========================================================================== NOTICE: - 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 DISCLAIMER 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). PREVIOUS TITLES: 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, 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 ONE: SKINNER 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 identification. 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 sigh. 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 know?" "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 important." But as it turned out, she was wrong. TWO: SCULLY "Damn it, move," Scully muttered to the midday traffic. 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. Literally. 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- ridden. She had walked for a long time after Mulder left her. //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 end. 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 believe.// //The alien corpse was to make Mulder believe.// //They gave you this disease to make Mulder believe.// //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. THREE: SCULLY AND SKINNER 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 them." "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 evening?" "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 can." 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 lock. //-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 savagery. "You want me," he breathed, lowering her to the floor. "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 wept. "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 me!" 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." FOUR: REDUX "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 it.// 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 hours. "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. "You." COMING SOON: 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 BY THE SAME AUTHOR: A Marriage Of Convenience (Scully/Skinner, post-Redux, follows mytharc) Pregnant Pause (Scully/Skinner, post-Emily) Offspring (Scully/Skinner, XF, mytharc novel, Piper Maru backstory) 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 MSR) The Field Where My Love Prevailed (TFWID vignette, implied MSR) Someone I Trusted (Series) (Scully/Skinner, follows mytharc) A Soul, Unbound (Emily vignette, missing scene, Scullyangst) A Teletubby X File (Humour, story, XF/Teletubbies crossover) Why Did The Chicken Cross The Road? An XF Primer (Humour) 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 backstory)