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jodithann827 · 19 days

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He Said What?!?

Rated: General / Posted on Ao3 / @today-in-fic

Summary: What would happen if he heard something he wasn’t supposed to?

Huntsville, Alabama

December 18th, 1998

Motel 6

The slow and steady hum of the radiator vibrates across the cramped confines of the not quite dingy, but not quite pristine motel room. The sun, having set hours before and taking what little warmth the day offered with it, left the room dark, save for the two beside lights and the standard desk lamp which emits a soft glow. The sound of water gargling flows through the closed bathroom door while Assistant Director Walter Skinner sits on one bed, waiting to wash the stink of the day off. Shaking his head slowly, he thinks back to the previous morning. His commute had been a breeze, his secretary was finally back after a detestable stomach flu had held her captive the week before, the Director of the Bureau was in a relatively good mood, and all of the agents under his watch were performing as needed. Yes, it had been the perfect start to the day. Perfect until Fox Mulder barreled into his office (he really needs to put a stop to that) spouting off about alien abductions and mysterious disappearances. The day went so well until 9:48. Why he entertained Mulder’s crazy ideas is beyond his comprehension. Well, that’s not entirely true. As strange as Muder is, Skinner genuinely likes him—not that he would ever divulge that tidbit of information—and, crazy or not, Mulder has proven himself to be an exceptional agent.

As Mulder spouted and Skinner listened, removing his glasses ever so slowly and rubbing his temples at the thought of the impending headache, he thought back to the previous weeks. Weeks in which Mulder killed a man and faked his death, only to reemerge and blow one giant metaphorical hole right in the center of a government conspiracy. That’s not to mention the almost-death and then amazing recovery of Agent Scully, which Skinner still isn’t sure he understands. He’s just thankful that Agent Scully is at home recovering, and will be ready to get back to work in a matter of weeks. Unfortunately, he knew he wouldn’t have the same luck taming the beast that is Fox Mulder as Scully would.

When Mulder finally got to the point and asked Skinner to sign off on the 302, Skinner could hear Scully in the back of his head. Don’t let him go, Sir. He shouldn’t go alone, Skinner. You know what’s going to happen if I’m not there. He found himself nodding at her words, though Mulder mistook his nodding as permission granted. He profusely thanked him and, with the look of a kid on Christmas morning, mentioned something about booking the first flight out and going home to pack before Skinner realized what had transpired. So, out of respect for Agent Scully and a concern for Agent Mulder, that’s what brought him to Huntsville; a crazy X-file with an even crazier agent. Of course, Mulder’d booked the trip so quickly that the only vacant motel in the area had one room, which is how Skinner finds himself with a roommate.

The bathroom door opens, tugging Skinner from his thoughts. Mulder walks out, thankfully dressed in plaid pajama pants and an old shirt, as puffs of steam follow him.

“Bathroom’s free,” he announces, striding over to the black duffle bag placed haphazardly on the side table chair. He rummages around for a minute, then steps back and falls onto his motel bed.

“You know I could have handled this one on my own, Sir,” Mulder insists, as he had the whole plane ride to Alabama, the car ride to the local station, and again on the way to the motel. Skinner glances in his direction and makes a weak attempt to raise his eyebrow like Scully does, which Mulder of course doesn’t notice..

“Two days, Mulder. I’ll give you two days,” Skinner responds, once again shaking his head, as he gets up and departs for the bathroom.

***

Later, as they lay in their beds, not quite ready for sleep, Skinner looks up at the pale white ceiling of the motel room and sighs. “I know you could have handled this on your own, Mulder,” he admits. Even though it’s dark and he isn’t looking in his direction, he knows Mulder is smiling.

“You promised Scully you’d go with me,” Mulder half asks, half states. Skinner chuckles, or at least as much of a chuckle as he’s willing to emit in front of an agent. “I understand, sir,” Mulder assures him. “I know she worries when she can’t be there to have my back. I know I sometimes make rash decisions…” he pauses when Skinner huffs. “Okay, maybe a lot of the time. Thank you, sir, for being willing to come with me instead of denying the case. I appreciate it, and I know Scully does as well.”

“How’s she doing?” Skinner asks, carefully, as he doesn’t like to speak of agents who aren’t present.

He’s been concerned about her since her remission. She called him a week and a half after her discharge, indicating she was fine and ready to be back at work. Skinner had to bite his tongue from saying something he would regret, like Have you completely lost your mind, and then told her in no uncertain terms that she is not to grace the doors of the Hoover building for at least another four weeks, and only then with a doctor's note. She’s still so weak, physically. Even when she returns, he knows she won’t be ready to be in the field right away. He makes a mental note to check for any upcoming conferences he can send them to upon her return, maybe ease her back into work.

“She’s getting stronger every day. I’m pretty sure she kicked her sweet and well-meaning mother out of her house by the second week of her recovery,” Mulder laughs.

Skinner is amazed and wonders how the agents accomplish anything, being two of the most stubborn individuals he has ever had the pleasure of meeting.

“That’s good,” he tells him, then adds, “It’ll be good to have her back. Well, goodnight, Agent Mulder.”

“Goodnight, sir.”

***

Hours later, Skinner awakens to a sound. Unable to identify it at first, he lies motionless, straining his ears. He hears it again. After a few moments, he realizes it’s Mulder, whimpering in his sleep. Recognizing the agent is dreaming and they aren’t in imminent danger, he rolls to his side and tries to go back to sleep. As he’s about to doze off, Mulder’s whimpers become more frenzied.

“Please, no,” Skinner hears from the next bed. He raises his head a bit, checking to see if Mulder has woken up, but the man’s closed eyes and pained expression assures Skinner that he is very much asleep. Unsure of how much longer Mulder’s dream will go on, Skinner attempts to sleep, but is incapable.

“No… can’t. Please… understand,” whines Mulder. Skinner wonders what is going on in that brain of his. He’s using a voice Skinner has never heard. He sounds scared, young, unsure.

“Mm lost,” Mulder continues, and Skinner hears a hitch in his voice. He wonders if Mulder will start crying in his sleep. Maybe he’s dreaming about his sister.

“Without you,” Mulder states.

Nope, Skinner immediately knows who Mulder is thinking about, and he longs for sleep. Of course, he’s suspected it for years. But without evidence, he never wanted to make a big deal out of it. He knows there are tons of wagers and bets floating around the bureau regarding the status of Mulder and Scully’s relationship, but he usually doesn’t pay too much attention to those things.

“Need you,” Mulder's voice pulls Skinner from his thoughts. “Best friend… No die. No happen”.

Skinner realizes Mulder is thinking back to the cancer. He wants to wake him, tell him it’s all okay; Scully is fine and she’s not going anywhere. But he also doesn’t want to startle him or cause him any embarrassment, though there isn’t anything to be embarrassed about, at least not yet.

“Promise me,” he mumbles, followed by a string of gibberish from Mulder’s dream-induced mouth. “Scully… please…love you… me.” Skinner prays sleep takes him that very instant. He knows more than he needs to, more than he should. Apparently, something in Mulder’s dream has calmed him, which Skinner doesn’t care to know, nor does he want to speculate. He realizes Mulder’s breathing has evened out and he is slumbering once more.

Unfortunately, Skinner is now wide awake and can’t get his agents out of his mind. Now that he knows, even though he tells himself there really isn’t anything to know, he quickly decides not to do anything about it. Fox Mulder and Dana Scully, as much of a pain in the ass as they—well, he— can be, are his best agents and their dynamic is something not to be messed with. He rolls over again, imploring that he’ll forget every word by morning, but knowing the sounds are burned into his brain forever.

***

Skinner wakes the next morning, wishing and hoping it was a dream, but upon seeing Mulder exit the bathroom, dressed in his suit and ready for the day, he knows it was anything but.

“How did you sleep, sir?” asks Mulder, a look of complete innocence on his face.

“I never sleep as well on the road as I do at home,” Skinner replies, sitting up and stretching. The morning sun is attempting to peek through the drawn curtains. Well, now or never, Skinner thinks to himself. “Hey, Mulder,” he says, his voice strong, but slightly tentative, as if testing the waters. Mulder looks in his direction, eyebrows knit, waiting for him to speak. Oh to hell with it, he thinks. “Mulder, did you know you talk in your sleep?”

Mulder’s eyebrows reach so high they almost touch the top of his forehead as his eyes bulge from their sockets. I’ll take that as a no, Skinner muses. Mulder stares at his boss for a minute, and Skinner almost feels sorry for him seeing the terrified look of pure dread adorning his face.

“What did I, uh… did I say anything, uh…” he fumbles over his words, trying to find the right ones to ask.

Skinner smiles slightly and decides that as much fun as this could be, he’ll go easy on Mulder, just this once. “You said a few words and mumbled a bit. I’m surprised no one has mentioned it to you before. I just thought you should know.”

Lifting himself from the bed, he staggers toward the bathroom to get ready for whatever this ridiculous day has in store for him. He turns slightly to look at the younger man. They’re idiots, these agents of his, but they’re his idiots, and for now, Mulder's secret is safe with him. He’ll be ready whenever Mulder feels free enough to talk about it.

#fox mulder #dana scully #the x files fanfic #msr #walter skinner #talking in his sleep #he said what?

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