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Her mom has been gone for less than a minute before he appears at her door. The timing is so perfect that Dana knows he must have been waiting nearby, unwilling to disturb them, unsure of his welcome.
Her mom has only gone for some fresh air and some coffee – she won’t be long. Hopefully her return won’t scare Skinner away.
“Hi sir,” Dana says. “Come in, please.”
He enters slowly. Surely he’s thinking, like her, of the other times he’s visited her in a hospital bed. How one time she was dying. How the last time he thought he’d lost Mulder for good. Neither of them are good memories.
Not like this one will be.
“How are you feeling?” Skinner asks, hovering halfway between the door and the bed. He looks exhausted; his glasses are folded in his shirt pocket, his tie long discarded. He looks like a man carrying the world on his shoulders.
“Tired,” she answers honestly. “But not too tired for you.”
The flush spreads up his neck, from beneath the open collar of his shirt, up his face to the very top of his head. He’s not a man much used to any outward expression of emotion; from himself, yes, but also directed at him.
“Okay,” he says eventually and makes a sudden move, taking off his coat with a jerky movement which suggests he’s moving fast before he chickens out. Scully smiles as he puts the coat on the chair, then picks it up again when he realises it’s the only place to sit.
“Leave the coat there and come say hello,” she says, an unbridled wave of affection coming over her.
Skinner eyes the side of the bed and her hand patting it invitingly, then comes slowly, like a skittish horse. Dana Scully knows horses well. She waits quietly until he overpowers whatever voice in his head is talking to him and sits gingerly on the bed.
“This is William,” she says, without delay. She turns the baby so that Skinner can see the tiny wrinkled face.
He swallows hard as he takes in the baby, the real human who has finally made his presence known after what has been the longest nine months of Dana’s life.
“He’s beautiful,” Skinner mumbles, words Dana are sure haven’t come to him naturally. She wonders if he’s been practicing.
“Do you think so? I think newborns look like overcooked shellfish.”
His head jerks up; there’s a slight twitch to his lips, and then it becomes a smile when he sees the grin on her face.
“Maybe you’re right. But this one is your shrimp.”
“That he is,” she smiles, helpless.
Time has stopped. Nothing is real except this room, this bed, this baby. Right now, nothing matters.
Skinner’s hands flex on his knees.
“Do you want to hold him?” she asks, before she really knows what she is saying. Even her mom hasn’t held William yet, respecting Dana’s need to keep her miracle close.
“I don’t know,” Skinner says. “I’m not – ”
“No pressure. But if you want to – well, you kept us safe. It seems right.”
She’s surprised to find that she means the words, sentimental nature and all. Somehow in the last nine months, she has rarely felt safer or more secure than when Skinner was at her side. It was the familiar, something to cling onto – and she literally had done that, more than once. He’d shored her up, lent her his strength unselfishly and unerringly.
“I don’t know if I’d have survived this with any of my sanity intact if you hadn’t been there.”
That’s true too. Doggett has been a nice surprise, a friend she never expected to have, a guard dog who has jealously marked her every step. But he doesn’t believe like Skinner does, didn’t understand her fear, didn’t understand the nature of the threat, the nature of Mulder’s disappearance. Skinner is the one who has been a touchstone, who reminded her that she wasn’t crazy, that she was right, that the danger was real and that her fear was founded.
“Alright,” Skinner says eventually. “But you’ll have to show me how.”
William sleeps through the slightly awkward transfer, thank goodness. If he’d started fussing there was no doubt Skinner would have run a mile.
Her son looks even tinier in Skinner’s arms, cradled against his chest in a grip she can only describe as slightly panicked.
“Relax, sir,” she chuckles. “You’ll pull a muscle like that.”
He does, minutely, his shoulders dropping enough that she lets it go for now.
“Dark hair. He didn’t get the Scully gene,” Skinner murmurs.
“Not necessarily. Red hair can come later,” she replies, touching a fingertip to William’s full mouth. “But these are Mulder’s lips. No sign of me yet.”
Skinner only nods slightly, his eyes on the baby’s face. He’s never been comfortable with the idea of her and Mulder, both as their boss and just – well, she’d never say anything to him, but she’s not stupid. She’s seen flashes, brief glimpses of the man Skinner is beneath the mask. He’s a complicated soul. She knows the depths of the devotion that he’s capable of.
“I’ve never held a baby before. Can you believe that?”
He glances up at her. Without his glasses he always looks older, more careworn. She wishes she could touch him without it torturing him. Instead, she strokes William’s soft head.
“William is honoured to be your first.”
There’s a polite cough at the door and Skinner looks up sharply. It’s only her mom, three coffees in hand, a bag of chips under her arm.
“Hello, Mr Skinner. I saw you waiting outside when I left. I guessed your coffee order.”
“Mrs Scully,” he says. “It’s good to see you again.”
His voice is a little clipped, formal, but he’s still holding the baby. Dana doesn’t move to take him, either. This Skinner, the real man, the one who lives behind the mask, deserves to be known too, and not just by her. Her mom is a safe bet.
He glances at her, almost pleading, but Dana ignores him for the moment and reaches for the coffee cups her mom offers to her.
“Decaf for you, sweetheart.”
“Oh, Mom –”
“Don’t ‘mom’ me.”
Dana mutters under her breath, letting Skinner see the grin she is hiding behind her coffee cup. Inviting him into the intimacy of the moment. Showing him he is welcome here.
“Do I get to hold him now?” Mom asks. “Let Mr Skinner drink his coffee.”
“Alright. But come sit next to me.”
Her mother takes the baby with no qualms at all and Skinner is happy to give him up to the more experienced arms. She settles in next to Dana, sharing her pillow, pressing a kiss to the top of William’s head. Tears spring into Dana’s eyes and she closes them tightly, wishing Mulder was here right now instead of off in a debrief to end all debriefs. A hand cups her shoulder and she opens her eyes to find Skinner’s hand there, heavy and warm and comforting, the same comfort he’ s been giving her for months.
“I’m going to go now and spring Mulder for you,” he says.
“Thank you, sir. It was nice to see you.”
“Thank you, Dana.”
He scooped up his coat and his coffee cup.
“Goodbye, Mrs Scully. Thank you for the coffee.”
“Goodbye, dear.”
As he left the room, her mom turned to her.
“I didn’t know that man had a sentimental bone in his body.”
Dana smiled into her coffee.
“There’s a lot we don’t know about him.”