TITLE: What is this love…
AUTHOR: DanaK35; danak35@yahoo.com
URL: http://danak35.tripod.com/
DISTRIBUTION: OK as long as my info stays 
on it.
SPOILER WARNING: Season 7 from Brand X, 
some Season 8
RATING: PG-13
CLASSIFICATION: S, R, A, 3rd Person POV, 
fluff
KEYWORDS: Sk/other, Sk/S friendship 
SUMMARY: When I met him I knew he would 
be the love of my life, but I found out that I 
couldn't be his…
DISCLAIMER: 'The X-Files' and all 'The X-
Files' related characters and situations are 
the intellectual property of the Chris Carter, 
1013 Productions and the FOX network. The 
following material is not intended to infringe 
on the above copyright in any way. Which 
means, they aren't mine, I just borrowed 
them, so please don't sue, I don't have 
anything... Kate is my own invention.


What is this love…
by DanaK35

I still remember meeting him like it was 
yesterday.

It was in a Starbucks downtown on a rainy 
Saturday afternoon.

I was sitting on one of those overstuffed 
sofas, where you can feel the springs through 
the upholstery and which make it almost 
impossible to get up again, once you've 
settled comfortably. I had my full-fat latte, a 
new book and for once enough time at my 
hands. You see, for me time had become a 
luxury then. Between opening a bookstore 
with my best friend in Georgetown and 
studying at night, it was a rare commodity in 
my life. There was nothing like a free 
afternoon.

I was so engrossed in my book that I didn't 
even notice the figure standing next to my 
table.

"Excuse me, is this chair taken?"

I looked up and nodded, unable to utter a 
word. He must have thought me a complete 
idiot.

He sat down, placing his cup of coffee – a 
real one not the paper ones they have – on 
the small table, next to my bag, my phone 
and my cigarettes.

I was coming to this place for some time now 
but I had never seen him before. He wasn't a 
Starbucks man, not the kind that sits down 
quietly with a cup of coffee anyway. 

While he opened his briefcase and dug out 
some papers, I took the chance to study him. 
Tall, muscular built, bald, at least ten years 
older than me; expensive briefcase, glasses; 
wearing a Boss suit and tie. Strong, beautiful 
hands that removed folders from his 
briefcase, trying to find some space on the 
cluttered table.

"Here, let me move this," I muttered, 
grabbing my stuff and placing it next to me 
on the couch. I suddenly felt like a teenager 
again.

"Thanks." He looked up then and my breath 
caught in my throat. 

He was staring right back at me with the 
darkest eyes I had ever seen and he had the 
most sensual mouth. 

Just listening to his hoarse voice sent a 
shiver down my spine. 

He didn't break the gaze and for a moment 
our eyes were dancing with each other. My 
heart was beating in my throat; we were 
suspended in time and motion, the sounds 
from the street and the other patrons of the 
coffee shop no longer mattering.

Then his mobile phone chirped and the 
moment was over. 

I cleared my throat, sat back down and 
picked up my book. The letters didn't make 
any sense anymore.

He talked briefly in a quite, commanding 
voice, then switched off the phone, placing it 
next to his coffee.

It immediately rang again and when he 
picked up again, his voice was angered.

"Skinner! No… I did not get that, yes I know… 
OK, yes I'll be there, who cares what day it 
is… yeah, OK." He hung up again muttering a 
curse.

"You should just switch it off, you know," I 
dared to say, looking up and straight into his 
eyes again.

"Excuse me?"

"It is the weekend after all… you should 
switch off your phone and just leave the big 
deal or whatever until Monday…"

He shot me an irritated glance and for a brief 
moment I thought I had gone to far. But then 
he smiled.

"You are probably right," he answered, "but 
there are things that cannot be put off." He 
stood then, removing his heavy coat and suit 
jacket, revealing even more muscular arms 
and a broad chest.

'To be held by these arms, to place my head 
on that chest, just for a moment'. The 
thought shot unbidden through my brain and 
I felt myself blush. 

I cleared my throat again. I just had to keep 
this going. "So what is it you do, that is so 
important you cannot even enjoy your 
weekend?"

For a moment I thought he would just turn 
away but then he sat back down again and 
took a sip of his coffee. 

"I am with the FBI."

"Oh." Was all I could answer. That explained 
a lot. I turned back to my book, feeling 
stupid.

"And what is it you do?"

"I own a bookstore, just opened it, actually. 
This is my first Saturday off in 5 weeks. I 
plan to enjoy it to the fullest."

He snorted a laugh, as if he didn't believe 
that enjoying ones day could be something 
that could be accomplished, and picked up his 
file again.

"You should try it someday." I shot him a 
glance, one eyebrow raised, a smile on my 
face. I didn't want to let it go.

"Maybe I should." He closed the folder and 
stuffed it back into his briefcase. "Walter 
Skinner." He extended his large hand. I took 
it and felt their warmth surging through my 
cold ones. 

I smiled broadly as I introduced myself.

We ended up spending the afternoon talking. 
He sat back in the overstuffed chair and as 
he loosened his tie, he seemed to loosen up 
bit by bit himself. We talked about our jobs, 
about the book I was reading, about music 
and concerts and how hard it was to find 
some free time nowadays. It was easy like 
that.

Later, when the street lamps had come on 
and the rain outside had turned into light 
drizzle, he got up. "I am sorry, I have to 
leave. Got a plane to catch."

I was stunned for a second. So this was it. 
'Oh what did you expect?'

"Sure… can't keep the FBI waiting…"

"It was really nice talking to you, I really 
enjoyed the afternoon." He picked up his 
briefcase and started for the door.

"Hey, you know where to find me, if you'd like 
to talk again." I was surprised at my own 
boldness.

"Sure, I'll see you around."

And with that he left.

I didn't expect to see him again.


****************


He showed up, the next Saturday, and the 
following one.

As before he would only have plain coffee and 
I had to introduce him to the taste of latte or 
chai tea. He wasn't convinced but he tried 
and I laughed when he grimaced at the tea. 
He obviously did not have sweet tooth.

As before we talked the day away, completely 
oblivious to the other guests around us.

He made my heart beat faster, when he 
entered the coffee shop in his suit and tie, 
the way his eyes fixated on me when I said 
something.

Then he asked me to dinner. I accepted. 


****************


Spending hour after hour with him was easy. 
The age difference of fifteen years didn't 
matter; I'd always preferred men much older 
than me anyway.

We could talk about everything but his job. I 
didn't mind. I was curious but I understood 
he probably couldn't talk about thing to an 
outsider.

He never told me what he was doing on 
Sundays or during the week.

I never asked. Somehow I didn't want to 
know. On those Saturdays he belonged only 
to me.

That night, when he took me home, he kissed 
me for the first time. The sensation of his 
lips on mine, softly caressing and exploring, 
sent shivers down my spine.

Being held by him felt just as I had imagined, 
safe and warm and incredibly sexy. His heart 
beat almost as fast as mine did.

I wanted to ask him in, ask him to stay the 
night.

I didn't. 

I couldn't.

When he left, I wished I had.

That night I dreamt of him for the first time 
and in the morning I could almost feel him 
lying next to me, still part of my dream.

I knew then that he could become the love of 
my life. 

That he had the power to break my heart.


****************


He didn't show up the next Saturday and I 
was deeply disappointed. 

So he had changed his mind about me after 
all, was my first reaction. Sometimes I am 
insecure like that.

From the beginning I had sensed that he kept 
things from me, about his job, his past and 
his present.

I had never felt he trusted me enough for 
that.

There had been this uneasiness on my side 
that it couldn't last, that this time we had 
together was stolen, that he really didn't 
belong with me.


****************


When my doorbell rang on a Thursday night, I 
was surprised. I hadn't expected anyone at 
this hour.

Least of all him.

But there he was, as always in a dark suit, 
his eyes almost black in the moonlight.

"Can I come in?"

Wordlessly I stepped to the side, only briefly 
looking down at myself and my worn flannel 
pajamas.

I closed the door and turned around only to 
find myself being wrapped firmly in his arms.

He was kissing me, his hands gliding 
underneath my shirt and up my back. 

I couldn't speak, I couldn't even move.

The world around me ceased to exist, as his 
kisses grew more intense and my own grew 
more bold.

How I had wanted him all these weeks and 
now he was mine, I was free to loosen his tie 
and rip off the buttons of his shirt, my hands 
and lips exploring every inch of his body.

We never made it to the bedroom. Our 
lovemaking was hard, fast and almost 
furious. Taking possession of the other and 
satisfying ones owe need, was all that 
mattered.

Later he picked me up off the floor and gently 
placed me on my overlarge, velvet couch.

"Don't go!" I murmured.

"I'm not!" He said and turned down the 
lights. "I'll be right back."

I heard him switching on his mobile phone. 
"It's Skinner, how is he?" His voice was 
strained. "Yeah, no… Dana… Agent Scully, 
listen, there is nothing you could have done… 
you didn't know. Get some sleep, I'll be there 
tomorrow, no... that's an order, yes good 
night."

"Everything OK?"

He looked down at me thoughtfully before 
lying down behind me and wrapping his arms 
around me on the couch.

I could feel the hard muscles of his chest 
against my back, his breath in my ear.

"No, it's not OK… it's…" He hesitated, and I 
could almost feel his reluctance to trust me. 
"One of my agents got… poisoned I guess 
and he is in very grave condition. That was 
his partner I just spoke with."

That's how I came to hear of Agents Fox 
Mulder and Dana Scully. They seemed to be a 
great team, his friends but troublemakers. 
This time, Fox Mulder had been on an 
assignment with Walter and had been gravely 
injured. His partner, Agent Dana Scully, was a 
Medical doctor and was trying everything to 
safe him. 

They were rumored to be totally devoted to 
their work and to each other.

'Lucky them" I thought as I listened patiently 
as Walter rambled on, about how this was 
always happening and how he couldn't 
protect them forever, how he couldn't protect 
them from themselves.


Much later, we went to bed. This time our 
lovemaking was slow, an exploration of the 
other, all languid and soft. 

I wished we could have stayed like this 
forever.

When he fell asleep he murmured. "You are 
my sanity, you know that."

I didn't answer, but slept better than I had in 
a long time.


****************


After that night, we saw each other more 
often; we could have been a normal couple, 
meeting for coffee or dinner, going to 
museums and the opera, spending the nights 
in each other's arms. 

If only he hadn't disappeared on a regular 
basis.

He called, even wrote short, cryptic e-mails 
and he never once stood me up again, but a 
lot of times he was miles away.

One evening he called me, for some reason 
furious about his two agents, muttering 
something about how stupid they could get, 
getting involved with each other, on top of 
everything else. While he was rambling on 
about procedure and the "office of 
professional conduct" I wondered why the hell 
he bothered. 

So what, Mulder and Scully had an affair. 
From what I had heard so far, it certainly 
didn't surprise me.


****************


We had planned a weekend by the shore for a 
while, when he called me unexpectedly and 
cancelled.

"What's happened?" I asked, more concerned 
than angry.

"I've got to go to Oregon."

"OK, don't worry, we'll postpone it."

"I'll see you soon, meet me at my place on 
Sunday night."


****************


I never knew what exactly happened in 
Oregon but it changed him.

When he came back it was early Monday 
morning. I was asleep on his couch in front of 
a dying fire when I heard him unlock the 
door.

He didn't turn the lights on in the living room 
and I could hear him in the kitchen, pouring 
himself a drink.

I got up and went to him, only to find him 
standing at the counter, clutching a glass of 
what looked like whiskey, crying and shaking.

I wrapped my arms around him, stroking his 
back gently, muttering words that made no 
sense, and trying to understand what he was 
saying. 

"I've lost him, I couldn't do anything… she 
put her faith in me and I disappointed her…" 
he kept muttering over and over and over.

I led him to his bedroom and made him 
change out of his jeans and into a pair of 
sweatpants.

I could only guess he was talking about Fox 
Mulder and Dana Scully.

After a while he fell into a fitful sleep and 
when I woke at 7 to get ready for work, he 
was already gone.

"Meet me at "Da Franco's" at 8 p.m. 
tomorrow" said the note on the fridge.


****************


"Da Franco's" was packed when I got there 
and was seated in a booth.

Walter wasn't there yet.

When he came in, he looked even worse than 
two nights ago.

"She is pregnant." He said when he said 
down, taking a sip from my red wine.

"What?"

"Scully.. she is pregnant."

I looked at him questioningly almost 
expecting him to confess that he was the 
father of the baby. A cold feeling gripped me.

"She is pregnant and I have lost him… I have 
lost Mulder and now…"

Mulder had been kidnapped or "abducted" in 
Oregon while on another assignment with 
Walter. Scully, who'd had to resign from 
exactly this assignment, was pregnant, 
obviously by her partner and somehow 
Skinner felt responsible.

"You are not responsible, don't blame 
yourself – they are adults…" I tried to 
reassure him but he wouldn't hear any of it.

After all, what did I know?

Suddenly, I felt lonely in a room full of 
people.


****************


The worry about Fox Mulder and Dana Scully 
soon consumed him.

Whenever I saw him, he would talk about 
nothing else. 

He spoke to Scully almost every night, 
reassuring her that he would find the missing 
Mulder.

His voice would be so gentle and soothing, 
that my heart ached and I wanted to scream.

Although he was spending time with me, 
talked to me, go to the movies or to dinner, 
but he mind was miles away.

And then, he went to Arizona with Scully. To 
track down Mulder. To help her. To reduce his 
guilt or whatever.

I didn't hear from him for almost 3 weeks, his 
phone was switched off and his office 
wouldn't tell me anything and I was sick with 
worry. I was lonely and aching for him. 

I get like that, I can loose myself in the man 
I love completely until all that matters is he 
alone.


****************


Then on a Saturday, our day, he came into 
our Starbucks with her. I had never met Dana 
Scully but I knew it had to be her.

He didn't even notice me, sitting in my usual 
spot on the overstuffed couch.

I noticed him immediately and it took only 
one look at him and the pretty, pale redhead 
and I knew.

The way he looked at her, gently placing his 
hand on the small of her back, his whole 
demeanor…

He was in love with her. 

Not only in love. He adored her. She was the 
love of his life.

Just like he was mine.

I knew he would never look at me this way, 
nor would he be so gentle. As if she were 
made out of glass.

He had never ever looked at me or treated 
me that way.

I could see the similarities between her and 
me. 

Was that what had attracted him to me in 
the first place?

Hastily I picked up my bag and book and tried 
to sneak out of the shop when he turned and 
saw me.

His eyes were bruised and red. He'd been 
injured and I hadn't even known. 

Surprise and guilt mirrored on his face.

"Kate, I… wait." He reached out for me and 
Scully turned. Her pale face and blue eyes 
registered astonishment, but before either of 
them could say anything I left. I had seen 
the black marks on her face as well. 

I didn't turn back as I ran to the subway 
station, tears blinding me and stinging my 
eyes.


****************


Nothing helped. My rational side told me, 
that they were colleagues, that she was most 
certainly in love with her partner and 
expecting his baby, that they had only been 
at a coffee shop together for heaven's sake.

I knew all that, but I couldn't get the image 
of him looking at her out of my mind.

I would dream of his dark eyes looking at me 
with the same adoration and love, of his 
hand gently guiding me, his whole being 
focusing only on me.

He had been injured, hurt, probably even in a 
hospital and I hadn't even known. 

Dana Scully had, by the look of her, she had 
almost certainly been there with him.

He'd come back to Washington and I hadn't 
even known.

I cried myself to sleep every night, missing 
his arms around me and hating him at the 
same time.


****************


For weeks he called me at work and left 
messages on my answering machine.

I didn't return his calls, or his e-mails.


I did not want to face him, I couldn't.

Then one evening I was leaving the store and 
there he was, dressed in jeans, his hands 
buried in the pockets of a long leather jacket.

I swallowed and took my time to lock the 
doors.

"Hey." He said, tentatively reaching out to 
me.

I stopped in my tracks. "What?" My voice was 
hoarse.

"Nothing. I wanted to see you."

"Now you have seen me, and?" I knew I 
sounded like a spoilt child, but I couldn't help 
it.

It was either that or breaking down in his 
arms, sobbing. I missed him so much and 
seeing him there, tall and solemn in the 
twilight was like a shot through my heart.

He put his hand back in his pocket and 
nodded. "Can I at least take you home?"

I considered. Looked up into those dark, dark 
eyes and felt my resolve melting. "OK, why 
not."

He took my laptop bag off my shoulder and 
we walked silently to his car. He glanced at 
me and started to say something, when his 
phone rang.

"Skinner! What! Yeah, I'll be there… no John; 
I'll call her, yes I am sure…" Switching the 
phone off he turned to me. "I am sorry, I 
have to go its Mulder, they found him, dead. 
I need to be there for Da.. Scully."

"Stay."

"I can't… she needs me." With that he 
handed me my notebook and left, never 
turning back.

I stood there, in the deserted street, the cold 
wind whipping my coat around my ankles, 
drying the tears that ran down my cheeks.


****************


I called in my friend Lea the next day, telling 
her I was sick and stayed in bed, alternately 
crying and cursing Walter Skinner and myself.

How could I fall for him like that? How could I 
make him my universe?

When I was barely 22 I had fallen for my 
English professor and had carried on an affair 
with him for one and a half years before 
realizing he would never love me like I loved 
him. 

It took me 4 years to get over him, and I had 
sworn myself I would never lose myself so 
completely in the love for one man again.

Until Walter Skinner. He was everything I 
wanted from a man. All the others had just 
been boys.

But his love didn't belong to me, at least not 
the way I wanted it to. 

His love, the one that comes from deep 
within, that makes you ache for the other, 
live and die for the other belonged to Dana 
Scully. 

How tragic that she in turn seemed loved her 
partner.

When he called me a few days later he said. 
"Mulder is dead. We've just buried him."

I was lost for words. The other man was 
dead. Maybe Scully would be his now. 
Irrational, I know. I should not be thinking 
only of myself.

"Can I see you?"

"No, I don't want to see you again, Walter. I 
can't." I choked back tears.

"Why not?

"Because you don't love me like I deserve to 
be loved. I don't want to be someone you 
just content with. You will never look at me 
like you look at Dana Scully. I want more 
than that."

"Kate, I…"

"No, please don't, please don't excuse 
yourself." I didn't even let him finish. 

Sobbing uncontrolled now, I hung up.


****************


The coming weeks and months were awful. I 
worked until I was completely exhausted, 
took over shifts at the store from Lea, only to 
come home to my empty apartment. 

I drank too much and started smoking again. 
I had quit when I met Skinner.

I stayed in bed all weekend and didn't take 
any calls from friends.

Lea agreed when I asked her if I could go 
away for a while, not long, just until the pain 
got better. 

I went to see my aunt on the coast of Maine.

The quiet beauty of the forests and the sea 
up there calmed me immensely.

I took long walks, listening to the waves and 
he whispering of the trees.

Walter Skinner was in my thoughts 
constantly, when I walked on the beach or 
sat in the local coffee shop with my book.

I dreamt of him and the dreams were so real 
that in the mornings I didn't know where I 
was or if it had been real. I couldn't 
comprehend that I wasn't in his arms any 
more.


****************


It took 3 months. Then I felt ready to go 
home again. My apartment seemed stuffy but 
Lea had put some fresh flowers on the coffee 
table.

I went back to work. Lea was glad to be 
relieved of the burden and my savings were 
getting low.

In November I started an affair with a guy 
from college, but he was just a boy. I didn't 
last.

I spent Christmas alone with Sam, my new 
golden retriever puppy.

I still dreamt of Walter every night, but the 
dreams didn't hurt me anymore. 

I had made it go away.


****************


I haven't been back to "our" Starbucks in all 
those months. I haven't been able to bear it.

But today I just did it. I picked up a full-fat 
latte and sat down on the couch, digging my 
book from my bag.

Today is a Saturday.

I can't concentrate on my book because I am 
staring at the door to hard, willing him to 
come. 

He doesn't.

I still go back every Saturday. I don't watch 
the door anymore…

End



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