- 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 XII: Redux *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 mentioned.

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, Zero Sum, Gethsemane, Redux.

Category:  Story, Romance (Skinner/Scully).

Rating:  NC17 for sex. 

Summary:  Sequel to Someone I Trusted I-XI, in which 
Scully turns on Skinner.

Continuity note: In Redux, we see phone records which 
indicate a rough time frame of November 1997 (the air 
dates of Redux and Redux II).  As is often the problem 
with cliff-hanger stories, however, this story follows 
very quickly on from Season 4 in content.  Therefore, I 
am following the air date of Gethsemane and situating 
the story in May 1997, just three weeks after Zero Sum.

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 
Someone I Trusted XI:  Ground Zero, in which Skinner 
deals for Scully's life - and fertility.

Someone I Trusted XII:  Redux *NC17* 1/1
Deslea R. Judd
drjudd@primus.com.au drjudd@catholic.org
Copyright 1998, 1999


	Skinner sighed deeply, looking out over the city.  
Scully was out there somewhere, following some new dark 
path at which he could only guess.  He glanced over his 
shoulder at the report on his desk, then returned to his 
original stance.  The words in it haunted him.

	//Deceased is male, Caucasian, 6 feet tall with 
brown hair and green eyes, between 35 and 40 years of 
age.  Post-mortem examination revealed two gunshot 
wounds to the head of the deceased.  The point of entry 
of the earlier wound was the left temple.  The entry 
wound is consistent with a bullet fired at point-blank 
range.  The bullet perforated the left temporal lobe 
before lodging in the cerebrum, causing massive 
haemorrhaging, resulting in brain death.  This gunshot 
was administered between 11.30pm on May 17, 1997 and 
1.30am, May 18, 1997.  A second gunshot was administered 
post-mortem to the bridge of the nose.  The bullet 
perforated the frontal sinus before lodging in the 
cerebellum.  This bullet shattered the vomer bone, nasal 
bone, maxilla, zygomatic bone, and sphenoid bone, 
sending bone fragments into the eyes and throughout the 
facial musculature, removing the possibility of facial 
	As regards identification, fingerprints and the 
lower jaw and teeth are intact.  The right index finger 
bears an aged scar perforating an elongated whorl.  This 
is not consistent with an earlier identification of the 
deceased as Fox William Mulder (d.o.b. 10/13/61).  
Searches were conducted of both the criminal and Federal 
employee databases, resulting in a tentative fingerprint 
match (99.796% probability) with Scott Andrew Ostellhoff 
(d.o.b. 12/17/58).  Dental records are expected to 
verify these findings within 48 hours.//

	Old habits died hard, he supposed.  Briefly 
relieved to discover that his old friend was alive, he 
had moved towards the telephone to tell Scully the news, 
before his hand fell away.  For he and Scully - the 
woman he supposed was still his fiancee - were only just 
on speaking terms after several heated arguments.
	Hot on the heels of this saddening thought was 
another, more sinister one.  One that sent his worry 
levels about twenty notches higher than before.
	//Scully already knows.//
	Of course she knew.  It had been Scully who had 
identified the body originally as Mulder.  Skinner had 
toyed longingly with the idea that she had genuinely 
believed it was he, but he didn't believe that, not 
really.  Mulder would never pull off a stunt like this 
without Scully behind him - he wouldn't dare.
	Now, Skinner wondered why Scully would lie at this 
late date.  Four years of protecting Mulder behind her, 
and she had never lied.  Withheld information, yes, but 
to lie?  No.  It was not only scruple, but also scorn.  
Only those afraid to face up to their own actions lied - 
that was Scully's code. 
	He considered the dead man.  Scott Ostellhoff.  
Department of Defence, according to the Federal employee 
database.  Level 4 security clearance.  A big gun, then.  
That was about right, with the slime Mulder usually 
managed to get caught up in.  He shook his head with a 
	Whatever the truth of it, Scully knew well enough 
that she could not hope for more than 48 hours before 
the deception was discovered in the usual scheme of 
things.  She would have expected the body to be found 
late today - perhaps even by her - with an autopsy 
tonight or tomorrow morning and then, after the second 
gunshot wound was found, identification procedures 
tomorrow afternoon.  He doubted that she had factored in 
the body's discovery at 6am by a drunken neighbour 
turning the wrong doorknob; far less Blevins ordering an 
immediate inquiry, wanting to end all possibility of the 
X Files ever seeing the light of day again.  Therefore, 
Skinner reasoned, she and Mulder had much less time up 
their sleeves than they needed.
	Skinner frowned.  He was loath to help them, given 
the circumstances, but Scully was to testify that night 
in front of a joint panel of FBI executives.  Just what 
was he supposed to do, expose his daughter's mother as a 
criminal?  At least, if he covered for her, he might be 
able to get them out of whatever mess they were in 
before it came to that.
	The telephone rang.
	"Yes, Amy," he said tersely, noting the extension 
on the small LED monitor.  0130.  Amy was the group 
secretary to himself, Section Chief Blevins, AD Kersh 
and Section Chief Randolph.
	"Sorry to disturb you, Sir.  Your assistant isn't 
at her desk.  I was just wondering whether you wanted me 
to do anything about Agent Mulder's workload.  Would you 
like me to have Personnel assign Agent Scully a 
temporary assistant?"
	Skinner frowned.  "Not just yet, Amy.  I need to 
speak with Scully before I make any decisions.  Could 
you locate her for me, please?"
	"Yes, Sir.  Do you mind holding?"
	"No, go ahead."
	Silence for a moment, then Amy came back on the 
line.  "She's not in her office, Sir, but Lisbeth on 
basement reception says she left for American University 
about ten minutes ago."
	Skinner nodded slowly, thanked her, and rang off.

	Skinner's missing assistant, meanwhile, was 
downstairs in the PABX room.
	Holly was speaking.  "I spoke to Dana Scully this 
morning.  The poor woman's in total shock.  You know how 
you go through those McDonald's Drive Thrus, and the 
attendant is almost on auto-pilot?  It's like talking to 
a robot.  They're doing the work but it's like the 
person isn't really there."
	"I know," Kimberley said quietly.  She was 
thinking of Skinner after Dana's cancer had been 
diagnosed.  But Holly knew nothing of this, so she kept 
her peace, instead asking idly, "What did she want to 
	"It's funny you should ask, actually.  She had an 
extension number - 0130 - and she wanted to know whose 
it was.  It turned out to be Skinner's, in fact, and I 
realised later she should have known that, since she 
would have to call him a lot herself.  Poor girl really 
is in shock."
	Kimberley shook her head.  "Oh, no, Holly, 0130 is 
Amy West.  External calls to the executives are filtered 
through the group secretaries.  Technically speaking, 
0130 is the branch extension for Skinner, Kersh, 
Blevins, Randolph, and all their personal assistants, as 
well as Amy herself.  But Dana's staff, so she calls 
either me or AD Skinner direct." 
	Holly grimaced.  "Damn.  I'm glad I mentioned it 
to you, then - I'll have to let her know."
	Kimberley shrugged.  "No rush.  I'm sure it's not 
	But as it turned out, she was wrong.


	"Damn it, move," Scully muttered to the midday 
	She flicked off the radio, irritated, and waited 
as the queues of cars, lined up like sparkling jewels in 
the heat, were directed patiently around roadworks by 
waiting cops.  She looked at her watch wearily.
	It had been a hard sixty hours, starting with the 
confirmation that her cancer had metastasised.  By 
extraordinary bad luck, a draining family dinner had 
followed later the same day - the Scullys, not Walter 
and Susannah.  She hadn't invited Walter, and her mother 
was not coping well with her adoption of a girl just 
fifteen years younger than herself.  
	And then, Mulder's call.
	He'd wanted her to come to the Smithsonian 
Institute.  Right now, of course.  Thankful for the 
excuse if not for the story behind it, she had used it 
to get the hell away from her family.  She loved them, 
but sometimes they seemed to be killing her softly with 
their solicitude.
	The story had been typical for Mulder.  An alien 
corpse, frozen up in Canada, maybe two hundred years 
old.  Already exhausted, she had refused to follow him 
to the Yukon.  Dismayed, Mulder asked her to at least 
examine and verify the ice core samples.  Wearily, she 
had agreed; and the samples checked out.
	The sample had been stolen - fortunately, after 
samples of some unusual chimeras had been removed for 
further testing - but Scully had given chase.  She had 
been thrown down a flight of stairs, where Vitagliano, 
her fellow scientist, found her, taking her to hospital, 
bruised and bleeding.  Her brother, Bill, had come the 
next morning - mostly to chastise her for not wrapping 
herself, still alive, in her shroud.
	She had found the man responsible easily enough, 
but what he had to say was less easy to contend with.  
Michael Kritschgau was with the Department of Defence, 
part of a plot to discredit Mulder by convincing Mulder 
to commit publicly to something that would be disproved.  
Disillusioned and powered by an agenda of his own, 
however, he would tell what he knew.  The so-called 
proofs were a sham, and Scully had been given her cancer 
to make him believe.  Mulder, who had just assisted with 
and was convinced by an autopsy on the alien corpse, was 
dismayed and suspicious.  Scully had accompanied him to 
the autopsy site, where, as Kritschgau had predicted, 
the scientists were dead and the corpse, missing.  
Mulder had left her, his expression worried and guilt-
	She had walked for a long time after Mulder left 
	//She had been given her cancer in order to make 
Mulder believe.//
	Absurd!  Mulder had been a believer all his life.
	But he had never committed publicly, representing 
a government agency.  He had never made that final, 
possibly damning statement of belief.  And if he had 
made it, only to have the evidence disappear (or, worse, 
replaced by something easily proven fake), his work 
would be over.  His job would be lost, as well as his 
credibility.  He would be reduced to touring the 
paranormal conferences on his own money.  His work would 
	But could they really believe he would go public 
without the corpse and the scientists to back him up?  
Did they really believe he was that stupid?
	But if she were dying...if he wanted the 
resolution to their quest for her so badly, and this 
corpse was her last chance for them to do it...yeah, she 
could see that.
	She shuffled around the inevitable thought for 
some time; but at last, it could not be denied.
	//Walter did this.//
	He had ordered her abduction; she knew that.  He 
knew what was done to the women there.  He was the one 
pulling the strings.  He was the one meant to keep she 
and Mulder under a tight rein.  He had orchestrated it 
all - her own death, Mulder's demise.  
	She recoiled at the thought.  Skinner was dirty - 
she knew that; had known it for some time.  But that he 
had intentionally set out to hurt her, personally...that 
was an obvious conclusion she had, nonetheless, been 
shying away from.
	Until now.
	Because, God help her, she loved him.
	At last, angry, aching, and miserable, she had 
returned to her home, only to find Mulder there.
	A car horn broke her reverie.  Blinking, she drove 
on.  She was through the worst of the traffic block now; 
but she had no recollection of getting here.
	Mulder's news had been enough to make her want to 
bury herself in a hole in the ground (her grave, maybe, 
her mind taunted).  But she was Bill Scully's daughter, 
and she would not go down in defeat.  War, peace, 
acceptance, courage - any of these, yes.  But defeat? 
Never that.
	A man from the Department of Defence had been 
surveilling Mulder's apartment for some months - a man 
named Ostellhoff, a man in regular contact with someone 
at the FBI, someone at extension 0130...a man now dead 
of a shotgun wound to the face.  He wanted Scully to 
identify the body as he, Mulder, so that he might work 
out who was responsible for the surveillance - and, by 
implication, Scully's cancer and the hoax.  Hoping that 
she would not even be called upon to identify the body 
before Mulder was done, she had reluctantly agreed.
	But fate had been against her, and Mulder had been 
found by the purest of bad luck early this morning.  Her 
brief sleep had been shattered by a request to identify 
"Mulder", and she had done so.  Walter had been there, 
and instantly found a hole in her identification - 
namely, that the man was, by definition, unidentifiable.  
She didn't lie well, and to this man she could not lie 
at all.  She had said, weakly, truthfully, that he was 
wearing the same clothes as Mulder the night before.
	Walter had cornered her again, just two hours 
later, asking her to identify a picture of Michael 
Kritschgau - a picture she recognised as originating 
from within Mulder's apartment.  Her fear had crept up a 
notch.  Walter was onto her, and he was prepared to risk 
exposing his crimes to bring her down.
	Unless she brought him down first.
	"I love you, Walter," she murmured painfully to 
herself, "but I'm going to bring you to justice.  You 
will be made accountable for all that has been lost."
	So saying, Scully switched off the ignition, and 
made her way into the University.

	Something was wrong.
	Vitagliano didn't look excited, and he should 
have.  Alien conspiracies aside, the chimera cells were, 
scientifically speaking, a fascinating project.
	But he didn't.  He looked worried.
	"They're beginning somatic development?" Scully 
demanded, astonished.  She peered into the microscope in 
horrified fascination.
	"The beginning of a life-form," Vitagliano agreed.  
"Growing into what, I couldn't say."
	Scully stared down at the - the //thing// - in 
confusion.  Her mind raced with a hundred theories, each 
of which she discarded in an instant as unworkable.  But 
there was one - one that kept returning to her.
	//They gave you this disease to make Mulder 
	//The alien corpse was to make Mulder believe.//
	//They gave you this disease to make Mulder 
	//The alien corpse-//
	"You said there were viruses throughout these 
cells, didn't you?" she said abruptly.
	"Sure," Vitagliano said.  "The life-form's teeming 
with them."
	"I'd like you to draw some blood," she said, her 
eyes never leaving that strange developing thing.  At 
his querying sound, she added, "Mine."

	"I want you to do a Southern Blot," Scully said 
quietly, her hand clasped to the pinprick wound inside 
her elbow, "to run the culture you've shown me against 
my own DNA."
	"Right," Vitagliano said, nodding.  "What are you 
looking for?"
	"A match," she said evenly, meeting his bewildered 
gaze.  "And I need it by seven."
	Vitagliano shook his head.  "Tonight?" he said 
incredulously.  "Never happen.  Not unless we have a 
blazing hot probe."
	"It has to happen," Scully said painfully.  
"Everything in my life depends on it."
	Vitagliano's eyes were concerned; but he nodded 
gravely, and took her blood sample and the culture from 
the room.

	Scully was worried.
	She watched Vitagliano leave with her blood 
sample.  She would go and help him with the near-
impossible task she had given him; but first she would 
sit and collect her thoughts.  He was a good man; he 
could be relied on to be thorough, and he would not 
begrudge her these minutes' rest.
	A movement caught her eye.
	Startled, she glanced up at the door and saw 
Walter peering in.  Seeing him watching her, he moved 
away hurriedly.
	Scully leaped to her feet and followed him.  She 
burst out into the corridor, turned, and saw him.
	"What are you doing here?" she demanded.
	"I was about to ask you the same question," 
Skinner lied weakly.
	"No, you weren't," she snapped.  "You followed me 
here.  Why are you following me?" she demanded.  "Is 
this more dirty work you're doing for the DOD?"
	He concealed a start at that.  Ostellhoff was with 
the Department of Defense.  But that meant she believed 
he was part of whatever she and Mulder were involved in.  
Of course she did.
	A memory came to him - Blevins ordering the 
inquiry, Blevins giving him the strange photograph of 
Michael Kritschgau that seemed to have been taken from 
within Mulder's apartment.  It came to him that Blevins 
knew there was at least a chance that the dead man was 
not Mulder - knowledge he was, for now, concealing.  The 
other man wanted to give Scully the opportunity to bury 
Mulder and herself before the deception came to light. 
Scully would continue to believe he, Skinner, was the 
mole, and walk straight into Blevins' trap.  And there 
was no explanation he could make, no warning that he 
could give, which this woman he lived for would believe.
	And so, because there was nothing he could say to 
her, he accused her instead.
	"Why don't you tell me something, Agent Scully?  
Why don't you tell me what you're doing here?"  He met 
her gaze.  "Your lie is on the record, Agent Scully."
	"And yours?" she demanded.
	"On my desk," he went on, ignoring her suspicions 
for the moment, "I have the pathology and forensics 
report on the body found in Agent Mulder's apartment.  
You have to answer for yourself in five hours.  As you 
compound the lies, you compound the consequences for 
	"All lies lead to the truth, don't they?" she 
challenged, lightly mocking.
	"And what about your lie?  What does it lead to?" 
he retorted.  
	"The truth," she declared solemnly.  "About the 
men behind what happened to me.  About the abduction and 
the tests.  About my being exposed to something against 
my will.  About being put on a table and having 
something implanted in me.  About having my memories 
stolen, only to have them return along with a disease I 
was given."
	//...only to have them return//
	A suspicion came over him, a dawning certainty.  
She had remembered.
	She'd remembered it all.  No wonder she hated him.
	"Is that your justification?" he managed weakly.  
"Is that what you're going to tell the joint panel this 
	"Are you afraid of that?" she challenged.
	Blevins' face loomed before him.  He told her 
urgently, "Considering the dead man in Mulder's 
apartment was murdered in cold blood and you wilfully 
misidentified him, yes, I am afraid."  His voice 
softened as they beheld each other.  "But I'm only 
afraid for you.
	"You're going to use that against me, aren't you?  
You're going to use me as I've been used all along," she 
said bitterly.  "To preserve the lie."
"Where is Agent Mulder?" he demanded futilely.
Scully looked at him mutinously, then turned to leave.
	"Your silence won't save you, Scully.  Not with 
these people.  And if you lie, I don't know if anything 
	She turned then, striding back to him.  "And you; 
what will save you?"
	"I don't need saving," he said uneasily.
	"You're wrong, Walter," she said, her eyes dark 
with malice.
	"Don't you dare call me that.  Not in threat," he 
warned, his voice deathly quiet.  "Not the name we have 
shared in love."
	"You never loved me," she said bitterly.
	Did she really believe that?  God help them, if 
she did.  He shook his head.  "That's not true, Dana.  
Believe anything else about me, but never believe that."  
Then, quietly, "And you can't say you don't love me."  
He approached her, pinned her firmly but not harshly 
against the door.  "Can you?"
	She stared up at him, too stricken to fight.  
"Walter-" she broke off.
	"Can you?" he demanded again, his hands on her 
arms gently firm, his breath hot on her.  
	The misery flared.  She loved him, had always 
loved him.  And the bittersweet thing of it all was that 
she knew perfectly well that he really did love her, 
just as he said.  Like hers, his was the torturous blind 
love of one who must destroy the other, whatever the 
cost.  Torn, her body ached for him, ached to be held, 
and she stifled a wounded moan.  She realised suddenly 
that her own hands were grasping his jacket, keeping him 
against her should he pull away.  His lips closed 
sweetly over hers.  
	"Can you?" he breathed against her mouth.  His 
tongue slid along her lips, teasing her tenderly, 
unhurriedly.  His lips cherished hers, not demanding, 
just loving her as he awaited her answer.
	Was it her despair, or her desperate loneliness?  
She would never know, but she felt her tortured mind 
shut down and her mouth open to receive him.  She clung 
to him, her body melding to his, her mind protesting 
only with the vaguest of fragments.
	//-betrayed me-//
	Flashes of memory.  His arms around her as she lay 
dying in the cabin, that bittersweet act of love-
betrayal.  She kissed him tenderly, adoringly, unsure 
whether the tears on her cheeks were her own or his.  He 
cradled her face in his hands, his touch exquisitely 
joy-painful to her soul.  She fumbled down behind her to 
the door handle and turned it.  They fell into the lab 
with a clatter.  He closed it behind them, turning the 
	//-we're alone, he knows I could expose him, he 
could kill me now-//
	But if he were to kill her, he wouldn't do it like 
this.  He would do it with honesty, and then he would 
turn the gun on himself.
	Walter looked on her, his eyes unnaturally bright.  
He looked on her, this one he loved and hated and loved, 
this one who took his love for her and turned it on him 
as a weapon.  This one who was faithless in her distrust 
and who, inexplicably, loved him anyway.  And he thought 
his heart would break with the terrible sorrow of it.  
He stroked her, gentle with adoration yet desperate with 
fear, fear that she would refuse him, even now.  But she 
was beyond that now.  She wanted him, needed him, one 
more time.
	"You love me," he said implacably, his hands on 
her belly, fumbling with her waistband.
	//-lied to me-//
	"No," she insisted breathlessly, pushing his 
jacket off his shoulders.  Her skirt fell to the floor, 
and she yanked his tie askew and pulled it over his 
head.  "No," she repeated, her voice stronger this time.
	She was unbuttoning his shirt.  He stopped her, 
cradling her face, and kissed her, chastely, eyes, nose, 
forehead, mouth, in something like worship.  There was 
no mistaking it this time; the tears were streaming down 
her cheeks.  She endured his cherishing with exquisite 
agony, kissing his hand before putting it to her heart.  
It rested there for one long, still moment in which 
there may have been forgiveness for each; but then the 
moment passed.
	And then hands sought him once more, and he 
dragged her t-shirt over her head.  "Yes," he said with 
certainty.  He pressed his mouth to hers.
	"No," she gasped between kisses.  She was 
unfastening his belt.  "No, I won't love you, I won't!"  
The misery had become bright, determined anger, and her 
kiss was sweetly harsh.
	//-took everything from me, my ova, my children-//
	"But you do," he whispered softly, insidiously.  
"Tell me you do."
	//-gave me everything, love, my daughter-//
	Their bodies moved together, flesh against flesh, 
bodies that knew nothing of the agony of the souls that 
controlled them, bodies that sought only oneness with 
their mate.  He worshipped the one who had betrayed him 
in her heart and sought to bring her home; she adored 
the one who had betrayed her in his actions and sought 
to redeem him; and both sought to reclaim something 
between them they no longer dared name.
	"No," she breathed, her voice thick with sudden 
tears.  He held her against him, understanding that her 
//no// was for herself, not for him, and he claimed her 
mouth once more.  She returned his kiss with impassioned 
	"You want me," he breathed, lowering her to the 
	"Yes," she whispered harshly.  She cried out with 
terrible need as the bead of his heat touched her, 
parting her; and she opened to him, hating herself for 
her weakness even as she took him into herself.
	"You need me."  He was inside her, stroking, and 
she was rising to meet him in that dark dance of love, 
that dance where life and death met and were one.
	"Yes," she countered furiously.  She cradled his 
face and kissed him, tenderly, as the fight left her.  
"Yes," she whispered.  There was no artifice; she was 
shaking with bitter tears; and she tasted his own in his 
mouth, on his lips.  "Why are you doing this to me?" she 
	"You love me!" he breathed out fiercely, his hands 
at her cheeks, thumbs stroking her face tenderly.  She 
bit down hard on her lips, closed eyes streaming.  "Tell 
	She met his gaze.  "Yes," she whispered bitterly 
as she came.  "God help me, I love you."  She fell 
against him, weeping, as he filled her, as the oneness 
they had made ended, forever.
	He slowed, holding her close, touching her wet 
cheeks in wonder.  "Dana, Dana, please don't.  I love 
you so much."
	"I love you too," she wept, her voice angry and 
self-loathing.  "You know I do."
	Walter's voice was bright with dawning hope.  
"This changes everything - everything."
	Scully wrenched herself from his arms, dragging 
her t-shirt across the floor and putting it on.  "This 
changes nothing," she said shakily.  Then, more 
strongly, "Nothing at all."
	He watched her dress, and she returned his gaze 
steadily; and in that moment, his hope died.  He 
regarded her for some moments, his lover, his beloved.
	His enemy.
	"I'm not afraid of you, Dana."
	"You should be," she said, her words chilling him.
	"Because I'm going to bring you down."


	"There it is," Scully said wearily.
	Vitagliano stared at her.
	"My DNA hybridised with the viral DNA from the 
cell culture," she said dully.
	"Yes."  Vitagliano found his voice.  "But that 
would mean that the material in the ice-core sample -" 
he stopped, with dread fascination, before starting 
again, "You'd have to have DNA from the unidentified 
chimera cells in your own body."
	"I know," Scully said in that deadened voice.
	//It's all true.  They gave me this disease.  The 
same people behind the hoax.  The same people who were 
watching Mulder.  The same people who are working with 
Walter.  It's all true, and Walter was the one who did 
	She thought she would suffocate.
	"But how?" Vitagliano was asking.  "And how did 
you know?"
	"I believe I was exposed to this material," she 
said, with an evenness she did not feel.  "And it is 
responsible for giving me a serious illness."
	"What kind of illness?"  She met his gaze, this 
man who had served her so faithfully these twenty-four 
	"One that cannot be cured."

	"I come here today, four years later, to report on 
the illegitimacy of Agent Mulder's work."
	Scully watched the infinitesimal exchanges of eye 
contact among the panel, noted the varying degrees of 
satisfaction among them, and hated them.
	She wove her lie into the truth effortlessly.  
Mulder, she reported, had been deceived, by men who 
wanted him discredited.  Men who used alien conspiracy 
to conceal their real agenda - biowarfare.  Men who had 
used their evil technology to engineer her cancer, and 
force Mulder to come forward, only to be shot down, once 
and for all.
	Her cancer had metastasised, she revealed 
emotionlessly, and noted the clearly genuine sorrow in 
several faces, including Blevins'.  With her only other 
likely suspect cleared, in her mind, by his sadness at 
what had been done to her, her heart sank.  She had not 
needed any further confirmation of Walter's guilt, but 
it seemed she had been given it anyway.
	Mulder's devastation at what had been done to both 
of them had led to his suicide, she claimed, now far off 
into the land of fairytales.  Skinner entered, meeting 
her eye with grave concern as he caught her in her lie.  
He held a file - the file that would prove her 
deception.  She turned away.  The cards were out and she 
would let them fall where they would.
	Blevin questioned her about her claims.
	"What I have here is proof undeniable that the men 
who gave me this disease were also behind the hoax.  A 
plot designed to lead to Agent Mulder's demise, and my 
own.  Planned and executed by someone in this room."  
She ignored the sounds of outrage, raising her voice 
only slightly to be heard.  "What I have in my hand is 
scientific evidence-"
	Skinner saw the blood spotting on the x ray film 
before she did.
	Everything seemed to move very slowly then.  Half-
turning towards the panel, wiping the blood at her nose.  
Feeling her body give way.  Skinner moving forwards as 
she began to crumple; and she remained alert just long 
enough to note the real agony in his eyes.  His arms 
around her - arms that had held her, embraced her, loved 
her these two years.  She wanted to seek refuge in them 
and push them away in equal measure.  And as the noise 
seemed to grow remote, she found just enough fight in 
her to open her eyes, meeting his grieving gaze, to make 
her bitter accusation.

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

A Marriage Of Convenience (Scully/Skinner, post-Redux, 
follows mytharc)
Pregnant Pause (Scully/Skinner, post-Emily)
Offspring (Scully/Skinner, XF, mytharc novel, Piper Maru 
On The Outside (mini-novel, Offspring prequel, mytharc, 
Sam/other, Colony backstory)
One Endless Night (Skinner/Scully, some mytharc Colony 
to Emily)
The Field Where My Love Died (TFWID vignette, implied 
The Field Where My Love Prevailed (TFWID vignette, 
implied MSR)
Someone I Trusted (Series) (Scully/Skinner, follows 
A Soul, Unbound (Emily vignette, missing scene, 
A Teletubby X File (Humour, story, XF/Teletubbies 
Why Did The Chicken Cross The Road?  An XF Primer 
Borderline (unfinished mini-novel, MSR, some Sc/Sk)
Lyrics of the Heart (unfinished mini-novel, MSR, 
characters die, lotsa karaoke)
Smokin' Maggie (unfinished mini-novel, mytharc, MSR, not 
yet available)
Evolutions (unfinished novel, not yet available, 
Offspring sequel, mytharc, Sk/Sc,  Samantha, Redux