn't respond.  Ella waited a
moment, then returned to Skinner's side.

	"Why do I get the feeling she didn't believe me?"  Scully asked
innocently.

	"Maybe because you weren't telling her the truth," Mulder
suggested sarcastically.  "I still think we should have told her the bomb
was in Skinner's car."

	"Why?  She would just worry that he might still be in danger,"
Scully answered.

	"You don't think the guard at the door might clue her in to that,
anyway?" Mulder pointed out.

	"Hopefully, she'll assume that's because he's the Assistant 
Director," Scully replied.

	"Maybe she already knows the bomb was in Skinner's car," Mulder 
suggested.

	"Do you really think she's involved with this, Mulder?" 

	"No, what would be her motive?" Mulder answered reluctantly.  He 
brightened after a moment  "Unless he actually dragged her to that New 
Year's Eve party..."

	"Cute, Mulder."

			 *

	Ella glanced at the clock on the wall.  Four A.M.  She'd been at
his side all night.  She set the book she'd been reading outloud aside,
groaning.  'The Hunt for Red October' was more his style than hers.  The
doctors had suggested reading to him, saying the sound of her voice might
help bring him out of his coma.  

	She sat quietly for a moment, watching her lover lying so still
on the hospital bed.  She'd watched him sleep so many times, but this was
so tragically different.  Why wouldn't he wake up?  Could he hear her?

	The irony of the situation wasn't lost on her.  Four years ago,
a total stranger's quiet request that she not die had brought Dana
Scully out of her coma, why couldn't she do the same thing for Walter?
Intellectually, she knew that Scully's recovery was just a coincidence,
but as she sat here, she found herself wishing it hadn't been.  Wishing
that somehow she had the power to call Skinner back.

	"When did it happen?" she asked herself.  "When did he become so
important to me?"

	It didn't start that way.  At first, it was purely sexual.  There
was something about him that woke up an almost primal need in her.  

	'Can I take you to bed?'  She realized even then, that the 
question had shocked him more than it had her.  The only thing that had 
stopped her from saying 'yes' immediately was the suspicion that she'd 
never see him again afterward.  Well, that, and the fact that she really 
did have a meeting scheduled for lunchtime that day.  It was all she 
could do to wait until evening to call him.

	After that first time, they'd been together every month or so,
every time she'd found a reason to come to Washington.  They weren't a
couple, they weren't even 'dating'.  When she got to town, she'd call and
ask him to have dinner with her; they always ended up in bed.  It went
on like that for almost a year.  Then, one day, she just walked away...


			***

Before...

	Skinner was uncomfortable.  He hated functions like this, but
they were part of the job.  Just another stand-around-with-no-one-
interesting-to-talk-to, boring, mind-numbing government 'party'.  At
least this one was at the Smithsonian, if he couldn't find someone to
talk to, he could occupy himself looking at the exhibits.

	He looked up from the 'Archie Bunker' exhibit and froze.  'What
the *hell* is she doing here?'  Six months of silence and she comes
strolling in like she owns the place.  From the look of shock on her
face, she obviously hadn't expected to find him here.  

	Beyond thought, he stormed toward her, intent on demanding an
explanation from her.  How long had she been back in Washington?  Why the
hell had she left without saying 'good-bye'?

	As he got close to her, she turned on her heel and started to
walk away.  He caught her arm, "I want to talk to you!"

	"Not in here," she answered quietly.  "Come with me."

	She headed off down the hall, obviously knowing where she was
going.  As soon as they were alone, he demanded, "Were you even going to
tell me you were in town?"

	She stopped, started to speak, then shook her head and kept
walking.  

	"*Dammit*!  Ella!"  Skinner followed her.  "How long have you
been here?"

	Without answering, she stopped and opened the door to a private 
lounge.  Skinner hesitated, looking in.

	"It's okay," she assured him.  "I'm doing some consulting work 
here.  I've worked here before, so I know my way around.  The guests 
aren't likely to wander back here."

	As soon as the door closed, Skinner went back on the attack, "Now
answer me!  How long have you been in Washington?"

	"I just got here a couple of hours ago," she answered.  "It's
the first time I've been in the States since I left.  I've been in Spain."

	"I know where you've been," he said sarcastically.  "Who the 
hell do you think you're talking to?"

	"You ran a check on me?" she demanded, surprised and a little 
hurt.

	"Yeah," he answered angrily.  "I thought I'd better make sure you
were still alive."

	A guilty look crossed her face, she hadn't intended to worry 
him, "I'm sorry."

	Skinner shook his head.  "That's not good enough, Ella.  You don't
say good-bye, you don't call for six months and you're *sorry*?  The only
thing you're sorry about is running into me."

	"That's not true!" she insisted.  "I called you as soon as I got 
into town.  Call home and check!  I left a message on your answering 
machine."

	Skinner glanced at the phone, but he didn't move.  "Why, Ella?
What happened?"

	"I got scared," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

	"Of me!?"  Skinner was shocked.

	"Of us," she answered.  "I woke up one morning and went into the
bathroom.  I hadn't been there in a month, but my toothbrush was hanging
next to yours.  Like it was waiting for me.  I panicked."

	Skinner's mouth twitched, but his voice was very even, "Let me get
this straight.  You left because your toothbrush scared you?"

	A half-smile crossed her face at that, but she shook her head, 
"I left because I suddenly felt like I was..."

	"Like you were what?" he asked when she didn't finish, "being 
smothered?"

	"Like I was... yours."

	Skinner looked at her in shock, there was some sadness in his
voice as he asked, "Would that really be so terrible?"

	"At the time, the thought absolutely terrified me," she responded.

	"Then why are you here now," he asked, puzzled.  "Why did you call
me?  To apologize?  Were you feeling guilty?"

	"No!  I was feeling lonely," she answered softly.  "I missed you
so much!  A few weeks ago, the thought occurred to me that my toothbrush
probably wasn't hanging there anymore.  That you'd probably thrown it 
away.  The thought scared me a lot more than the thought of it being 
there had.  I realized I had to come back.  To see you.  To apologize.  
To explain and try and get you to forgive me..." she stopped for a 
moment, then went on, "I'm crazy about you Walter Skinner."

	"And that's supposed to fix everything.  I'm supposed to open my
arms and welcome you home now," Skinner asked, sarcastically.

	"No.  I know it's not going to be that easy.  I'm going to be
working here for a couple of months.  I was just hoping we could see 
each other a little.  See if there's still any chance..."

	"Go to hell!" he said, very deliberately.  Turning on his heel,
he wrenched the door open and started out.  

	Halfway through the door, he stopped.  For a full minute neither 
of them moved.  Finally, he stepped back into the room and slammed the
door, "**FUCK**!!!" he shouted, still facing the door.  Turning around,
he said in a bewildered voice, "What do I *see* in you?"

	"I have no idea," she replied.

	At that, he chuckled and leaned back against the door.  "Dammit,
Ella..." he said softly.

	She walked toward him, hesitantly, afraid he would reject her.  He
didn't move as she came closer.  She continued walking until she was
pressing him into the door and then, raising up on tiptoe, she kissed him
tenderly.  He didn't push her away, but he didn't respond either. 

	After a moment, she moved away from his mouth, kissing and 
nibbling on his neck.  Completely passive, he let her do as she liked.  

	Giving up, she pulled away, "You're not going to make this easy
on me, are you?"

	"No," he responded.  "Why should I?"

	"Are you going to stop me?"

	He smiled at that, "No..."

	"But, you're not going to help."

	"What do you want from me," he demanded.

	"I want you to make love to me," she answered.

	"Fine," he answered, flatly.  "If that's what you want."  He 
reached for his tie.  "Take your clothes off."  He removed his tie, 
tossed it aside, pulled off his jacket and was reaching for the buttons 
on his shirt when he noticed she hadn't moved.  Trying to keep a straight 
face, he looked at her.

	"What's wrong?" he asked innocently.

	"You really are a bastard, Skinner," she commented.

	"Not exactly what you had in mind, huh?" he asked, still trying to
keep the humor out of his voice.  "How about this?"  

	With a single movement, he reached out, took her arm and swung her
around.  Turning with her, he pressed her into the door.  As he moved
against her, he reached down and tugged her leg up, guiding it over his
hip.  The entire maneuver had taken less than two seconds.  

	Smiling at her gasp of surprise, he leaned into her.

	"Better?" he growled softly.

	When she nodded, he captured her lips with his own.  As their 
kiss deepened, he reached behind her and tugged her zipper down.  Once 
her dress was open, he pushed it off her shoulders, then followed the 
material with his lips and tongue as it slid down.  Releasing the clasp 
between her breasts, he pushed her brassiere out of the way, not 
noticing when she shrugged it off and let it fall to the floor.

	Catching a nipple between his lips, he teased it gently, enjoying
her soft whimpers of desire.  Feeling her pull her leg away from him, he 
raised his head, wondering what was wrong.  She smiled, and leaned down
to push her panties off.  Realizing what she was doing, he kneeled down.
She kicked her shoes off, and he slid the tiny bit of fabric over her 
feet and dropped it.

	Leaning toward her, he nuzzled her gently, inhaling her scent.
He reached for her foot, planning to pull it onto his leg and open her
to him, but she reached down.

	"Don't," she whispered, "Please... I want you inside me."	

	Standing back up, he started to lean back into her.  She put
her hands up, holding him away.  When he held still, she moved one 
hand lower, caressing him through his slacks.  After a moment, she
lowered her other hand and quickly unfastened his slacks and freed 
him.  

	As her hand tightened on his hard shaft, he groaned and pressed
into the caress.  Unable to wait any longer, he moved back into position,
pulling her leg back over his hip and entering her slick depths with
a single motion.  

	Knowing he wouldn't last long, he reached between them and
used his fingers to stimulate her nerve center.  Sliding in and out
of her, he could feel her tighten around him with each stroke.  

	After six months apart, neither of them was interested in 
drawing this out.  At her whispered encouragements, he increased the 
speed of his movements.  After a moment, he heard her cry out and felt 
her body tense around him.  Moments later, his own release followed hers.

	The silence was broken a few moments later, by Ella's husky
chuckle.  "Mmm... God, I missed you Skinner," she whispered.

			***

Now...

	"I'm sorry," Ella whispered softly.  "I didn't mean this to 
happen."

	They'd warned her.  "Stay away from Mulder," they told her.  "It
doesn't concern you.  Stop digging, you'll only cause trouble."

	She didn't listen.  She was too determined to know the truth.  
Like Mulder...too much like Mulder... 

			***

Then...

	"What's wrong?" Ella asked.  She'd been back from Spain for a
month.  After a few days, she gave up the pretext of a hotel room and
moved her things into Walter's home.  She was going to be there for
another couple of months, still trying to fix the problems at the
Smithsonian web site.  

	"Walter, what's wrong?" she asked again when he didn't respond.

	He turned away from the window.  "Nothing..."

	"Try again," she said, gently.

	"Mulder and Scully are missing," he answered.  "There've been
reported sightings, but nothing comfirmed.  If the sightings are
accurate, Scully's driving across country with a semi-conscious Mulder 
in tow.  He's hurt or something."

	"He's hurt?"  she asked, harshly.  "How badly?"

	Ella's reaction gave Skinner a focalpoint for his frustration and
he unleashed on her.  "What is this obsession you have with Mulder?  If
you're so damned attached to him, why aren't you fucking him, instead of
me?"  He stopped, realizing what he'd just said.

	"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that," Ella said coldly.
Standing, she started to walk out of the room.

	"You're not even going to deny it, are you?"

	"Deny *what*?" she demanded, exasperated.

	"Are you in love with him?"

	"With Mulder?" she asked, stunned.  "You're kidding, right?"

	"Am I?" Skinner's voice was quiet, the anger gone.

	She waited for a moment, then sighed and went to sit back down.

	"No, Walter.  I'm not in love with Fox Mulder.  I'm just 
interested in him and concerned.  If I wanted him, why would I be with 
you?"

	"You tell me," he answered shortly. 

	"Walter..."

	"Tell me why you're so interested in him."

	"I have told you."

	"Are you using me to keep track of him?"

	For a long minute, she didn't move.  Then, she stood up and
walked out of the room.  

	Skinner sat in the living room for a while, staring at the wall 
and wondering what had just happened.  

	"I don't need this right now," he thought.  How had he gone from
worrying about Mulder to being jealous of him in the breadth of a minute?

	"Why are you doing this?" he asked himself.  Ella certainly never
gave him the impression she'd rather be with someone else.  When she'd
joined him in the shower that morning, her attention had been entirely on
him.  He smiled at the memory; it had taken five towels to dry the floor
in the bathroom afterward.

	"I'm sorry," he found her sitting on the bed a few minutes later. 

	"So am I," she answered.

	"No, you don't have any reason to be sorry," he responded, 
sitting next to her and pulling her into his arms.  "I guess I'm more 
stressed about Mulder and Scully than I realized.  I didn't mean to take 
it out on you."

	"No," she answered, pulling back until she could see his face.
"The stress didn't cause this, it just brought it out in the open.  If
you honestly feel like Mulder is a threat to you, to *us*, then I'm doing
something wrong."

	Skinner started to say something, but she stopped him.  "Let me
finish...please!"

	He nodded, waiting.

	"I've told you before, I've been fascinated by Mulder since
college.  But, my interest in him has never been romantic.  I admit,
he's good-looking.  He's got one of the nicest asses I've ever seen, but
that's it.  To be honest, I'm just not a nice enough person to put up
with Mulder's moods and paranoias," she stopped, laughing a little, then
went on, "I've honestly never been tempted to make love to the
man...boxing his ears, maybe..."

	Skinner laughed at that, "Yeah, I know the feeling.  I've been
tempted to try and knock a little sense into him myself."

	After a moment, Ella sobered, "The only reason I'm with you is
because I *want* you.  Don't ever think there's anything else involved."

	"I want you, too," he answered, reaching for her.  "I want you 
right now."

	She smiled as he started to undress her...

			***
Now...

	*Bang*Bang*Bang*

	Scully started awake.  "What the..?"

	*Bang*Bang* "Scully!!  You in there?!"
	
	Mulder.  *Damn*  Scully dragged herself out of bed, pulled on a 
robe and went to open the door.

	"This had better be good, Mulder.  This is the first sleep I've
had since Skinner got hurt."

	"Look at this, Scully," Mulder said, shoving a file folder at her.

	Glancing at the tag, she read, "Ella Trent.  What is this, 
Mulder?"

	"I pulled that out of Skinner's files," Mulder answered.  "Open 
it."

	Scully sat down and opened the file.  She glanced down the pages,
quickly, then looked at Mulder, puzzled.  "So?  I mean it's a little
tacky to have your girlfriend investigated, but..."

	"Check the date at the top," Mulder said, pointing.

	Scully read it, then looked up, shocked.  "That's the day I
regained consciousness."

	"Yeah.  Interesting, huh?  One of his agents returns from a three
month abduction and Skinner's got people out checking out his new 
ladyfriend.  Seems kind of unlikely, doesn't it."

	"Maybe he asked for the information before and the report just got
finished that day."

	"I thought of that, but if you finish reading the information,
you'll find it wasn't a coincidence."

	"What do you mean?"

	"The first time Skinner ever saw Ella Trent was in your hospital
room a few minutes before you regained consciousness.  In fact, he was
following her to the parking garage and then starting the wheels turning
to find out who she was when you woke up.

	"It's all in there.  He spoke to her several times, finally, she
admitted that she'd come to see you because she was interested in me.  I
guess we were at Oxford at the same time.  Go ahead and read it, I'll 
wait."

	A few minutes later, Scully set the file aside.  "He seemed to be
convinced she didn't have anything to do with my abduction."

	"Yeah, interesting, isn't it.  Skinner never seemed like the
gullible type."

	"It doesn't say anything about when they became lovers."

	Mulder chuckled at that, "What did you expect, 'Since she says
she's innocent, I've decided to start sleeping with her.'"

	Scully laughed, "Okay, Mulder.  So what?  They've been lovers 
for years now.  If she was up to something, don't you think it would 
have become obvious by now?"

	"Depends on what she was up to," Mulder answered, pulling a 
folded paper out of his pocket.  "Did you read the part about her being 
adopted?"

	"Yeah, so?"

	"Well, I did some checking on her parents... actually, I had the
Lone Gunmen do the checking."

	"And?" Scully asked, unsure where he was going with this.

	"The plane crash happened.  The two people who were assigned
those SSI numbers died in South East Chile, in 1972.  They had a
daughter, Eleanora Jean, too.  Trouble is, according to the record filed
with the Chilean Air Traffic Department, she was traveling with her
parents.  She died in that plane crash, too."

	Scully started to point out that the Gunmen might have made a 
mistake, then hesitated, realizing it wasn't likely.  The Gunmen
had outrageous tehory's, but their research was usually very
dependable.  "Then who is the woman Skinner's involved with?" she asked, 
finally.

	"And why is she so interested in me?"

	"Why don't we ask her?" Scully suggested.  "Just give me a minute 
to get dressed."

			 *


	"Why didn't I let it go then?"	Ella asked herself, remembering
the day they'd argued over Mulder.  "Why did I keep searching for
information?  Does it really matter anymore?"

	"Excuse me, Ms. Trent?" the ICU nurse was at the door.

	"Yes?" 

	"There's a phone call for you," the nurse said, pointing at the
phone.  

	"Thank you," Ella answered, picking up the receiver.  "Hello?" 

	"This was a warning, next time he won't survive.  Stay away from
Mulder..."  The line went dead.

	The door opened as she was hanging up the phone.

	"Ms. Trent, can we speak with you?" Mulder asked, indicating the
waiting room.

	"Ella?"  Quickly, they all turned to the man on the bed.  "Ella?"

	"Well, look who's decided to join us," Ella commented, trying to
keep the emotion out of her voice.  "Agent Mulder, would you mind telling
the nurse that her patient's regained consciousness?"

	Mulder hesitated, then stepped outside.  Scully moved to the bed
and began to check the readings on the machines Skinner's vital signs.  

	"How are you feeling, sir?" she asked.

	"Like my car blew up around me," he croaked.  "Water?"

	Scully poured some water into a cup with a straw on it.  She
held it out for him, but Ella took it from her.  "Here, love," she said,
softly.  

	The nurse and doctor ran in a moment later and it was almost an
hour before things began to calm down.  The doctor finally admitted that
Skinner was probably going to live.  They would move the Assistant 
Director out of ICU in the morning and he could probably go home in a few 
days.  With that, he made a comment about seeing to his *sick* patients, 
and left.  

	The nurse started to follow him out, but hesitated at the door, 
"Mr. Skinner needs his rest," she reminded the others.

	"We won't be long," Scully assured her.

	"Ms. Trent, we'd still like a chance to talk to you," Mulder
started.

	"Agent Mulder, now is *not* a good time," Ella responded.  

	"Please, I'd like you to step out in the waiting room," Mulder 
insisted.

	Ella shared a long look with Skinner, took a deep breath and
answered, "No, Agent Mulder.  I'm staying with Walter.  Whatever you have
to say, you can say in front of him."

	"Are you sure?" Mulder asked, raising an eyebrow.

	"What's that supposed to mean, Mulder?" Skinner demanded.  
"Please, tell me you don't think Ella had anything to do with this.  
Even you aren't that paranoid."

	"Actually, sir," Scully spoke up.  "Mulder's got some legitimate
questions to ask Ms. Trent."

	"It's all right, Walter.  He's not going to let this go until I
answer his questions."  Turning to Mulder, she asked, "How much do you 
know?"

	"We know Eleanora Jean Bronton died in the same plane crash as her
parents."

	"Really?"  Ella seemed genuinely surprised.  "I didn't know that."
Mulder raised an eyebrow, and Ella went on, "Oh, I knew I wasn't 
Eleanora, but I didn't realize she'd died in the plane crash.  Actually, 
I didn't know she even existed.  I thought the whole thing had been made 
up."

	Skinner was staring at her in shock.  "I don't understand.  
You're not Ella Trent?  Why didn't you ever tell me that?"

	"Because..." Ella was struggling, trying to explain.  "Because 
I've never told anyone.  As far as I'm concerned, I am Ella Trent.  I 
have been since I was 12 years old.  I don't know anything else."

	"Who are you really?" Mulder demanded.  

	"I don't know," Ella snapped back.

	"Are you my sister?"  

	Ella froze as the question that had been haunting her since 
college was spoken outloud for the first time.  She looked back and forth
between Mulder and Skinner, she opened her mouth to speak several times,
then closed it again.  Finally, with tears in her eyes, she answered, "I
don't know."

	Mulder wasn't going to let her off that easily, "By your own
admission, you've been watching me since college."

	In shock, Ella glanced at Skinner, then turned back to Mulder,
"How do you know that?  The only person I ever admitted that to was
Walter.  I was under the impression that you didn't know anything about
me before he was hurt and he certainly hasn't had a chance to tell you
since."

	"It was in the file he has on you," Mulder answered, too wrapped
up in his own questions to realize how Ella would react to that.

	"A file on *me*?" she demanded in an angry voice.  "You have a 
file on me?  Would you two excuse us, I'd like to talk to Walter alone."

	"Not now," Mulder answered.  "I want to know why you haven't told
me about all this before now.  You seem to be interested in my search for
my sister, why didn't you just come to me with what you knew?"

	"Because they said they'd kill you if I did," she answered, 
quietly.  There was a strength to her voice that left little doubt in any 
of their minds that she was telling the truth.

	"Besides," Ella went on,  "There's really not a lot I can tell 
you.  I don't know who I am.  I don't know whether I'm your sister, or 
just some foundling.  I don't have any idea."

	"Who arranged your background story?" Scully asked.

	"My mother," Ella answered.  "She paid some private investigator
to create a life for me."

	"Why?"

	Ella sighed and sat down in the chair next to Skinner's bed.  For
several minutes, she didn't say anything, finally she took a deep breath
and began, "I was found, unconscious, next to a country road in England
when I was about 11 or 12.  My mother, or rather, the woman who adopted 
me, found me.  When I regained consciousness, I had no memory of who I 
was or where I was from.  Once I was well enough, my mother brought me 
home and hired a private investigator to try and find out where I'd come 
from."

	"What about the police?" Skinner asked from the bed.

	"They tried, but I didn't speak for almost six months after I was
found.  It just never occurred to them that I might not have been from
England.  When I started talking again, my mother realized I was probably
American and hired the PI."

	"So, what made her stop looking for your real family and make up
a fake background for you?" Mulder asked, trying to keep the bitterness
out of his voice.

	"As soon as the investigator started digging into my background, 
he was killed and any information he'd uncovered was destroyed.  After 
the second PI was killed, my mother became afraid that I might be in 
danger if my past was discovered, so she paid to have a fake past created 
for me."

	"Then, what?" Mulder pressed, when Ella stopped speaking.

	"Then, nothing," she answered.  "I lived quite happily in England
with my adoptive mother.  When I was old enough, I went to Oxford and I
met you.  I was curious about you because you seemed to be so alone and
angry.  Since I was involved in computers, I did some checking and found
out about your past.  I don't think I have to tell you why it fascinated
me so much.

	"I almost went to you, to tell you about myself and..." her voice
trailed off.  "I guess my digging attracted some attention.  One day,
before I'd worked up my courage to confront you, a man showed up and
threatened me and *you*, if I didn't forget about it.  I was just a kid,
I got scared and backed off."

	"But, you kept track of me," Mulder prompted.

	"Yes, and when I heard Scully had disappeared, I came to see if I
could help.  I thought my business contacts might be able to turn
something up... or something.  I'm honestly not sure what I thought I was
going to do.  All I knew is I had to try and help.  By the time I got
here, Scully was back and there wasn't anything I could do.  I went to
see her..." she stopped for a minute.  "When I left, I thought she was
going to die.  I didn't know she'd recovered, until Walter told me
later."

	Scully interrupted then, "So, you really don't know if you're
Samantha Mulder or not?"

	"No," Ella answered.  "I really don't know."

	"Well, that's simple enough to determine," Scully answered
briskly.  "If you're both willing, we can have blood tests run to 
determine whether or not you're brother and sister."

	Ella hesitated, but, realizing she didn't have much choice, 
nodded.

	Scully turned to Mulder, "What about you?"

	"Where do I go?" he answered, starting to roll up his sleeve.

	Scully suppressed a smile at his eagerness, "Give me a few 
minutes to make arrangements," she answered, heading for the door.

	"How long will it take to get the results back," Ella asked, 
nervously.

	"Depends," Scully answered.  "Mulder, do you know your parents
blood types?"  Mulder nodded.  "Good, then we may be able to tell 
immediately if the blood types are completely incompatible.  Otherwise, 
it'll take some more intense screening.  That could take weeks, if not 
months.  Why?"

	"Because there are some people out there that really don't seem
to want us to find out."

	"We'll make sure you're protected," Scully answered.  

	"Like you protected Walter?" 

	"We didn't know he was in danger," Scully said tersely.  "Maybe
if you'd told us about this sooner..."  With that, she was gone.

	Mulder looked from Skinner to Ella and turned toward the door, 
"I, uh, I'm going with Scully," he said, practically running out of the 
room.

	"I guess he realized we wanted to be alone," Ella chuckled a 
little.  

	"Unusually perceptive of him," Skinner answered dryly.  "Why
didn't you tell me about this a long time ago?"

	"There wasn't much to tell."

	"Ella, please.  You knew I was curious about your interest in
Mulder.  You know how much I've laid on the line to help him.  You should
have told me."

	"I couldn't," she answered.

	"Why?!  Because I'd have realized you were using me to keep track
of him?"  Skinner shouted.  He regretted raising his voice immediately as
violent pain exploded in his head.  Wincing, he closed his eyes, then
opened them again as Ella touched his arm.

	"I would never use you like that," she said softly.

	"How can I believe that?  You've been lying to me since the day
we met,"  Skinner kept his voice quiet, suspecting his head might fall
off and roll across the room if he wasn't careful.

	Ella sighed, and sat down next to him on the bed, "I swear to you,
I never lied to you about *us*.  I didn't get involved with you because
of my interest in Mulder.  I got involved with you *in spite* of it.  It
was crazy on my part to think I could keep a relationship with you going
without the truth coming out eventually, but I had to try.  I didn't have
a choice.  I haven't had a choice since I saw you in the hospital."

	"What's that supposed to mean?" Skinner asked, confused.

	"It *means* I'm in love with you!  I tried to leave you, but I
*couldn't*!  I needed you so much, I came back, against my better
judgment."

	Skinner stared at her, without saying a word.  The silence
stretched out between them, until finally she couldn't stand it anymore,
"Say something!  Anything!"

	"I love you, too," Skinner said quietly.  After a moment, he went 
on, "Now what?"

	"I don't know," Ella looked away, gathering her thoughts.  
"They've threatened Mulder and even myself a number of times.  It's 
always been enough to get me to back off.  But, they've never threatened 
you before.  I don't know what to do.  I don't want anything else to 
happen to you.  I'm tired of feeling like my life is out of my control.  
I wish I could just make this all go away.  It's time to stop this.  If 
anything had happened to you..."

	A technician in a lab coat entered the room, "Ms. Trent?"

	"Yes?"

	"Dr. Scully asked me to take some blood to run some comparative 
genetic tests on you and Agent Mulder."

	"Yes, of course," Ella answered.  "Can you do it here?"

	"Yes, ma'am," he answered, setting the kit he was carrying down.

	After the blood was drawn, the technician ran some simple tests.
Turning to Ella, finally, he said, "According to your blood types, you
and Agent Mulder are not brother and sister."

	Ella swallowed, carefully.  "I see, thank you."

	The technician stood up to leave, but hesitated at the door. "Ms.
Trent?"  Ella turned her head.  "Is it possible you could have different
fathers?  I mean the same mother, but different fathers?"

	"Why?  Would that be consistent with our bloodtypes?"

	"Yes, ma'am.  Or the same fathers and different mothers, but
you'd, uh, well that's a little harder to keep secret," he looked
embarrassed.

	Ella and Skinner shared a long look.  Finally, Ella answered the
technician, "I don't think that's likely."  After a moment she smiled, "I
wouldn't make that suggestion to Agent Mulder.  He might not appreciate
the implied insult to his mother."

	"Yes, ma'am," the technician answered, blushing with
embarrassment.  "I won't say anything."

	A few minutes later, Mulder and Scully came back into the room. 

	"The results from the blood test say you are not brother and
sister," Scully informed Ella.

	"I know," she answered.  "He told me."

	"Then, why the *hell* are those bastards so interested in her?"
Mulder demanded in frustration.  "It doesn't make any sense."

	"Maybe she was intended to be a 'red herring', to throw you off
the trail if you found her," Scully suggested.

	"Are you suggesting they stole another little girl at the same
time, hoping we'd follow the wrong trail?"  Mulder asked, horrified.

	"Nothing those bastards do would surprise me," Skinner put in.

	Mulder shook his head in disbelief, "I hope you're wrong, Scully.
But if you're not, I hope she's the only one..."

	After a moment, Mulder asked Ella, "What are you going to do now?"

	"Get him well," she responded, nodding at Skinner.  

	"And then?"

	"What do you mean?" 

	"Are you going to keep trying to find out who you are?"

	Ella looked at Skinner and smiled, "I know who I am."

	Skinner smiled, and took her hand for a moment.  Turning to
Mulder, he asked, "What about you?"

	"I don't know, sir.  I guess I'll go back to work...and keep
looking for my sister."

	"What if she doesn't want to be found?" Ella asked gently.

	Mulder just shook his head and left without answering.  Scully
hesitated for a moment, started to speak, stopped and followed Mulder out
the door.

	When they were gone, Ella settled back down next to Skinner.

	"Are you sure about this?" Skinner asked. 

	"Yes," she answered.  "I'm sure."

	"Come here, then," he said, holding out his arm.

	"I'm afraid you'll break," she answered, with a catch in her 
voice.

	"I'm okay," he assured her.  "My head feels like it got hit with 
a sledgehammer, but other than that, it's just bumps and bruises."

	Silently, the tears she'd been holding back for days began to
slide down her cheeks.  With a soft sob, she laid her head on his chest.
Wrapping his arms around her, Skinner held her as she cried.

			  	*****

-- 
Franki Tollefson				 jimt@halcyon.com
HLLLion             

Total avoidance is a perfectly valid coping mechanism!