- Deslea's URL is now http://www.deslea.com or http://fiction.deslea.com.  
- Email address is now deslea@deslea.com.
- May be archived by Scully/Skinner specialty archives only.

This information supercedes all other information found in this file.

Someone I Trusted *R*  1/1 
Deslea R. Judd 
This work is based on The X Files, a creation of Chris Carter  
owned by him, Twentieth Century Fox, and Ten-Thirteen  
Productions. All characters mentioned remain the intellectual  
property of those parties and are used without their consent  
and without commercial gain. 
Spoilers: Blessing Way. 
Category:  Vignette,  Romance-ish (ie erotica)  
Rating:  R for sex and a couple of naughty words.  Some  
possibly disturbing imagery of eroticism and guns. 
Summary:  When Scully pulls a gun on Skinner, trust becomes  
something fluid. Alternate scene within Blessing Way (the  
Reservoir Dogs-esque scene with Scully and Skinner holding  
guns on one another). 
A little note:  The whole idea of this vignette is that Scully  
has, under the stress of continual threats to her life, completely  
lost it and thrown caution to the wind.  Don't you do the same.   
AIDS ain't likely to hit a fictional character whose existence is  
tied to a million dollar contract, but real people aren't so lucky. 
Fan mail is always appreciated!!!  My e-mail is  
drjudd@primus.com.au OR drjudd@catholic.org.
Archivists, feel free to add this to  
your collections; but be sure to let me know.  This and my  
other stories may be found at  
http://home.primus.com.au/drjudd (shameless plug). 
Someone I Trusted  *R* 1/1 
Deslea R. Judd 
Copyright 1997 
	Scully pulled out her keys and turned one over,  
revealing a label.  //Mulder//, Skinner noted over her shoulder,  
wondering not for the first time if they were having an affair.   
Calmly, she unlocked the door to Mulder's apartment and  
opened it.  "After you," she said tightly. 
	//I don't have a good feeling about this//, he thought,  
but he complied nonetheless.  He trusted her - didn't he? 
	He heard the click of a safety catch being flicked off,  
and froze.  "Eyes forward.  Put your hands where I can see  
them," she said cooly.  "Don't turn around or I'll blow your  
head off."  There was a sound, and the light flicked on.   
"Don't think I won't do it, you son of a bitch." 
	Even as he assessed the situation at lightning speed,  
Skinner did as he was told.  "No, I believe you.  Stay cool, I'm  
with you."  He had never been so frightened in his life.  He  
knew she had to believe she was in danger from him to pull  
such a stunt.  Indeed, he could sense her terror - would have  
sensed it in the car if he hadn't been so busy inhaling her  
scent.  That terror made her dangerous - very dangerous.   
There was something else, too:  Never before had he had an  
enemy who he considered his equal.  He shivered  
	"Take two steps forward." 
	Skinner complied. 
	Scully stepped forward, shutting the door behind  
them.  He felt her brush against him, and tensed, swallowing  
hard.  He was suddenly, agonisingly aware of a battle of wills  
between two equally primal instincts:  survival, and - and - 
	//Dear God, he was turned on.// 
	Her proximity, the danger, her assertiveness, the fact  
that she held his life in her hands all combined to create a  
kernel of desire even in his terror - that, and the fact that he  
thought, had always thought, she was the most stunning  
woman on earth.  He rolled his eyes, mentally chastising the  
tightening in his groin for its timing, and vaguely registered  
her telling him to go to the couch.  He obeyed, his breath  
coming in short gasps. 
	Scully turned on the light behind him.  His brow  
furrowed at the sight of the x taped to the window.  That  
meant Mulder was still tied up with that informant of his...that  
worried him. 
	Scully's voice came from behind him.  "Now turn  
around slowly and sit on your hands." 
	Skinner complied, watching her warily.   She threw  
down her bag and passed him, her shadow passing over him.   
She faced him. 
	He spoke.  "Are you going to let me tell you why I'm  
	Her voice was cold.  "I know why you're here.  I want  
to know who sent you...whose errand boy you are."  She spoke  
contemptuously, and Skinner flushed, suddenly affronted, the  
same way he had been when she threw that cheap crack about  
him overestimating the extent of his command. 
	But now defending himself wasn't about asserting his  
role in the chain of command.  It was about survival. 
	"No-one sent me," he said simply. 
	There was a flicker of movement in her throat and  
her eyes and the lines of her jaw.  She wanted to believe, he  
could see that.  She slowly sat down in the chair in front of  
him.  And then she spoke, her voice cold once more.  "You've  
got the rest of your life to give me answers." 
	Skinner stared at her, paralysed momentarily by fear  
and indecision.  She was so damn scared she probably  
wouldn't believe him anyway.  He had to find a way to get out  
his weapon, to get away, anything...and the first step in that  
would have to be banishing all consciousness of the tightening  
in his groin.  Because he could sit there and allow the painful  
pleasure of it to cushion him from the fear, to comfort him and  
make him feel giddy and safe...and if he did that, if he allowed  
himself to be diverted from the business of survival, he would  
	Scully suddenly noticed the bulge in his pants, and  
smiled to herself.  //Typical male//, she thought with a shadow  
of contempt.  //Imagine getting off on-// 
	She stopped mid-thought, suddenly identifying the  
frission that had passed through her as she had pulled the gun  
on her boss.  She grimaced.  For heaven's sake, what was she  
thinking?  Just when she most needed to keep her head, too.   
But...//Oh, what the hell.  I'll probably be dead within the  
week...I deserve a little fun.//  She rose. 
	"You enjoying this, Skinner?" she demanded, a faint  
curl at the corners of her mouth.  She stood before him, bent  
one stocking-encased leg and rested it between his legs, her  
knee just nudging his groin.  He stared at her in stunned  
	Her voice grew deeper, breathier.  "Are you afraid of  
me, Skinner?" she asked piercingly.   
	Warily, he nodded.   
	Lower still, she breathed, "Do you want me?,"  
rubbing her knee against his erection in tight little circles. 
	Reluctantly, he moaned, arching his neck.  "Oh,  
God," he breathed.  "God help me, yes." 
	Still holding the gun, she deliberately opened her  
jacket and unbuttoned her blouse with one hand.  It fell open,  
revealing an ice blue satin bra.  "Open it," she dared.  She  
swung the gun slightly off target, just enough to let him know  
she wouldn't force him.  Self defence was one thing, but  
Scully wasn't about to rape a man she respected. 
	Horrified, terrified, tantalised; he stared into her eyes,  
unable to decipher her motives.  He raised his hands almost  
absent-mindedly and unfastened the hook in the cleft between  
her breasts, the tips of his fingers warm against the cool skin.   
Too cool.  He realised she was as terrified of him as he was of  
	And yet she let him do this to her, when he could so  
easily snap her neck in a single movement...why?   
	His fingers brushed against her left breast, then  
cupped it in his hand, wanting to warm her as he caressed her.   
She smiled faintly as he ran his other hand down over her  
stomach, then up her side to her neck.  He held it there,  
loosely around her throat for a long moment.  She drew in her  
breath inaudibly, but he continued to her chin, and grazed her  
jawline, cupping her cheek in his hand with sudden  
tenderness.  She wiped away a trickle of perspiration from his  
temple, acknowledging his fear with a sympathetic little smile  
without attempting to assauge it.  She leaned forward, her  
breasts over his face.  Almost against his will, he leaned up  
and took one in his mouth, the flesh warm and soft.  He almost  
forgot the danger, although there was a part of his mind that  
reminded him with feverish glee/terror that she could kill him  
at any moment. 
	He became aware of her hand between his legs,  
unzipping him, her fingers slipping into his briefs and closing  
around his rock-hard cock.  The gun was still aimed at him,  
her arm wide so that he couldn't get it.  She knew just what  
she was doing, the feverish voice said.  His back stiffened as  
she began to slowly pull and stroke him. He closed his eyes.    
"Oh," he moaned, wondering if he was going insane.  She  
could kill him, she had a gun, and he was trusting her to touch  
him at his most vulnerable - was he out of his mind? the  
rapidly diminishing rational part of him screamed even as he  
reached forward between her legs. 
	He suddenly had a mental image, as though he were  
viewing them from outside.  He imagined her standing in front  
of him, leaning forward with her breast in his mouth, stroking  
him with one hand, her gun in the other, her short skirt hiked  
up around her thighs as he stroked her through the wet satin  
that he just knew was ice blue like her bra, looking for all the  
world like some law enforcement-world dominatrix.   
Alongside this image was one that he had long cherished, of  
mounting her on top of his desk at the Bureau.  The irony of  
the tables turned, her dominating him as he had often  
imagined doing to her...it petrified him and aroused him in  
	He could feel his cock throbbing between her palms.   
His fingers were shaking, and it was all he could do not to rip  
her panties and plunge them into her warm depths, or increase  
their speed and make her cry out with desire.  But he wouldn't  
give her that satisfaction...not yet.  Instead, he traced the  
outline of her labia through the satin (//ice blue satin, ice blue  
satin,// the feverish voice chanted, and he wished he could  
smack it in the mouth) with a light brushing touch, then  
parted her lips, the fabric still stretched over them.  He heard  
her give a ragged gasp and she drew away involuntarily, then  
pressed down against his fingers once more.  He smiled  
approvingly to himself.  He pressed his fingers through the  
wet satin into her flesh, finding her hardened clitoris by touch,  
and rotating it with his fingertip with excruciating slowness.   
He kissed her between her breasts, reaching around with his  
free hand and slipping it into her panties, caressing her firm  
round buttocks with a fleeting image of entering her from  
	Scully was shivering with suppressed desire.  She  
couldn't let go as she desperately wanted...it was too  
dangerous.  But...oh, his hands...they roamed her body, her  
breasts, her stomach, her hips, her ass, her most secret places,  
possessing her...for all the times she had thought of this - of  
//him// - she had never dreamed he could do this to her, could  
make her so hot and wet deep inside, could make her want  
him like she'd never wanted anyone in her life.  She  
shuddered in sudden climax, then came back as hot and hard  
and fast as she had been before it, wanting more, taking more. 
	Even in her own conflict, her own fear, her mouth  
twitched with amusement at the conflict she could sense  
behind those closed eyes.  For her part, she was incredibly  
turned on - had been since the moment she'd cocked her gun  
(//no pun intended,// her mind punctuated).  Holding a gun on  
her boss, and a damn good-looking boss at that, had set the  
scene for this.  His erection had galvinised her into action.   
She had planned to tease him, nothing more; but his unwilling  
excitement at her minstrations even as she trained the gun on  
him made her feel warm and moist inside, made her part her  
legs involuntarily long before he reached between them.  That  
was when she had passed (to her) the point of no return, and  
unzipped him.  Crazily, the twin hardness of his cock in one  
hand and her gun in the other aroused an image of her doing  
this to Mulder and Skinner simultaneously. 
	The grief rose within her thick and fast, and she  
suppressed it.  Suddenly hungry for human warmth, anything  
to assauge her pain, she hiked up her skirt and pulled his  
hands away from between her legs.  Ripping her panties aside,  
she straddled him.  His hands flew automatically to her hips,  
and she lowered herself onto his cock, engulfing him with a  
single movement.  He could feel her warm muscles closing  
and tighening around him and the tattered remains of wet  
satin at the base of his cock, could feel the slippery fabric  
rubbing against his balls as he pushed himself into her. 
	//I should have used a condom. 
	How?  If I'd gone to get one from my bag, assuming  
it's not past its expiry date, he'd have gotten his gun and killed  
me.  Fat lot of good safe sex would do me then. 
	What are you, Scully?  Suicidal?// 
	Banishing these thoughts, which for all their logic  
seemed ridiculous given she had a life expectancy of maybe  
age 35, assuming she survived the week, Scully returned her  
attention to the man beneath her.  She rotated her hips,  
moving his cock around and around in little circles with her  
body, pushing down hard on him, sheathing him to the hilt.   
She could feel the throbbing inside her, the clenching as she  
tried to make herself even more aware of that thick presence  
that filled her.  He leaned forward and buried his face in her  
breasts, felt her bring one arm around his shoulders in what  
seemed like a warm gesture.  He arched his back, pushing  
even deeper into her as he felt his orgasm approach.  She was  
grinding down on him in a frenzy, her breathing ragged and  
gasping as she built towards her own crushing climax.  She  
felt the slight constriction of his cock as he reared back and  
filled her, and she clenched him, milking him.  Seconds later,  
she came, spasms racking her body as she slumped on top of  
him with a cry of release. 
	They stayed like that for a long moment, and then  
Skinner kissed her neck with sudden tenderness.  She brought  
a hand around and lazily played with the short hair at the back  
of his head.  She still trained the gun on him, but without  
conviction.  But when she felt him fade away inside her, she  
lifted herself off him, and that was when she became conscious  
of her vulnerability.  She stepped away and tightened her hold  
on the gun, straightening her skirt with her free hand.   
Skinner looked at her, saddened.  Had he dared hope this  
meant she believed him?  No.  But...he'd wished it.  He  
averted his gaze and tucked himself back into his trousers, her  
scent still drifting into his nostrils. 
	She attempted to fasten her bra with one hand, then  
discarded the plan as too difficult.  She buttoned her blouse  
over her naked breasts.  He could feel himself growing hard  
again at the sight of her nipples poking through the soft  
cotton.  //Down, boy; I think that's it for today,// he told  
himself.  "How high does it go, Skinner?" she asked softly,  
buttoning her jacket.  "Who's pulling the strings?" 
	"You can kill me, Scully, but you'll only be doing  
their work for them.  Forget about your job, family; you'll  
spend the rest of your life behind bars.  There isn't a Federal  
judge they couldn't persuade."  Skinner's voice was soft,  
	Scully's lips parted slightly.  She breathed out  
shakily.  "What's the alternative?  Let you kill me now?" 
	"I didn't come here to kill you.  I came here to give  
you something." 
	She regarded him with suspicion.  Just then, she felt  
moisture - his moisture - between her thighs.  "Yeah, you gave  
me something, all right," she retorted. 
	Skinner glared at her with sudden fury.  Damn it, she  
was still wet for him, still shuddering from him inside her.   
Why were women so damn changeable?  "I seem to recall that  
it was your idea, Scully."  He sighed, collecting himself.  More  
calmly, he admitted, "I've got the digital tape."  
	"You're lying," she accused. 
	"I've got it in my pocket.  I took it out of Mulder's  
	Scully's eyes widened. 
	Suddenly, there were footsteps outside the apartment,  
and Scully glanced away at the shadow beneath the door.   
Seeing his chance, Skinner whipped out his gun, leaping up.   
Seeing him from the corner of her eye, she did the same on  
reflex.  Aware of her mistake, Scully's gaze flew back to him  
in horror.  //Fuck it, why didn't I get it from him?  Too damn  
busy jerking him off?  You stupid, stupid girl!//  She held her  
gun with a lightning grip, horrified.  They stood there for a  
long moment, stunned.  Then Skinner shouted furiously,  
"What the fuck was that, Scully?  Were you jerking my chain?  
Getting off on the power?  Or just fucking with my head  
before you killed me in revenge for Mulder?" he spat.  He was  
hurt.  Had he enjoyed it? Fuck yes.  But...it had been all  
wrong.  "Drop your weapon!  Put it down, Scully." 
	"No way," she said in a low, ragged voice.  He  
suddenly knew she was flying on sheer adrenaline...the  
adrenaline of fear, the adrenaline of ardour.  That made her  
dangerous...//more// dangerous. 
	"Put it down," he repeated warningly. 
	"I said no!" she screamed.  "You're setting me up!" 
	"I'm here to help you," he said through gritted teeth. 
	"Then put your weapon down and sit down!" she  
demanded in fury. 
	He looked at her with distrust.  "Not a chance," he  
	Dismayed and frightened, she shouted, "You said you  
weren't here to kill me, Skinner; now prove it!" 
	"I didn't come to have a gun shoved in my face,  
either."  //Or to have you fuck with my head along with my  
body, you bitch,// he thought bitterly.  His body still throbbed  
for her, and now it stung with the pain of betrayal. 
	"Dammit, Skinner-" 
	And then Mulder burst in. 
	They both stared at him, thunderstruck.  "Drop your  
weapon!" he yelled at Skinner.   
	"Back off," Skinner ordered.  He knew a no win  
situation when he saw one.  Authority was his only lever. 
	Mulder was having none of it.  "I said drop it!"   
Scully stared at him, her eyes shining.  "Drop it!" 
	"What is this?  What are you trying to pull?" Skinner  
demanded, never taking his eyes from Mulder. 
	Mulder ignored him.  "You okay Scully?" 
	"Yeah," she said breathlessly. 
	"Get his gun," he said.  Still staring at him, she held  
out her hand to Skinner.  Skinner made no move to give it to  
her.  "Give it to her," Mulder instructed. 
	Skinner stared at Mulder mutinously.  "Give it to  
	Outnumbered, Skinner raised his hand in surrender  
and did as he was instructed.  "All right." 
	"Now I want an explanation," Mulder demanded. 
	"I was warned someone would kill me," Scully said.   
Then, more quietly, "Someone I trusted."  She looked at  
Skinner, then averted her gaze. 
	Skinner stared at her in realisation.  He had had it all  
wrong.  She had had so much more to lose than him...her  
control, and possibly her life.  She had been far more  
vulnerable than him...and yet she had done it.  //That// was  
why she'd done it - because even in her fear, at some level she  
trusted him.  //Oh, Scully, I'm sorry.  I misjudged you.//  He  
looked away, ashamed. 
	Suddenly aware that Mulder was watching them, he  
came to himself.  "I am going to reach into my coat pocket and  
end this charade once and for all."  Mulder nodded slightly for  
him to go ahead.  He removed the data tape.  "I presume you  
both know what this is?" 
	Scully's eyes met his, aghast.  //He really wasn't here  
to kill me,// she realised.  She breathed out, suddenly aware of  
an ache in her chest that had been there since she had  
suspected him.  Had that been the real reason she had given  
herself to him? she wondered.  Had it been a test?  //Fuck it,  
who knows.  It's over.// 
	Skinner looked back at Mulder.  "Now I want an  
	Mulder snapped, "Your cigarette smoking friend  
killed my father for that tape, and then he killed me." 
	Skinner looked confused.  "What do you mean?" 
	"I was a dead man," Mulder said, knowing his cryptic  
words were annoying the fuck out of Skinner and enjoying it  
immensely.  "Now I'm back." 
	Skinner raised an eyebrow but decided not to pursue  
this unpromising line of enquiry.  "What is on this tape?" 
	"Defence department files that weren't supposed to  
exist," Mulder charged.  "The truth about our government's  
involvement in a global conspiracy of silence about the  
existence of extra terrestrial life." 
	Scully spoke.  "Give me the tape." 
	Skinner shook his head.  "Uh-uh, this tape stays with  
	Mulder cocked his gun.  "Give her the tape." 
	Skinner stood his ground.  "If what you say is true,  
then the information on this tape is valuable enough to kill for.   
And it's the only leverage we've got to bring these men to  
justice."  He reasoned, "It's not going to do us any good if it  
falls back into their hands." 
	Mulder lowered his gun. "Then you'd better make  
sure it doesn't."  He turned.  "Let's go, Scully." 
	"Where?" she breathed, as if she cared. 
	"There are truths out there that aren't on that tape." 
	With that, Mulder walked out.  Scully followed him  
with her eyes for a moment, then turned to Skinner.  She held  
out his gun. 
	He met her gaze for a long moment, then took it.   
"Scully?" he said tentatively.  She raised an eyebrow in  
question.  "Do you trust me still?" 
	She turned away and walked out. 
	His shoulders slumped at her non-answer, which  
could only mean no, and he looked down at his hands.  That  
was when he realised she had answered him after all. 
	//She had turned her back on him as he held his  
	Smiling to himself, he switched off the light, and  
walked out. 
Coming soon:  Two independent sequels:  Someone I Trusted  
II: The MSR File, in which Mulder discovers what Scully has  
done in an alternate Paper Clip scene; and Someone I Trusted  
II: The SSR File, in which Scully and Skinner reunite in the  
desert in an alternate Paper Clip scene.