- 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 XI: Ground Zero *PG13* (Series NC17) 1/1
Deslea R. Judd
drjudd@primus.com.au drjudd@catholic.org
Copyright 1998, 1999


This work is based on The X Files, a creation of Chris 
Carter owned by him, Twentieth Century Fox, and Ten-
Thirteen Productions. Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, Walter 
Skinner, and the Cigarette Smoking Man remain the 
intellectual property of those parties and are used without 
their consent and without commercial gain.   Susannah  
Skinner is my creation and may not be used elsewhere 
without my consent.    Some parts of this work are verbatim 
extracts from the show and are also owned by the parties 

OK to archive/forward.

Spoilers: Pilot, Erlenmyer Flask, One Breath, Blessing Way,
Paper Clip, Nisei, Piper Maru, Apocrypha, Avatar, Tunguska,
Terma, Leonard Betts, Never Again, Memento Mori, Max, Zero 

Category:  Story,  Romance (Skinner/Scully).

Rating:  NC17 (Series for sex and adult themes), this 
installment PG13. 

Summary:  Sequel to Someone I Trusted I-X, in which Skinner
deals for Scully's life - and fertility.

Fan mail is always appreciated!!!  My e-mail is
drjudd@primus.com.au and drjudd@catholic.org.
This and my other stories may be found at
http://home.primus.com.au/drjudd (shameless plug).

Someone I Trusted (The Blessing Way), in which Scully pulls 
a gun on Skinner...and surprises him
Someone I Trusted II: The SSR File, in which Scully and
Skinner discuss their coupling and try again
Someone I Trusted III: Always, in which Scully and Skinner
resume their affair and discuss children
Someone I Trusted IV: The Apocryphal File, in which Scully
decides to try for a baby, after all
Someone I Trusted V: Sharon's Reprise, in which Skinner is
torn between his past and his future
Someone I Trusted VI: Interlude, in which Skinner and 
Scully holiday with his daughter.  Mulder finds out about
their affair.
Someone I Trusted VII: Terma's Shadow, in which Scully
answers Skinner's jealousy with a commitment.
Someone I Trusted VIII:  Memento Mori, in which
Scully and Skinner discover she can't bear children.
Someone I Trusted IX:  Susannah, in which Susannah
Skinner comforts her father and Scully.
Someone I Trusted X: Through Darkened Glass, in which
Scully remembers her abduction - and Skinner's part in it.

Someone I Trusted XI:  Ground Zero *PG13* (Series NC17) 1/1
Deslea R. Judd
drjudd@primus.com.au drjudd@catholic.org
Copyright 1998, 1999


	Scully surveyed the empty apartment with 
	Mentally, she ticked off the security features she 
had had fitted.  Bulletproof glass, back-to-base security 
monitoring, video surveillance, an identification entry 
system which detected unique pigment patterns in the eye, 
and secure telephone lines.  It wasn't perfect, but in 
addition to the normal features of the security building, 
it was sufficient.
	Her stepdaughter spoke.  "Don't you think this is 
going a little overboard, Dana?  I mean I understand the 
risks - my own mother was murdered over your work, after 
all - but even you don't have these sorts of features in 
your apartment."
	Scully turned to face the girl with a shrug.  
"Susannah, I bought my apartment before I was assigned to 
the X Files.  If I had bought it in the last few years I 
probably would have fitted exactly the same devices to 
mine."  She lowered her voice.  "And your father is taking 
more risks in his own work these days, too.  We need to 
keep you safe."
	Susannah frowned.  "But Dana, you don't have this 
kind of money.  The security alone is pushing the hundred-
grand mark.  The apartment is worth another three.  Daddy 
has this kind of money, but I file his papers, his bank 
statements.  I know he's not footing the bill for this.  
I'm not a fool.  There's something you're not telling me."
	Scully met her gaze.  "Look, Susannah, we both know 
there's a good chance of me not being around to protect 
	She gave an exasperated sigh.  "Well, you can play 
total denial if you wish; but the fact is, I am terminally 
ill.  This is my way of being here to protect you if - when 
- I am no longer here.  Will you please humour me?"
	She dropped her gaze then, because the truth of her 
words concealed a lie she could not reveal.
	Purchasing the apartment was indeed Scully's way of 
protecting her daughter, but not as Susannah understood it.  
The money - another lie of omission - had indeed come from 
her resources, but not from her own pocket.  Her life 
insurance provider had paid out her million-dollar policy 
when she had furnished proof of a life expectancy not 
exceeding six months.  Susannah had miscalculated the 
apartment's value; between the purchase cost and the first 
ten years' body corporate fees, over half of that million 
was gone.  Another quarter was invested to provide the 
girl, now eighteen, with an income.
	It was only two days ago that her oncologist had 
confirmed her cancer had almost certainly metastasised, 
although another round of tests was needed to say so 
definitely.  Her time, she knew, was running out; and it 
was quite likely that the cancer would spread to her brain, 
causing dementia, before she died.  It was important that 
she laid the groundwork for Susannah's survival while she 
was still competent to do so.
	It had been a fortnight since she had remembered her 
abduction.  A fortnight of avoiding Walter, of avoiding her 
certain knowledge that he had been responsible for what had 
been done to her.  Soon, there would be a confrontation.  
It was unavoidable.  She would have to tell him what she 
knew, but she had not and would not tell Mulder.  To admit 
to another the truth of what this man she loved was - this 
monster - was more than she could bring herself to do.
	No, justice was something that was lost to her now.  
Exposing Walter would mean leaving Susannah fatherless, for 
he would surely be murdered before he could stand trial.  
The girl had barely recovered from losing her natural 
mother, such as Sharon had been.  And Scully was under no 
illusions as to the devastation that her own death would 
bring to Susannah.  She had to protect the girl at all 
costs - even if that meant also protecting Walter.  As it 
was, there remained a small risk that, upon learning of her 
knowledge, Walter might kill her, then himself.  In some 
ways that possibility comforted her.
	Still, she had to face the fact that Mulder may 
expose Walter at some later time.  She had to make the girl 
safe, help her to start a life independently now...just in 
case.  For there would be no-one to help Susannah if both 
she and Walter died; no-one to protect Susannah if she were 
targeted as a weapon against Walter.
	But she had done her best, and Susannah was, after 
all, a Skinner; she could protect herself.  She needed only 
the tools, practical and personal, with which to do so, and 
Scully had provided those.  Walter would supplement them if 
ever a specific need arose.  She had entrusted her own life 
to him, and that had been a mistake; but she had to have 
faith in his love for their daughter.
	She had no other choice.
	Susannah's eyes were still on her, and she met the 
girl's gaze for a long, long moment.  Her expression was 
openly suspicious.  Finally, though, her face softened, and 
she approached her and embraced her with great tenderness.  
"I love you, Dana."
	Scully broke then.  She couldn't help it.  Silent 
tears streaming down her cheeks, she choked, "I love you 
too.  Oh, Susannah, please be safe."
	//Dear God, please keep her safe.//

	"No-one can come to the phone at the moment.  Leave a 
message after the beep."
	Susannah gave a wry grin.  "Your voice mail message 
has all the charm and personality of a McDonald's Drive 
	Scully was flipping through her mail.  "It's not 
there to take my place, just my messages," she retorted 
	"You have one message," an alien, disembodied voice 
said importantly.
	"Bully for you," Susannah snorted.  She gave Scully 
two morphine capsules.
	Scully dry-swallowed them.  "You always speak to 
inanimate objects?"
	Susannah was rifling through her bag.  "I was raised 
by the Ice Queen, remember?"  Her tone was light, but oddly 
	Scully registered Walter's voice on the machine and 
forced herself to continue speaking naturally.  "Raised 
isn't quite the term I'd use for Sharon's version of 
parenting, but let's not go there today."  She turned to 
face her.  "Okay, that was your father.  Could you tell him 
when you get home that I'll call him tomorrow?"
	Susannah held up a toothbrush.  "No can do, Dana.  I 
told him you were in hospital this week.  He was surprised 
you hadn't told him.  I told him you were to be discharged 
this morning - little dreaming we'd detour to my new home - 
and he asked me to stay with you tonight, make sure you 
were okay."
	Scully rolled her eyes.  "My very own chaperone, for 
God's sake.  All right.  Pizza and videos suit you?"
	"You got yourself a date."

	"Some date," Scully muttered, with an affectionate 
glance at Susannah.
	Strictly speaking, it was a glance at Susannah's 
coffee-coloured hair, which was all she could see of the 
girl.  Susannah herself was buried somewhere on the lounge 
within the warm confines of a thick quilt.  She had been 
asleep twenty minutes into the first movie.  Scully herself 
had switched to Star Trek: Voyager, but had dozed off after 
half an episode.  Neither party animal had stirred from 
their prime-time slumber until - Scully checked her watch 
in the dim light of the television - two am.
	Scully had slept deeply, a sometime side-effect of 
the morphine.  Now, she felt very fresh and alert, having 
slept a good six hours.  She should go to bed; but her body 
was primed to start the day.  She did not rise just yet; 
content to let her mind drift.  Sooner or later it would 
seize on something - a case, her monograph, the paper she 
would present at Harvard next year (probably posthumously, 
her mind added brutally), maybe just that book of logic 
problems she'd waded through while in hospital.  Then she 
would get up and satisfy whatever mental craving presented 
itself for a few hours, then go back to sleep.
	She equivocated a while, then settled on the logic 
problems.  She rose and went to her overnight bag she had 
had with her at the hospital, but the book was not inside.  
She looked down at the bag thoughtfully, mentally retracing 
her steps.
	//The car.//
	Susannah had picked her up in Walter's car, and she 
had been working on them as the younger woman drove.  The 
book must be on the front seat.  Shrugging slightly at her 
forgetfulness (and suppressing a shiver of fright that she 
got so often now about the possibility of dementia), she 
picked up Susannah's keys and padded out to the car.
	It was as she approached Walter's sleek sedan that 
she wondered what the hell he was driving.  Why on earth 
would he let Susannah take the car when he knew she would 
stay at Annapolis overnight?  He often walked to work, that 
was true; but he usually drove to the gym.  Frowning, she 
opened the passenger side door and located the errant book, 
her mind working.
	//He told Susannah to stay the night with me.  Why?//
	Nothing so odd about Susannah staying, but Walter 
telling his adult daughter to play chaperone after a 
routine run of tests was strange.
	//Why did he give her his car?  Her old Ford is 
reliable enough.//
	Could it be for her, Scully's, comfort?  She didn't 
think so.  Susannah's Ford might not be new - Walter 
believed even a wealthy teenager must earn a brand new car 
with a good driving record over five years, just as he had 
- but nonetheless, he had bought her a 1993 model in the 
middle price range.  It had air conditioning and a CD 
player.  It put Scully's own perfectly restored Morris Mini 
to shame.
	Something else was bothering her.  It was something 
Susannah had said that day.
	//Daddy has this kind of money...I file his bank 
	Walter was moderately wealthy; Scully had always 
known that.  Most of it was from his family; some inherited 
from Sharon; some of it from his own earnings.  They rarely 
discussed money, but Scully knew that the Assistant 
Directors had packages amounting to around $450,000 per 
annum.  She knew he lived relatively frugally, usually 
spending only $70,000 of it at a guess - $100,000 now that 
he paid Susannah to keep track of his financial affairs and 
manage his properties.  But she realised now she had very 
little idea of exactly how much he really was worth in 
cold, hard, available-on-the-spot cash.  
	At the time of her investigation into the attempt on 
Sharon's life, which had eventually killed her, Scully had 
located assets belonging to Walter amounting to around six 
million dollars.  Sharon's estate had been worth another 
four, and he had a life interest in half of that.  But none 
of that had been liquid.  Walter bought two or three 
properties every year from his salary and his rental 
income, usually in Virginia.  His familial inheritance was 
tied up in managed trusts and tax havens all over the world 
- accessible, but not liquid.  The money from Sharon was 
still in trust with the executor, who distributed the 
interest to him annually.  The capital would only be 
distributed to him if Susannah predeceased him; otherwise 
it would pass to Susannah on Walter's death.  But Susannah 
seemed to be aware of a cool half million sitting in his 
bank account - Walter, who believed anything more than two 
thousand in cash management accounts was a waste of 
	She could have misinterpreted the girl's words, of 
course.  She could have meant simply that no record of a 
half-million dollar liquidation had come her way.  But then 
why the specific reference to bank statements?  It was 
strangely out of context; given Walter didn't normally keep 
his money in the bank, but in assets.  It made no sense.
	She sat down on the passenger seat, frowning.  On 
pure instinct she wished she could deny, she opened the 
ashtray on the console.
	With dismay but no real surprise, Scully pulled the 
cigarette stub from the tray, eyeing the word on the side 
with a sigh.
	//Damn it, Walter; what have you gotten into now?//

	She returned to the apartment, the logic problems 
forgotten.  She went to her bedroom and dressed, with no 
real plan except to locate Walter and see what happened.
	She was tempted to let it go.  She must maintain some 
minimal contact with Walter - they had a daughter who 
commuted between their homes, after all - but Walter was 
really no longer her concern.  He was her partner, her 
fiance, only in name; and the confrontation that would end 
that state of affairs was surely not far away.
	But what Walter did - especially where it concerned 
Sarron Andrews - endangered Susannah.  That the smoking man 
had been in the very car Walter had lent Susie enraged her.  
Walter was a target; didn't he see that?  Scully was their 
enemy, but these people's friends were often in worse 
danger from them than she was.  At any time Sarron or 
someone higher than him might decide to double-cross 
Walter.  What if they planted a bomb in his car, and he'd 
lent it to their daughter?
	Scully drew her gun from her bedside drawer and 
checked it.  She put it into its holster, its weight 
comforting in the small of her back.  No, what Walter did 
was still her concern.  She herself was dying, but it was 
not yet too late to protect their daughter.
	She hoped.

	Skinner's apartment was empty.
	The phone was off the hook, and Susannah's car was 
not in the garage.  Frowning, Scully let herself in.   
After a cursory look at the lounge, she switched on her 
flashlight and went upstairs to Susannah's office.
	She looked appraisingly over Susie's desk, with a 
jealous glance at the girl's computer (it was a Pentium II 
with so many trappings it required a maxi tower), then 
moved on.  Her gaze settled on a tray labelled "WS: 
Requiring Attention" - Susannah's effort at professionalism 
(this from the same girl who had been known to holler, 
"Daddy!  Phone," Scully thought affectionately).  There was 
a sheaf of bank statements with a note attached.  Scully 
read it.

Daddy:  Unknown deposit from Switzerland came through 
overnight.  Megan at Mercantile faxed me with details due 
to its unusual nature.  Nine hundred thousand Swiss francs 
- maybe a half million US dollars at the current rate of 
exchange.  Source:  Coded bank account at Bank Suisse, 
owner unknown.  I can find no record of any expected income 
from Switzerland - Rothschild Zurich managed trust income 
is automatically reinvested.  Have you put the chalet in 
Geneva on the market by any chance?  I will need to update 
my records.  Please advise.  Susannah.

	Scully groaned.  
	Part of her was dismayed, but another part of her was 
exasperated by the man.  Damn it all, he knew better than 
this!  Why the hell was he leaving a paper trail?  He'd 
spent more than enough time in Switzerland when Susannah 
was at school to have unidentified accounts there himself.  
Why would he have had them deposit the money into his US 
account?  It was unbelievably careless - almost reckless.  
This from Walter, the most methodical and careful of men.
	It was almost enough to make her think he was being 
set up.
	//Wishful thinking, Dana.  You know what you know, 
and what you know can't be denied.  Not only is he in this, 
he's higher up than the Smoking Man is.  He's playing a 
game of his own.  You just need to work out what it is.//
	For Susannah.
	She sighed heavily, then returned downstairs, and 
settled down in the shadows, troubled, to wait. 


	Walter was afraid.
	He was a Skinner, and he was tough, but right now he 
was deathly afraid.
	He was standing in his briefs in Susannah's office.  
He had just put some evidence of the night's events (Jane 
Brody's blood sample, to be precise) in her safe, concealed 
beneath her desk, and turned to leave; but his gaze had 
fallen on a note in his daughter's hand.
	//Nine hundred thousand Swiss francs.  Oh, God.//
	He passed a weary hand over his eyes.
	//I'm being set up.//
	He had offered Sarron his soul for Scully's cure, but 
it was starting to look very much like he would pay instead 
with either his liberty or his life.  And Scully?  Scully 
they would continue to hold over his head until she died, 
no doubt believing he had betrayed her.
	Assuming she didn't think so already.
	Scully's distance these last two weeks had not been 
lost on him.  They had slept in the same bed one final 
night after the evening of her unexplained distress, but 
she had been stiff with tension, and she had cried out his 
name in her sleep with devastating grief.  Either she had 
been fed some bullshit information that led her to believe 
he had betrayed her, or she had in some way come to know he 
was once again meeting with Sarron.  He ached to go to her, 
to make things right between them.  But he could not 
confront her, because that would bring the estrangement 
into the open, hurting Susannah; he could not reassure her, 
because then she would learn the truth.
	He sighed heavily, his husky breath tinged with 
	//Damn them.  Damn them all.  I should just take her 
away where they can't find us and finish out our days.  
There is no cure.  They've lied to us all along.//
	His hand drifted to a picture of the three of them, 
himself, Dana and Susie, on his daughter's desk.  He 
touched it tenderly.
	If she were here right now he would kill her.
	He would touch her face, tell her he loved her.  He 
would embrace her, not as her lover, but with the chaste 
adoration of her beloved.  His hand would come up behind 
her head as he embraced her, and he would shoot her in the 
base of her neck, blowing her brainstem apart, ending her 
pain and her knowledge in a blinding instant.  And if he 
were not killed by the same bullet, he would cradle her as 
her life ebbed away to join her soul, and then he would 
shoot himself.
	But not in the neck.
	Between his eyes.
	He would be left with the mark of Cain.
	Shivering slightly, he looked at the picture of the 
three of them once more.  No, he could not do that.  He 
could not give up.  For Susannah, he had to see it through.
	They both did.

	With something like disgust, Skinner picked up the 
bag containing his clothes - the ones he had worn to 
dispose of Jane Brody's body for Sarron.  The woman had 
been dead some hours when he had retrieved her.  The 
clothes smelled of decay, tissues in necrosis, blood 
stagnant and congealed.  He had touched her face fleetingly 
with apology at the morgue, and he had seen the dignity and 
grace of the dead in that moment; but now, human 
recognition gone, he was left only with the scent of 
organic death, and it made him feel ill.  Stalking to the 
door, he flung it open - and stopped.
	Mulder was there.
	"Ah!  You //are// home," the younger man said.
	Startled, Skinner stammered, "Yeah.  What are you 
doing here?"
	Oblivious to his agitation, Mulder said, "I was just 
trying to reach you.  I think your phone's off the hook."
	Despite his startled fear, Skinner's irritation 
flared.  Only Mulder would show up at four in the morning 
and bitch accusingly that he'd had his phone off the hook, 
like Skinner had some divine imperative to keep the lines 
open in case Mulder needed him.  "I needed some sleep," he 
said sharply, with an undertone that clearly said that 
Mulder was disturbing him.
	"Is that why you're taking out the garbage at four in 
the morning?"
	Skinner bristled.  "What do you want, Agent Mulder?" 
he demanded.
	Mulder pushed his way past into the apartment.  "Some 
answers," he said cryptically. 
	Skinner clenched his fists.  //He's Dana's best 
friend.  Don't punch him//, he counselled himself.  
"Concerning?" he asked stiffly.
	Mulder was still oblivious to Skinner's fury.  "The 
unexplained death of a postal worker.  Which someone is 
apparently going to great lengths to keep unexplained."
	Skinner swallowed hard.  Mulder should not have had 
this information so quickly.  He had expected to have this 
conversation with him in the morning in his office, not in 
his home.  He felt at a psychological disadvantage.  He 
felt vulnerable.
	In the shadows, Scully frowned as Mulder explained.  
Mulder was too absorbed to see it, but Walter's tenseness 
had not been lost on her; nor had his obvious intention to 
dispose of the black clothes he had entered the apartment 
wearing.  Her mind was racing far ahead of Mulder as she 
considered his over-long shower.  Half an hour at least.  
It had seemed almost compulsive.  Like a woman who had been 
raped.  Like a man who had -
	//touched something dead//
	Scully shuddered.  Was Walter a killer?  Her mind 
recoiled at the thought.  But disposing of a body?  Yeah, 
she could buy that.  She considered what Mulder had said.
	A postal worker.  Dead of - she could barely see the 
photos Mulder had shown Walter from her position, but it 
looked to her a lot like bee stings.  The body, stolen from 
the morgue that very night.  The files deleted from 
Mulder's computer - more of Walter's handiwork, she 
realised at once.  An investigating officer killed.  
//Please God, don't let that have been Walter//, she 
pleaded; but she didn't really think so.  He had flinched 
slightly, something she had sensed rather than seen, at 
that news.  Evidence accessed fraudulently.  She stifled a 
groan.  //Oh, Lord, what a mess.//
	"What do you want from me?" Walter was saying.
	"I want your help on this, Sir," Mulder said with the 
air of one stating the obvious.
	"What about Agent Scully?" he asked automatically.
	Mulder hesitated.  "Agent Scully is in the hospital."
	Skinner jolted.  //Again?// he wondered in alarm.  
"Has something happened that I should know about?" he 
demanded fiercely.
	Had Mulder been less absorbed in the death of Jane 
Brody, he may have wondered why Skinner didn't know - he 
was, after all, Scully's fiance - but as it was, he merely 
responded to the question.  Scully was in hospital for some 
imaging tests.  Skinner was about to tell him she'd already 
been discharged when Mulder shocked him.  "Her oncologist 
thinks her tumour may be metastasising."
	Skinner felt the blood drain from his face.  He 
rocked slightly on his feet.  He fought an urge to throw 
up, and won - just.  He responded automatically when Mulder 
asked him to take a further look at the photos.  When 
Mulder showed himself out, offering to take Skinner's 
garbage with him, he declined just as automatically.  He 
shut the door behind his unwelcome visitor with a final 
	"Dana," he said softly, and then he was silent.
	He had loved this woman before they met, it seemed.  
He had saved her and condemned her with a single act so 
many years before; one Dana herself had no memory of.  
Saved her to die of a cancer that had no cure; saved her to 
face the theft of her fertility; saved her to love a man 
who would lie to protect her, only to be betrayed.  When 
she first recalled shadows of that act, she had come to 
him, confused, frightened, and angry.  Anger had turned to 
lust, and they had joined in a mutual fury that bordered on 
	And then, in the desert, anger had melted away.  
Forgiveness bore fruits of trust and love, and they had 
become one.  And that was how they had remained these two 
	And now the one would once more become two, severed 
by her very life's blood.
	//The cancer is in her blood.//
	//The vital organs, the brain.  Her body is going to 
fall apart, and take her mind with it.//
	//I love her, and she will die.//
	He put his head against the door, and, 
heartbreakingly, shuddering, he wept.
	In her hiding place, Scully stifled silent tears of 
her own - tears for herself and for him.  Whatever Walter 
had done to her, whatever he was, he loved her, even now.  
And reluctantly - how she hated herself for her weakness! - 
she loved him, too.  She could have gone to him now, and 
healed the breach between them, forgiven him and allowed 
him to forgive her.  They would make love one final time.  
And then, she thought - with little knowledge of how close 
her thoughts were to his that night - then, perhaps, they 
could go into the darkness together.
	//Susannah.  Susannah!//
	No.  She had to hold on.  She had to stay strong, to 
fight Walter, to find out what he was doing and protect him 
from himself.
	For Susannah.


	Five am.
	Scully frowned.  She would have to go home soon.  
Susannah would wake around six.  She would not be concerned 
at Scully's absence - she often walked in the early morning 
- but she would wonder why she returned wearing black and 
packing heat.  
	The garage was deserted besides herself and Walter.  
He had come down here and screwed the number-plates back 
onto Susannah's car, having apparently removed them for his 
night-time errand.  She wondered whether he had had any 
qualms about transporting a dead woman in his daughter's 
	There was the screech of a speeding car, and Scully 
retreated further behind the large Land Rover she had used 
for cover.  Skinner, however, stepped out into the path of 
the approaching vehicle, and she held her breath, 
anticipating the dull thud of his body being struck.
	But the car stopped inches from him, Skinner leaning 
forward onto the hood.  His demeanour was menacing, and 
Scully was suddenly afraid.  Sarron would not take kindly 
to that, superior or not.
	He stepped from the car, cigarette in hand.  
	There was an argument, and it was loud; but she was 
some distance away.  Nonetheless, she got the idea.  Walter 
cried out angrily, "You killed an officer of the law!"  
Sarron said words to the effect that Walter had no business 
taking the moral high ground, a sentiment with which Scully 
had some sympathy.  You can't deal with killers and expect 
them not to kill because it offends your sensibilities, 
after all.
	Scully watched this scene unfold coldly.  Walter had 
been framed for this man's death; she understood that now.  
Probably to give them some additional leverage over him, 
just in case his conscience got the better of him.  But 
this failed to interest her.  //You brought it on yourself, 
Walter.  You dug your own grave.  The Devil rarely keeps to 
his bargains.//
	But Susannah.  How would this affect her?  As far as 
Scully could see, it wouldn't.  Sarron was not seriously 
interested in exposing Walter as far as she could tell.  He 
only wanted to curb Skinner's annoying little scruples 
about murder.  //Damn nuisance, those scruples, aren't 
they, Sarron?// she thought bitterly.  No, Walter was safe 
from exposure, unless of course Mulder kept digging.  And 
if Mulder found out, she could, perhaps, convince Walter to 
flee the jurisdiction ahead of being charged.  But she also 
had to rely on Walter, to some extent, to protect himself.
	For Susannah.
	//Susannah, Susannah!  Keep saying it, Dana.  And 
hold on.//
	//Hold on.//


Date: 27 April 1997
From: Fox_Mulder@xfiles.violentcrimes.fbi.gov
Subject: Formal Report Of Section Activities During Absence
To: Dana_Scully@xfiles.violentcrimes.fbi.gov
CC: Walter_Skinner@asstdirectors.executive.fbi.gov


Herewith is my brief report on my activities during your 
absence, at your request.

1.  The Easter Bunny Case (X425611L07)

No developments.  The Easter Bunny Killer, as the press 
have dubbed him, appears to have vanished.  One priest I 
have spoken to mentioned that liturgically, Easter is 
considered to continue until Pentecost.  He feels the dates 
of the murders may be significant.  Followup:  At leisure, 
but preferably before next Easter (haha).

2.  Van Blundht  (X425611L03)

Eddie Van Blundht was sentenced to nine years prison for 
sexual assault and assaulting a federal officer.  His 
court-appointed psychologist argued for acquittal, saying 
he demonstrated "pre-moral development without an 
understanding of the rights of others, but also a complete 
lack of malice.  Her testimony and the fact that he is 
paying voluntary child support for the five children were 
substantial factors in reducing his sentence.  *shrug* go 
figure.  All five babies faring well, with no sign of 
voluntary dermal musculature among them.  Case closed, and 
thank God for it.

3. Agent Sean David Pendrell (X425611W89)

Not surprisingly, there's been no progress on the murder of 
David Pendrell.  I've been instructed to make the case 
inactive unless further evidence emerges.  However, on a 
personal note, his next of kin - his parents - are on some 
kind of safari adventure trip in South America, and are not 
able to be contacted until their return in July.  The 
extended family is reluctant to claim the body.  The 
Coroner has agreed to keep the body at the County Morgue 
until that time.  The extended family has suggested we 
tentatively note July 14 for the funeral.

4.  Those Rotten Bees (X425611X09)

This is a bit more interesting.  Earlier this week, bees 
carrying smallpox apparently killed a postal worker named 
Jane Brody.  The crime scene was tampered with - cleaned up 
completely, in fact.  Body stolen from the morgue, blood 
samples stolen - you know the drill.  Detective Ray Thomas 
from Desmond PD was murdered, apparently because he was on 
the right track.  

Since then, a playground has been subject to an outbreak of 
the bees - three children and a teacher died; another 
seventeen are quarantined.  The surviving children and 
their parents are under military "protection" until they're 
in the clear. Most of the forensic evidence and computer 
files have gone missing, too.  I have a handful of 
photographs of Jane Brody but that's about all.  My source, 
M., says the playground was a test, but that there is no 
immediate danger of a full-scale outbreak.  M. also states 
that subsequent tests should be monitored.  

My personal assessment is that while the case is one for 
concern, the trail is dead.  We must remain alert for 
similar situations in the future, but there is no further 
information to be gained by pursuing this one.  Security 
suggestion: Change computer passwords and increase firewall 
protection.  Enquire about possibility of transferring non-
active X File archives to another facility.

That's it:  Another week, another mutant.  Welcome back.


	Mulder sat back in his chair with a dissatisfied 
expression.  He hated lying to Scully, and he feared she 
would know it, which was why he chose to do so by e-mail 
rather than in person.  As it was, he felt it highly 
unlikely that she would believe him where Jane Brody was 
concerned.  He could almost hear her thoughts on reading 
the e-mail - //Mulder saying it's time to let a case go?  I 
don't think so!// - but she would have little choice but to 
accept given a complete lack of evidence available to her.  
	The evidence.  After discovering Skinner's part in 
the disposal of Jane Brody's body, Mulder had personally 
destroyed much of the evidence against him, but some of it 
he had retained as a way of protecting the man should 
further incriminating evidence came to light.  In the event 
that Skinner's part in the cover-up was exposed, he wanted 
to be able to show how he had been framed for Detective 
Thomas' murder.  The evidence was "misfiled" in a way that 
would make its location difficult, but Scully could not be 
	Mulder frowned.  Scully must never know that the man 
she loved had fallen in with these people to protect her.  
The guilt would devastate her.  And Skinner wanted to give 
this gift to her as all good men do - secretly, without 
acknowledgement.  It seemed unsatisfactory to him - he 
ached to tell Scully how much she meant to Skinner, what he 
was doing for her - but there was honour among men as well 
as women, and this was how Skinner wanted to play it.
	Mulder moved the cursor over a button, and hesitated.  
Then clicked.


	//That's it:  Another week, another mutant.  Welcome 
	Scully rose to her feet, massaging her aching nose.  
Her cancer-ridden sinus felt like it was decaying beneath 
her skull some days.  She grabbed two morphine tablets, 
checked her watch, and saw she had already taken too much 
in too short a time.  She dry-swallowed them anyway.
	//He lied.//
	//Mulder lied to me.//
	She had already gone into the office while Mulder was 
out, and she had quickly found the evidence he had 
"misfiled".  It was a trick he had pulled many times in the 
early days of their partnership, when he hadn't been sure 
whether he could trust her.  She had quickly caught on.  He 
used mental tricks to keep the misfiles straight - usually 
nothing so overt as the same initials, but the misfiles had 
a distinctive run of call numbers, and their names were 
usually an in-joke.  She had flicked through the 
names...Clinton Williams...Katherine Fox...Max Chedd.
        She stopped.
        //The Big Cheese//, she had translated.  A surveillance 
photograph of Walter at Desmond PD was there, presumably 
proving that Walter had tampered with the evidence.
	So Mulder knew.  And he knew she was dying, and he 
was trying to protect her from the truth until she died.  
Then he would, no doubt, move in for the kill.  And who 
would protect Susannah then?  She hung her head, silent 
tears coursing down her cheeks.
	Her lover had betrayed her, and now her best friend 
had lied to her.  In a way, that was almost as bad.  Her 
life was a tornado, and she was alone in the deathly silent 
centre amid the chaos.  She was at ground zero.
	Scully had never felt so alone in her life.

Someone I Trusted XII: Redux, in which Scully turns on
Someone I Trusted XIII: Tergiversate, in which Scully
learns the truth from an unexpected source
Someone I Trusted XIV: Pendrell's Legacy, in which Sarron's
meaning becomes clear