Title: Secret No More NC-17 Author: Kristen K2 Summary: Sequel to Secret Admirer. You should probably read that one first. Skinner's got a dilemma, and he gets help from unexpected sources. Heavy schmoop alert. If Mulder and Scully can have a baby, why can't Skinner be happy, too? Legal Disclaimer: Nobody in this story (hail, hail, the gang's all here) belongs to me, except Emma and Jack. I just borrowed them for a little bit. Category: Skinner/Kim romance; Skinner POV; MSR and baby-fic (hey, it was CC's idea) Spoilers: All up to Requiem, including Avatar. In this story, there's no Doggett, and Mulder came back unharmed. Notes: After reading countless fanfics, I have to say the idea of Kimberly fascinates me, probably because she's only partially sketched on the show, and therefore easily malleable into a fuller character in a story. As the one person in the FBI who has a close-up, everyday view of Skinner, in my mind, she's got the best chance of seeing the man behind the official AD title. Feedback: Sure, I hope I can handle it! E-mail Address: K2_fanfic@yahoo.com Rating: NC-17 or a very strong R For the life of him, Walter Skinner could not figure out what was behind his hesitation. Every morning for the past ten months, he awoke and wondered if he would be able to wipe the doofus grin off his face before his first meeting of the day. There had been many days in which he'd been unsuccessful in reaching that goal. Not that he worked that hard at it, but still, it bothered him once in a while. If he couldn't stop smiling, then his secret was bound to be uncovered, and the life he'd created with Kimberly and Emma might have to change. He wasn't prepared for that eventuality yet. And he had no idea why not. He was deliriously, embarrassingly happy because of them, and knew it would only take one small question to upgrade that to sheer bliss. Yet every time his mind edged around the thought, his stomach twisted into knots and he quickly focused on another subject. Even now, sitting on a plane returning back to DC from a week-long meeting in San Francisco, the beginnings of panic were stirring in his chest, but he pushed them aside to devote a little time to concentrate on the situation, and the possible cause of his reticence. The plane wasn't going to land for some time, he'd caught up on all the paperwork in his briefcase, and his size prevented him from fully stretching out and taking a short nap. Chuckling to himself, he realized that if he'd ever told Kimberly how tight the leg space was in business class, she'd have upgraded him to first class years ago. Probably a good thing he hadn't, then; his travel expenses bordered on excessive already. She spoiled him rotten. Checking his watch, he saw he had a full sixty minutes of nothing to do, a rarity for him. He might as well take advantage of it. Being the organized, detail-laden man he was, he took out a pad of paper from his briefcase and brain-stormed a list of possible explanations. The character trait had served him well as he moved up the ladder in his career, so perhaps it would aid him in his personal life as well right now. He'd told Kimberly when they'd first gotten together that he wasn't very astute when it came to understanding himself, and he'd been correct about that. But this situation called for insight, so he needed to sort out his feelings. And soon. When his list was complete, he leaned back and considered them individually. 1. Fear of probable career suicide That was a distinct possibility. In the twenty-plus years he'd been with the FBI, he'd seen many of his colleague's careers go down in flames once their affairs with a subordinate became known. The task force in the Office of Professional Review would be thrilled to finally have the ammunition to destroy him that they'd been looking for; he'd butted heads with them too many times to consider them allies. On the other hand, Mulder and Scully were still partners, despite having had a baby together, and nothing had happened to them. Walter had no idea how they'd escaped detection and censure, and he hadn't asked. To do so was tantamount to admitting he knew about their relationship, and while he was close to them, even verging on becoming friends, he'd never crossed that line. If he knew, then if and when the OPR did conduct an investigation, he'd be the first witness on their hit list. His deliberate ignorance spared him the necessity of a lie. He was certain that his relationship with Kimberly hadn't gone unnoticed by the rest of the staff either, although, like Mulder and Scully, both of them took great pains to maintain their professionalism during working hours. They were as discreet as possible, no quickies in his office (which he had considered -- and sadly rejected -- more than once), no two-hour lunches in plush hotel suites, and certainly no stolen kisses by the copier. But he knew that it was futile; Kimberly wore the same delighted grin he did every morning. Since neither of them had been footloose and carefree people in the past, their thinly veiled glee had to have raised eyebrows from the mailroom to the Attorney General's office. But not a word was ever said, and for that Walter was grateful. 2. Fear of public scrutiny and humiliation Another likely cause. He was a private man, and the idea of everyone knowing his business was abhorrent. After all, hadn't he kept his last marriage hidden from prying eyes for as long as possible? The only person who'd known he was married back then had been Kimberly, and he hadn't told her until she'd been working for him for nearly two years. In fact, if he remembered correctly, it wasn't until she'd informed him she was pregnant that he'd confessed his marital status. How one topic had led to the other, he still wasn't sure. He'd known that she was living with someone, but hadn't been all that surprised when she'd tearfully said he'd moved out after she revealed her condition. The guy had been an editorial photographer for the Associated Press, always out of town on assignment, and Walter had known instantly, as soon as he'd met him one night when he picked Kimberly up after work, that he wasn't the type to settle down and raise a family. But he'd kept his opinions to himself, and when the asshole took off, as he'd anticipated, Walter tried to help her as much as she would allow. The combination of her stubborn pride and their then work-only relationship made that difficult at the time. Even now, Kimberly continued to resist his offers of assistance, thinking mistakenly that she and Emma were somehow a burden to him, but he'd been working hard at convincing her otherwise, and he was making great strides with that. Sighing, he re-focused his thoughts on the matter at hand, and glanced back at the list. The risk of public humiliation could also be a factor. Falling in love with your secretary, who was also almost half your age, was such a clich Walter winced every time he realized what he'd done. The jibes he would have to endure once they went public were going to be brutal. He could hear Kersch already, asking him if he was planning on buying a cherry-red Porsche too, to complete the ghastly picture of a stereotypical middle-age crisis. And it made him angry when he let himself think about Kimberly that way. What they had was much more than a casual fling, or a feeble attempt to recapture his youth. He loved her deeply, and she him. Slowly but surely, they had built a life together, one of which he was infinitely proud. And yet, the understanding he was going to be the brunt of everyone's jokes stuck in his craw. 3. Unwillingness to raise another man's child Since it was patently false, Walter wasn't even sure why he'd put it on the list. He was nearly as crazy about Emma as he was about her Mommy. She was a sweet, bright, effervescent child, with an unlimited curiosity about how the world worked, and the most adorable peal of laughter he'd ever heard. Well before he'd accidentally bumped into them that first time in the toy store, he'd wondered what she was like. His niece had been born about the same time, and Walter often found himself comparing the two during family holidays; the stories Kimberly had told him about her daughter utterly fascinated him. But Susan, his niece, was a shy, timid child, as unlike the little girl that Kimberly described as night was from day. He'd been dying to actually meet Emma for years, and when he had, the connection between them was immediate, and powerful. Now that almost a year had passed, it had only grown stronger as time progressed. And if he could figure out why he was reluctant to ask Kimberly to marry him, then he could find the way to ease his unexplainable tension, and quit fighting what every cell in his body craved to happen. He would become Emma's stepfather, and Kimberly's husband. The idea of taking on both roles filled him with a profound sense of joy. He looked at the last item on his list, and laughed. Had he actually written that down? 4. Fear of commitment Hardly. He knew enough about himself to see that as outrageously untrue. If anything, he was *too* committed to things. Hadn't he insisted on finishing his tour of duty in Nam, even after almost being killed? Hadn't he stuck with a marriage that had fallen apart years before the divorce? Hadn't he thrown himself fully into the X Files, risking permanent damage to his body and soul, until the battle was won? Yes, yes and yes. He had the scars, both physical and emotional, to prove his willingness to commit to his beliefs. And it wasn't a case of fear of committing to another marriage vow, either. Deep down, he was an old-fashioned man, and he need only look at how their personal relationship had evolved for proof of that. He had wooed Kimberly with flowers and poetry, and he'd fallen in love with her over a hot fudge sundae. Like Mickey Rooney and Judy Garland in those old black-and-white movies she liked to watch, he laughed to himself. Of course, since then, they didn't really date, at least not in the normal sense of dating. The combination of both their over- loaded work schedules and raising Emma made that impractical. Unless Emma stayed at her grandma's, they spent the night at Kimberly's, not his place. She'd only been to his apartment a handful of times since they'd gotten together. Not that he minded; the impersonal, sterile environment at his Crystal City complex had always seemed like a stopgap to him, a temporary residence while he figured out what he was going to do, post-divorce. The fact he'd been living there for over five years now bothered him a great deal. And Kimberly was as old-fashioned in her values as he was. She'd joked about it that first night, but in reality it had taken her months before she permitted him to be there in the morning when Emma woke up, and he'd understood her hesitation. She'd told him she hadn't had any lovers since Emma had been born, and she didn't want to confuse her daughter. To a then-five year old, men who were there at the breakfast table and who kissed their mommies, were supposed to be daddies. And Walter wasn't. But eventually they had settled into a comfortable pattern of dinner after work at her house, then some quiet time together once the little one was down for the night. Even now, though, Kimberly only let him stay over two nights during the week, and two nights of the weekend. Walter got the distinct impression that unless he asked her to be his wife, those four nights were all he was going to get. On the weekends, they did things as a threesome, going to the park or teaching Emma how to ride her bike. Family things, that Walter enjoyed far more than he could express. He didn't miss dating at all, and he suspected she didn't either. Which made sense to him; they were both nesters, people who felt most at ease within the confines of routines and family life. Since his divorce, Walter had felt out of his element; single life, after seventeen years of marriage, had been a draining and hideous lifestyle. He was a man who liked being somebody's husband. And despite her official U.S. Census status as an unwed mother, he knew that Kimberly very much wanted the same thing. Not that she would admit it, because she didn't want to appear needy, but it was there. Everything about her screamed commitment and stability. It was what had drawn him to her in the first place, he could see in hindsight. They were two very similar people, and people like them didn't have affairs. They got married and raised families. It was simple, and basic, and as outdated as it might seem in this day and age, that's just who they were. So what the hell was stopping him from asking her? "Sir?" a female voice broke into his thoughts, and Walter looked up to see a blond flight attendant standing over him. "We're about to land. Please fasten your seat belt." Grinning, he put away the pad of paper and did as requested. Kimberly and Emma were going to meet him at the airport, a first for them, and he couldn't wait to see them again. The week away had been six of the longest days of his life. Once he disembarked, it took about five seconds to spot their two shining heads of strawberry-blond hair hovering in the back of the waiting crowd of greeters. Over the years, she'd experimented with many colors and styles, but apparently she'd decided she liked this color and length best. Frankly, Walter had liked them all, but he agreed with her choice; the red brought out the faint sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her nose, and made her skin glow. And until he'd laid eyes on her daughter, he'd never even known it was her natural shade. Emma started wriggling on her hip as he approached, waving to him madly, and he tousled her hair and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek when he got close enough. Kimberly was more reluctant to indulge in public displays of affection, so he resisted the urge to pull her into his arms. That would be for later, when they got home. Instead he gave her a look, skimming a finger along her jaw, and watched as her cheeks turned a faint pink. He still couldn't get over how easily she got ruffled from receiving well-deserved attention, even after all that he gladly lavished on her. It didn't stem from lack of self-esteem, as had been his fear in the beginning; he realized now that the blush came from the way *he* made her feel. He made her as hot, and as acutely aware of every inch of her body, as she made him. If he had ever guessed that underneath her sensible and quiet manner at work lay such a sensual, arousing woman, Walter would have taken that first step toward her years before Mulder had confronted him. They made small talk as they headed down to baggage claim, Emma skipping between them, holding each of their hands tightly. She had a million questions about the plane, and Walter rapidly found himself engrossed in describing what it was like to be up in the sky, what clouds looked like up-close, while they waited for his luggage. He was so involved in his explanation, that he didn't see the woman watching the three of them with a satisfied expression on her face until she cleared her throat. "Hello, Walter," Sharon said, and Walter looked up to see his ex-wife. was his first thought, her dark hair pulled back in a classy chignon, and her clothes were well-cut and expensive. Her new husband must be doing well with his art gallery. "Sharon. It's good to see you again," he replied honestly. "Coming home after a vacation?" Her tan made the question superfluous, but he asked anyways. "Yes. St. John's is beautiful this time of year, if you recall. And you?" "Work," he said, and she gave him a knowing smile. Then her eyes shifted over to Kimberly, and her look grew strangely warm. "Kim, it's good to see you again." Walter looked between the two women in mute amazement. "You, too, Mrs. Skinner," Kimberly answered, directing her entire focus on her, ignoring Walter. "This is my daughter Emma. Say hello to Mrs. Skinner, sweetheart." Emma looked confused, but did as told. Although she called him Walter now, she knew his last name was Skinner. Sharon seemed comfortable during the exchange, informing her that her name was Mrs. Thompson now, but Kimberly grew increasingly anxious. After a few pleasantries, she glanced over at him, not meeting his eyes. "We're going to get the car while you wait for your bag, *sir*. We'll wait for you outside. Look for a red Honda Civic." With that, she bolted, scooping up Emma and heading for the exit. The whole thing happened so fast Walter didn't have time to process it, let alone stop her. When she was gone, he turned back to Sharon, who was giving him a thoughtful look. Continuing the ruse Kim had begun, he said, "She offered to pick me up after my trip." His ex-wife smiled. "I think it's wonderful, Walter. You deserve a little happiness. Kim's a treasure. And her daughter fits the bill, don't you agree?" He was slightly baffled. Their divorce had been as amicable as their marriage, once she'd recovered from the car accident, but they'd ceased contact after her re-marriage, a year or two after the final papers were signed. Which he'd missed; he and Sharon had been much better friends than spouses. They'd had different goals in life, and different needs. Neither had been able, despite their best efforts, to be the person each wanted the other to be. But he didn't know what to make of her comment about Emma, or Kimberly. Sighing, because he knew that she had seen what Kim tried to deny, he said, "Nothing ever happened while we were married, Sharon." She laughed. "Oh, please, Walter. I know that. I know you too well." he thought. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted his garment bag coming around on the carousel. Deftly, he lifted it between two other people waiting for their luggage to appear. Sharon gave another laugh when she saw the bag, part of the set she'd bought him many Christmases ago. "It may be time for you to get rid of your old baggage," she remarked. Then she patted him on the cheek, in a gesture of farewell. "I'm happy for both of you. All three of you, in fact. Now get going before Kim starts to get nervous. She worries enough about you." The mood on the car ride home was subdued. Even Emma was unnaturally quiet. Walter didn't know how to approach the questions looming in his mind, so he shelved them, and tried unsuccessfully to catch Kimberly's eye. She studiously avoided his gaze. Once he'd put Emma to bed, he went looking for her in the house, determined to discuss the encounter tonight, and not put it off any longer. They had a full weekend ahead of them, including a barbecue at her mother's, and he didn't want to ruin it with any tension between them. He found her in the kitchen, washing dishes. Deciding the direct approach was the best, he asked, "When did you meet Sharon?" She shrugged, and buried her hands in the soapy water of the sink, her face cast down to the chore in front of her. "I brought her flowers in the hospital after her accident. I just wanted to make sure she was okay." Of course she did. Everyone else's comfort ranked far above her own. Lifting his hips off the counter where he'd been leaning, he wrapped his arms around her waist from behind. She didn't curl back into his embrace, remaining stiff against him. Nuzzling her ear, he whispered, "I love *you*, Kimberly. Don't ever doubt that." "I know. I love you too," she answered, relaxing a fraction. "I just-- felt out of place." "You shouldn't have. I wish you'd stayed, instead of taking off like that. I was about to tell her--" "I hope you didn't," she interrupted. "It wouldn't have been right." Turning her chin with his index finger so he could look at her, he was stunned by the tears in her eyes. "She already knew, honey. And she was happy for us. She and I have moved on, and what we shared is in the past. You're my present, and my future." "Walter-" she sighed, and he wasn't sure what was still upsetting her. Then she exhaled shakily. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have over-reacted. It was weird, but seeing you two together, I--I felt like the other woman." Claiming a deep kiss, he didn't pull away until he felt her body relax completely. "You're the *only* woman, Kimberly," he whispered to her, and kissed her again. When that noise from the back of her throat sounded, the one he knew so well, the one that meant she was losing all focus except for the feel of his mouth on hers, he released her from his embrace, from his lips and his hands, in one rapid motion. Pulling his head away so he could glimpse the dazed arousal in her eyes, he wasn't disappointed. "Hey! Come back here." Thrusting his hands into the soapy water with hers, he laughed and nudged her closer to the sink. "Let's finish the dishes first. Think of it as foreplay." Joining in on his laughter, she pushed her body back against his, teasing him with her hips. Her hands found his under the water, and held. "Like this?" he thought as he ground back into her. He was as hard as a rock within seconds. So he gave up, and spun her toward him, scooped her up by the ass and carried her into the bedroom, their arms dripping soap. He intended to show her exactly how much he loved her. And their life went on, together. Emma graduated from kindergarten, and Kimberly took the afternoon off to go to the ceremony at her school. Walter put the picture of her, in her little tasseled cap and diploma in hand, in his wallet, and took them all out to the movies to celebrate. Then groaned along with Kimberly as they listened to her unending monologue about how cool Ariel was, and how she wanted to be a mermaid when she grew up. Thank God he hadn't taken her to see 'Plan 9 from Outer Space', he thought. He had enough of hearing about that one from Mulder. About a week later, she came down with an early summer cold which was going around her day-care, and Kimberly promptly fell victim to the same bug. By the end of the week, after dealing with a temp who somehow managed not only to erase all the spreadsheets on his computer, but also sent twenty-five emails that were supposed to go to the Section Chiefs across the country instead to the Attorney General directly, Walter could not wait to get Kimberly back in his office on Monday. He would blow her nose for her at her desk if she still wasn't feeling well. "Sir?" he heard Agent Scully call to him down in the parking lot, as he headed to his car that night. Sighing, he turned to see her walking toward him with a plastic Thermos in her hand. She'd come back from maternity leave not long ago, jumping right back into the swim of things easily. And she'd had a lot of help from an unexpected source: Kim. Kimberly and Scully had started to become pretty good friends sometime last fall, but it had cemented after little Melissa Samantha had been born back in the early spring. There had been a lot of late-night phone calls from Scully, asking whether or not it was normal to be feeding her every half-hour, or if the wailing screech both of them could hear through the receiver meant anything ominous. Walter never imagined that Dana Scully would be so overprotective and unsure of her own instincts, but Kimberly kept telling him it was just new-mommy jitters. She insisted that she'd been worse, and Walter had to admit she was probably right. He remembered during the first year after Emma's birth, when she'd taken an excessive number of personal days -- not that he'd begrudged her the time -- and had been on the phone with her own mother at least two or three times a day, before she got the hang of it. And just look at her now, he marveled. Dispensing advice like a pro. "What can I do for you, Agent Scully?" he asked politely. What he really wanted was to get home and check up on his two sick patients, but work was work. She handed him the Thermos with a shy look. "I wanted to, ah, give Kim some chicken soup. It's my mother's recipe, and it always helps when Mulder or I get sick." Walter stared at her, not sure what he should say. In the same way that he purposely avoided inquiring about Mulder and Scully's living arrangements, they had done the same with him and Kimberly. He made sure not to answer the phone when he was at her house, to avoid any awkward moments with Scully. Like the one before him now. "I'm sure she'll appreciate it," he said carefully. "I'll drop it off on my way home." Scully tilted her head, obviously confused. She said, "Thanks. Please ask her if there's anything she needs Mulder or I to do while she's ill. We certainly owe her enough." "I think Kim enjoys helping you with Melissa. It reinforces what her mother taught her." "Oh, no, I didn't mean for that, although I do appreciate her advice," she said, laughing. "I meant about the OPR." "I'm sorry?" he queried, completely lost. "You know, how she got them to cease their investigation into Mulder and--" she stopped, frowning. "I thought you already knew this, sir." Walter shook his head no. "Please continue, Dana." He used her first name deliberately, so she would understand that whatever she was about to say would remain between them. Dana Scully paused, then grinned at him, openly grinned. "Last fall, Kim told Mulder he didn't have to worry about the OPR finding out about us, or doing anything if they did. She said it was a thank-you for something he'd done for her, which I didn't understand. But I was extremely grateful, none the less. That's actually when we started becoming friends, she and I. You don't mind, do you, sir?" "Not at all," he answered, his own grin plastered to his face, and took the Thermos from her still-extended hand. He was planning on having a little talk with Kimberly as soon as he got this soup into her. Who the hell did she know in the OPR with that kind of power? The house was quiet when he came in, using his key. A quick peek in Emma's room told him she was out like a light, the humidifier muffling her snoring. Kimberly was also resting in her bedroom, but she opened her eyes immediately when she heard him enter. "Hi," she said drowsily. He leaned over her, drinking in the sight of her and checking her forehead temperature with his lips. Cooler than yesterday, indicating her fever broke, and her eyes were much less glassy, so he figured his diagnosis was correct. She was sprawled face-down on top of the comforter, wearing a pale blue t-shirt and a pair of plaid flannel pajama bottoms. Despite the truckloads of silk lingerie he'd bought her since they'd gotten together, she preferred wearing less-revealing outfits at home, especially when she was sick or while Emma was awake. Practical down to her fingertips, and still as sexy as hell, he mused. One of the many qualities he loved about her. Her golden red hair fanned across the pillow, and he brushed a strand gently off her neck. "Hi, yourself. How's the cold coming?" "Almost gone. What are you doing here?" "Scully sent soup. And where else would I be tonight, silly girl. It's Friday, you know, and sick or not, I'm staying with you. Do you want me to go heat some of it up?" "Mmmm--please," she replied, smiling into her pillow. She was a lot more alert when he came back in with the bowl of soup, asking him about his day as she slurped it up, and he began to undress. Shaking her head at his woeful tales of the temp from hell, she placed the empty bowl on her night stand, and crawled over to where he sat, pulling off his shoes. He leaned back against her as her hands slid around front to undo his tie. "You sure you're not worried about catching my cold?" she murmured against his neck. He would be willing to catch bubonic plague from her, as long as she kept touching him the way she was. "I'm sure," he said, his breath catching as her hands slid down into his half-opened shirt, stroking his chest and burying her fingers in his mat of hair. "Good," she giggled. "Because you're about to learn something very interesting about me." "What's that?" Another giggle, then a nip at his earlobe. "Chicken soup makes me horny." END PART 1 of 2 PART 2 of 2 She wasn't kidding, he thought a short while later, when they were rolling around on the bed, both deliciously naked and kissing as if there was no tomorrow. Her skin seemed much warmer than normal, but his concern for her health soon got lost in the madness of her desire. Every touch he bestowed on her set off a round of shivers, every kiss made her whimper in pleasure. They'd made love many, many times, sometimes slow, sometimes fast, but never like this. Walter felt like he was being sucked into a tornado of limbs and kisses and heat. He could barely keep up with her, but he sure as hell was going to try. She pushed him back against the mattress, pressing her hands on his chest. Her mouth was all over him, tugging his nipples between her lips until he groaned, licking a wet path along his ribs, and, without warning, taking his erection down her throat in one fluid motion. "Kimberly," he gasped, and she looked up at him, her eyes blazing. He nearly exploded right then. She released him, then ran her tongue around the tip, before swallowing him again, this time at a much slower pace. Teasing him mercilessly, she flattened her tongue along the length, drawing him deeply inside her hot, wet mouth. His hands were on her head, encouraging her, before he knew what he was doing. When he knew he was within a heartbeat of coming, he pulled her off and shifted her legs so she straddled him at the waist. The length of his erection rubbed along her wet folds as she leaned down to kiss him. Tangling tongues, he slid up into her, and held onto her hips firmly as she shuddered her way down his aching erection. Forget foreplay, neither one of them needed it now. They just needed each other. "Ride," he commanded, and she gave him a brilliant smile as she obeyed. She rode him hard and fast and well, as he bucked up to meet her thrusts, desperate to keep up with her manic pace. Much sooner than he anticipated, he felt her clench around him as the beginnings of her orgasm shivered through her body. When she lolled her head back, her eyelids dropping heavily and her lips lustily parting, a perfect round drop of sweat rolling down between her cleavage, he thought he'd never seen her look more beautiful. It was the last coherent thought he had for quite some time, as his orgasm ripped through him, causing a chain reaction as she came again, draining his body and his brain bone dry. Much later, she rested on his chest while he rubbed her head. When she was tired or sick, a two-handed scalp massage made all her aches and pains fade. Walter enjoyed it as much as she did, since he loved touching her just about anywhere, and he really loved hearing her purr in delight when he did. So he decided her state of whacked-out contentment should be used to his advantage; she couldn't think straight when his hands were buried in her hair. "Mmm--don't stop," she murmured as he slowed the steady pressure of his fingers. "On one condition." "Name it." Plucking her head off its resting place on his chest, he cradled her face in his hands. "Tell me about the favor you did for Mulder, Kimberly. The one involving the OPR." She smiled shyly. "I figured since he prompted you to be my secret admirer, the least I could do was help him be happy too. I don't really indulge in gossip at work, but I know someone who does. So I asked this person--" "Who?" "Can't tell you that, Assistant Director Skinner," she teased. "I don't want them to get in trouble with the boss." He gave her his hard-ass, I'm-in-charge glare, but she only laughed. "Anyways, this person gave me a little inside information about somebody on the OPR task force committee. Apparently, J. Edgar wasn't the only closet cross-dresser to work at the Bureau. So I went to the man, and told him to lay off Mulder and Scully, or everybody would find out he liked fishnet stockings a little more than was healthy." he thought, dazed and rather proud. "You blackmailed him?" "Well, that's a little harsh, but yeah, I guess I did. My thinking was, who is he to destroy people's careers just because they're in love? It's not as if any of the people in the OPR are pure as the driven snow. His secret is proof of that. Besides, I read somewhere that 40% of all couples meet at work. It happens all the time, not just at the Bureau." "And a lot of careers do get ruined because of it," he said, thinking of the many men he'd seen head back down the ladder for just that. "I've seen it happen more than once." She looked at him thoughtfully for a long minute. "It won't happen to you, Walter, if that's what's worrying you." She kissed the cleft in his chin. "I'm sorry. I would have told you sooner if I'd known it was upsetting you this much." When the question forming on his lips caused a violent flapping of butterflies in his stomach, Walter wanted to kick himself for his cowardice. What was the matter with him? She'd handed him the perfect opportunity to ask her, and without repercussions at work. But he couldn't get his mouth around the words, so he asked a different question, one which he knew fully well the answer. "How did you know it was worrying me?" She stroked his forehead, her thumb rubbing between his eyebrows. "The lines here as about as deep as the Grand Canyon, honey. Your face is a roadmap of your emotions." Chuckling, he rolled them so she lay on her back, and he leaned next to her, curling her against him. She had a matching worried crease between her eyebrows, and her mouth was turning down at the corners, as it always did when she was over-tired. She wasn't the only one who'd studied facial expressions in the office for years. "So is yours, my love. Now go to sleep. And thank you." She gave him a drowsy smile, and snuggled into him, quickly dropping off into slumber. Walter stayed awake for a long time, mulling over the conversation. Her informant had to be Holly, he surmised. He knew all about the Communications clerk's penchant for gossip, and that he had been the target for quite some time. Kim's approaching her had to be the reason for the lack of more vocal speculation since they'd gotten together; once Holly realized he was off the market, she'd crossed him off her list of eligible men. And the amazing woman in his arms had mostly likely known that would happen when she did it. She understood office politics as well as he did. Her move had had multiple benefits; not only had she shut down the source of talk, but she'd saved Mulder's, Scully's and his careers from certain ruin, so they could continue their work. Walter wasn't angry at all that she'd blackmailed whomever it was; impressed was more like it. Awed. He fell asleep trying to picture which of the task force members like to dress up in women's clothes, smiling as he did. On Thursday of the following week, in the middle of one of the most God- awful boring meetings of his life, Sharon's cryptic words at the airport suddenly popped into his consciousness. In what way did she mean that Emma fit the bill? And what kind of baggage did he still have left? He stewed over it whenever he had a free minute over the course of the next several days, until finally he gave up and called her. It was one of his nights that he was stuck in Crystal City, and the reports in his lap weren't taking his mind off what Kimberly might be doing at home. To his surprise, Sharon wanted to meet him in person, so within an hour, he found himself sitting in a coffeehouse a few blocks from her townhouse in Georgetown. The place was fairly quiet, with only a few college kids talking in a corner, and a pair of older men playing chess. They ordered their coffees, and Walter looked her over as they waited. Her tan was beginning to fade from lack of sun; it had been excessively rainy lately. But her outfit was smart and casual, crisp tan slacks and a red silk blouse. "So, what did you want to ask me?" she inquired, and he smiled at the return of her forthrightness. During their marriage, especially at the end as he got more and more involved in the X Files, she'd stopped probing him directly about what was troubling him, and finally gave up altogether. Not that he blamed her; he couldn't put any of what he'd gone through into words, not then or now. One of the many things he liked about being with Kimberly was that he didn't have to explain; she'd been a hundred feet from his desk during everything, and knew exactly what had and hadn't occurred. "To be honest, I'm not sure," he said truthfully. "You said some things the other day, and they've been gnawing at me." "About Emma?" Walter looked at her, amazed. How did she--of course she knew exactly what he'd meant. They'd been friends for years before they got married, and they'd been married a long time. She probably knew him better than he knew himself. "Yes." Sipping her coffee, she eyed him carefully over the rim. "How long have you and Kim been together now?" "Almost a year." At her lifted eyebrow, he said, "What?" "And you haven't married her yet? What on earth is stopping you, Walter?" It only by the grace of God that he managed not to choke on his coffee. She'd nailed it right on the head. "I really don't know, Sharon. Maybe that's why I wanted to talk to you," he said slowly. Smiling, she patted his hand. "Are you feeling guilty because you want to marry a woman who can give you the children you've always wanted?" She laughed at his open-mouthed expression. "Walter, you shouldn't beat yourself up about it. I know you wanted them, and I'm sure you still do. It's okay, I don't feel hurt or betrayed by it." "That wasn't why I closed myself off from you, you know." "I know. But let me give you my perspective on the subject, okay? We never really talked about it much. To be honest, I was a little relieved when the doctor told us I couldn't conceive. Back then, you were working in the field, not at a desk like you are now, and we both know you were often in some very dangerous situations. The thought of you dying weighed heavily on my mind. Plus, you worked such long hours, that when we were together, I wanted to focus on us. But most of all, and this was the most important factor, I just didn't see myself as a mother. As a wife, as an artist, sure. But a Mommy?" She gave a small shake of her head. "Not for me. I'll bet Kim makes a great one, though." "She does," he admitted, an unconscious smile lifting the corner of his mouth. "It didn't matter to me that we couldn't, though. I--" "Walter," she interjected, taking his hand in hers, "*I* can't. But you can. And since that's what you want, then I think that you should. Do you want to know when I realized that you still wanted kids?" "Please." It was clear she'd seen right through his self-delusion on this topic anyway; as expected, she did know him better than he did. "When you told me that your secretary was pregnant. You were so worried about her health, if she could handle raising a baby alone, all of it. For the briefest moment, I mistakenly thought she was having your child. But I knew that wasn't the case," she continued, quelling his protests, "because I realized you were living the experience vicariously through her stories. That, with Emma's birth, you were able to find out what it was like to be a parent, even from a distance." He'd never considered it from that perspective, but he had to admit she had a valid point. He didn't have any problem with raising another man's child, because somewhere in the back of his head, Emma was *his*. Sharon watched him absorb her comments, then patted his hand again. "She loves you very much, you know." "Who, Emma?" he asked, absently stirring his coffee. "Kim," his ex-wife said. "She has for years." That got his attention. "What do you mean?" "Did she ever tell you she came to see me in the hospital?" "Not until after we bumped into you at the airport," he admitted. "Did she tell you why?" "To make sure you were okay," he answered, not sure where this was going. Sharon gave him a fond smile. "To make sure *you* were. She was so worried about you, said that you were very upset about what had happened. She didn't come right out and say it, but she practically begged me to get back together with you." What? God, Kimberly -- trying to take care of him yet again, he realized. How had he been so blind for so long? He rubbed his forehead, letting all of this sink in. His ex-wife continued softly, "That's when I saw how much she loved you, although I don't think she realized it at the time. And that you could open up to her, in a way you couldn't with me. I heard what you said to me, that night in the hospital, about how difficult your work was. But by then, it was too late for us, Walter. But it's not too late for you," she said insistently. "Don't let happiness slip through your fingers out of some misplaced sense of guilt. I'm very content with my life, and you need to move on too." Walter lifted her hand, and kissed it gently. "Thank you, Sharon." After that, he started to plan. He wanted the moment to be romantic, and memorable, for Kimberly; if he did it right, it would the only time anyone would ever propose to her. So it had to be perfect. He considered, and discarded, multiple ideas. She wasn't the type of woman who liked upscale bistros, as he had learned after taking her out to lunch a couple of years ago, and he already sent her flowers regularly now. And while they were in bed together, or even having dinner with Emma around the kitchen table, was too private. The only way he was going to dispel the final objection in his mind was if he did it boldly, out in the open, for the whole world to see. To show both himself, and her, that what they shared was incredible enough to be put on display in public. To his surprise, Kimberly still balked every time he tried to show his affection for her while they were out, and especially in the office. She sidled quickly away from him at the slightest gesture, even a hand on the small of her back, and gave him a dark warning look. And she refused to discuss it when they got home. "It's not right," she said over and over. So he realized he was going to have to ease her into the idea that yes, it was right, and natural, and necessary. Finally, he hit upon the ideal location. It was perfect, because it reflected their relationship, who they were and how they'd begun, and as a side benefit, would include Emma. The ice cream shop where he finally recognized he was in love with her. He'd propose to her over a hot fudge sundae, maybe even quote the poem he'd sent her then. But when he checked his electronic schedule to make sure they'd be free on Saturday, he had to bite back a groan. he thought miserably, then brightened as another idea struck him. Walter normally loathed attending the picnic, because the emphasis was always on families, something he hadn't had in the past. When he'd been married, he hadn't wanted Sharon to get upset by all the kids running around, so he'd always gone alone. After their talk in the coffeehouse, now he knew she wouldn't have minded, that it was he who'd been depressed by the sight. There were children's games, and large picnic tables scattered everywhere, and a huge fireworks display after sunset. Those employees who were there solo, like himself, normally all hung together, drinking beer and laughing the day away. But as the Assistant Director, he couldn't sit down and join them. So he was stuck in limbo every year, and had to force himself to wander aimlessly from group to group, making light conversation with befuddled, tipsy Agents who were at a loss as to what to say to him. If he could have skipped the damn thing, he would have, but as one of the bosses, his attendance was mandatory. This year was going to be different, he decided. This year he would bring Kimberly and Emma. She hadn't attended the picnic in years, not since Emma's father had vanished without a trace, and he wasn't sure why not. She fought him mightily when he suggested it this year too, and wouldn't give him a decent explanation for her reluctance. Finally she threw up her hands and said fine, they'd go. But it would be in separate cars, and they would leave and arrive at different times. Since he knew Emma was probably going to give their relationship away just by the way she acted around him, he agreed to her conditions. Once they were all there at the park, Kim would have no choice but to come out of hiding with him. The day of the picnic was, weather-wise, picture perfect. The sun shone brightly, there wasn't a cloud in the sky, and it was hot, but not unbearable or humid. When Walter got to the park early, as was expected of the upper brass, he looked around the location with a huge grin on his face. All the rain that had been coming down over the last few weeks had ended up creating a vast sea of green grass everywhere. Hell, even the flowers were in full bloom. The area was cordoned off, separating the private party from the rest of the public park, and there were already a number of smaller groups gathering on the other side of the ropes. Walter was milling around with some of the other ADs when he spotted Scully and Mulder spreading a blanket under a tree off to the side. As he made his way over, he kept an eye out for Kimberly and Emma, but didn't see them among the arriving crowd. Little Melissa was napping in her removable car seat, a gift from Kim, and Scully made sure to keep her out of the sun. She had the same milky-white skin as her mother, although no hair yet. Walter wanted to bet money it would be the same shade of red once it made an appearance. Scully waved to him to join them, smiling as he crouched down at the edge of the blanket. "Is Kim here yet?" she inquired. As long as she was being blunt about it, he decided to follow her lead. "Not yet. She insisted on arriving separately." She gave him a oddly sympathetic look. "She's just nervous, sir. Tell her I'm here for moral support, okay?" He got the strangest impression that they weren't talking about the same thing, but he didn't probe. Instead, he stood up again, and saw two familiar red heads bobbing through the crowd. He didn't even bother wiping the grin off his face, or saying good-bye to Mulder and Scully as he walked away from them. Emma was covering her eyes with one hand as her other held Kimberly's tightly. He heard her say "no peeking" to the little girl as they got close. She gave him a strained smile when she stopped in front of him. "Last chance to back out of this," she murmured to him out of the corner of her mouth. Of course she knew that Emma was about to give away their secret, it dawned on him. She was as realistic and thorough as he was. He shook his head slowly no at her, keeping his eyes steady on hers, until she understood. The beaming, joyous smile that spread across her face in response made his heart nearly skip a beat. It occurred to him then that he didn't have to physically embrace her to let everyone know what they felt for each other. Anybody with eyes could see the love shining in both of their expressions. "Okay, honey, you can look now. Your surprise is here," Kimberly said to her daughter. "Walter!" Emma squealed, rushing the short distance to hurl herself at his legs. He bent, and scooped her up so she could give him a sloppy kiss on the cheek and wrap her arms around his neck. "I was afraid I wouldn't see you today! Mommy said you were busy last night, and you couldn't come for a sleepover." Lifting a surreptitious eyebrow at Kimberly, he laughed and curled one of Emma's ribbons hanging from her ponytails in his finger. "Well, I'm here now, Em. So what did you do last night? Did Mommy remember to read you some Harry Potter?" "Oh yes. But she doesn't do the voices as good as you." Emma started doing her impressions of him doing Harry, and Walter looked over at Kimberly while they talked. Her smile had dimmed as her eyes scanned the crowd, both inside and outside the ropes. When he caught her gaze, she squared her shoulders and touched his arm briefly. "Where's Dana?" He nodded his head in the direction of the tree, and the three of them made their way over. And within a short time, it was a done deal. There was no mistaking that he and Kimberly and Emma were here together, as a family. The rest of the afternoon would always be a blurry haze to him, of laughter and smiles and quiet, loving looks. They ate hotdogs, chatted with various people, watched Emma come in second place in a three-legged running race with one of Jana Cassidy's daughters, but spent most of their time under the tree with Mulder and Scully. Mulder shot him a sly smirk of 'I told you so' every now and then, but frankly, Walter didn't care. He couldn't conjure up a withering glare for the man if he tried. It wasn't until late afternoon as he was pouring himself a beer at the keg when trouble loomed. Kersch strolled up, a snide expression in his eye. "Having fun, Walt?" Walter bristled at both the unwelcome shortening of his name and at the man's cocky leer. They'd been adversaries for years, since he'd been promoted to AD before Kersch, who held that grudge to this day. The tussle over control of the X Files had only heightened the animosity between them. "Yes, I am," he said smoothly. "You?" Kersch chuckled, and nodded toward the rope separating the FBI group from the outside. "Oh, yeah. I wanted to get a close-up of your reaction to that little tte--tte." He was impressed that he was able to keep a blank expression when he looked over to where Kersch had indicated. Kimberly had crossed under the rope, and was walking slowly over to a blond-headed man with a camera dangling from his neck. A quick glance toward the tree showed him Emma was curled up asleep on the blanket, and both Scully and Mulder's gazes were flickering anxiously between Kimberly and himself. Every instinct he had was urging him to go to Kimberly and pull her away from the man, to protect her from being hurt all over again, but he suppressed the impulse. Walter knew who he was, even though it had been years since he'd seen him last. Emma's father. Her real father, the one who bailed out on Kimberly long ago. What the hell was he doing here? "Sorry to disappoint you, Alvin, but I knew he'd be here," Walter lied. "If you'll excuse me, I need to go check on their daughter." And walked away quickly, before the horse's ass could say anything else that would send Walter's fist flying toward his jaw. As he made his way back to the tree, his attention stayed on Kimberly and her ex- boyfriend. Jack something or other; he'd forgotten his last name. The tension he'd seen earlier in her had returned, and she held her arms tightly against her chest as she spoke with him. Walter realized that this asshole was the reason she'd avoided coming to the picnic since Emma had been born, and why she hadn't wanted to come this year. She must have known he celebrated the Fourth of July here too. A long- forgotten memory came back to him at that moment, confirming his guess. Mulder looked at him cautiously as he approached them under the tree. "She said she'd be right back, Skinner," he offered. "And she didn't look happy to see him." He said nothing, he just watched as Kimberly peeked over her shoulder once at them, then focused back on Jack. The man shuffled his feet, and shook his head. Kimberly tensed up even more, then within seconds strode away from him, her face down-turned to the ground, and her arms wrapped even tighter around her chest. Jack had a bland expression on his face, then shrugged to himself before turning back to his own party, with one final glance at her rapidly retreating back. She was obviously distraught as she returned to the blanket, her gaze focused on a still-napping Emma. "Did she see any of that?" she asked Scully, who murmured a quiet 'no'. "Good. I--I need a couple of minutes. Can you keep watching her?" "Kimberly," Walter interrupted, and her head jerked up, surprised. It broke his heart to see her fighting back tears. He crossed over to her in two steps, and took her elbow in his hand. "Come with me," he insisted, and walked her quickly to a secluded spot behind another tree. Once they were out of Emma's line of vision, he pulled her against him, wrapping his arms around her trembling shoulders. "It's okay, honey. Tell me what happened." Shaking her head against his chest, she tried fruitlessly to wriggle out of his embrace. He only held onto her tighter, and hot tears soon dampened his shirt front. They spilled out of her erratically, as she tried to resist and yet succumb to the comfort he was offering. After a brief struggle, she gave up, practically melting against him. "God, I was so stupid," she sobbed. "What was I thinking?" "About what, honey," he encouraged her, crooning in her ear. "He--he hasn't changed. He never will," she said bitterly. "Do you want him to?" he asked carefully, suddenly very alarmed at what her answer might be. Did she want to *reconcile* with that asshole? "No--yes-I don't know. I thought maybe he'd be different now. Maybe he'd grown up-and was ready to-to-" she stopped, and lifted her face from his chest, wiping her wet face roughly. Her eyes wouldn't meet his. She inhaled, then shakily blew the air out. "But he's not. He didn't even ask her name," she said in a weary tone. "He never even asked his own daughter's name." Walter cupped her head in his hands, kissing her forehead gently. "I'm sorry, Kimberly." She gave a small laugh, and finally looked up at him. Her eyes were misty, and the love and the sadness mixed together made his chest constrict. "Only you would apologize for the sperm donor's behavior, Walter. That's just so you to do that." "The what?" he said, unthinking. He'd never heard her use that phrase before. A wry smile twisted the corner of her mouth. "The sperm donor. That's what I call him in my head. And that's all he is, really. He's not her father." As the panic that had been gripping him abated, her eyes moistened again, and her gaze dropped to somewhere in the middle of his chest. "You---you're the closest thing she has to a father," she whispered hoarsely, "and you--don't even want to be-" her words trailed off as a few more tears rolled down her cheeks. He forced her eyes to meet his again, wiped her face dry, and said very calmly, "Yes, I do, Kimberly. I would love to be Emma's father." She looked confused, and a little angry. "Please, don't lie just to make me feel better. I saw the --the list." The list? Oh God, he hadn't thrown it away! No, like the idiot he was, he'd left it on the pad, and must have mixed them up with rest of his notes. And of course, since she was his secretary, she'd seen it when he handed her the papers to transcribe. No wonder she'd been so on edge lately. She thought that was what he felt about her, not the flimsy excuses he knew them to be. "I'm not lying," he insisted. "I never meant for you to see the list. It was--it was just a way for me to figure out what was stopping me from doing what I wanted to do. But none of those things I wrote down were true. *None*." She looked skeptical, so he continued, even more firmly. "I love you very much, Kimberly, and I adore Emma, too. But you know me. I'm not very observant when it comes to my own feelings, as I've told you before. So it took me a lot longer than it should have to do this." "To do what?" she asked, the beginnings of hope dawning on her face. Forget about waiting for the right moment, or the right place, he decided. *This* was the perfect time. He released her from his arms, and tugged her hand until they were out from behind the tree, in plain view of everyone. She had her back to the group, but Walter could see over her head the vast sea of faces pointed in their direction, watching them. The buzzing of the crowd got louder, as he knelt down on one knee in front of her. She gasped, anticipating what he was about to do, but he held onto her hands firmly so she couldn't escape. In his peripheral vision, he spotted Emma sitting up fast, and Mulder grabbing her to keep her in place. Then he let the rest of the world fade away, and focused on the only woman who mattered. In a purposely loud voice, he said, "Kimberly Cook, I love you with all my heart. You make me happier than any man has a right to be. I want a future and a family with you, to love you and Emma, and be with you for the rest of my life. I want to grow old with you, and raise *our* children together. Would you do me the honor of being my wife? Would you marry me, Kimberly?" It was so quiet in the park when he finished, Walter could hear the grass growing. But he took notice of nothing except the phenomenal woman in front of him. He watched her eyes as they softened and smiled radiantly at him, telling him everything he'd ever want to know. Then her voice rang clearly and proudly, as she said, "Yes." He didn't remember getting off his knees, nor the exact moment when they started kissing. All he could clearly recall, when he thought back on that instant, was the feel of her arms around him, the sweet surrender of her lips under his, and the excited peal of Emma's laughter over the sounds of another, louder noise. *Clapping*, he realized. People were clapping. He dragged his mouth away from Kimberly's when she started to giggle. "What's so funny?" he asked, hugging her fiercely. "You had me fooled," she whispered. "I thought you just wanted me to point out which OPR task force member wore women's lingerie, that's why you invited me." "Will you tell me who it is now, Mrs. Skinner?" She giggled and pulled away from him, her eyes dancing. "Oh, I like the sound of that, Mr. Skinner." Then she tilted up to his ear. "Kersch." he thought, the laugh bursting from his chest. He shot a look over her shoulder in the fellow AD's direction, and watched him squirm under his mocking glare. "Come on, it's time to go save Mulder from Emma. I'm sure she's wearing him out," she said, taking his hand. "I think we can go home now, and have our own private celebration. Enough PDA for one day, don't you think?" He stopped her from walking away, and claimed one final deep kiss. "Unh huh. I want to watch the fireworks first. Then we can go. Besides, we have to make sure Emma is good and tired by the time we get home, so we'll have the night to ourselves. There's something you don't know about me yet, my dear Watson." "What's that?" He nipped her earlobe. "Calling you Mrs. Skinner makes *me* horny." As they made their way back to the crowd, where they were quickly surrounded by well-wishers and Emma came bounding up into his arms, Walter Skinner realized he'd been right all along. It had only taken one simple question to experience sheer bliss. And that Kimberly Cook, Kimberly *Skinner*, was most definitely a phenomenal woman. THE END Feedback, Please! to K2_fanfic@yahoo.com