Title: Blind Trust
Author: mlb
e-mail: mlb@ipass.net
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: All characters in this story are the property of CC and 1013. 
No personal gain is intended. 


"What do you mean 'he isn't here'?"

Despite Scully's efforts to speak quietly, her fury came through, and
the admissions clerk flinched. "Mr. Skinner checked himself out of the
rehabilitation center a week ago, Agent Scully. We had no authority to
keep him against his will."

"Where did he go?" she said between her teeth.

"Home, I guess."

"You guess? A man was blinded by a substance we *still* can't identify;
was one month into his rehab; is a high-ranking official of the Federal
Bureau of Investigation; and you *guess* he went home? Don't you follow
up on your patients?"

"Agent Scully."

She turned away from the clerk, who was now almost in tears, and faced
Skinner's doctor. She was familiar with him; he was the man who had told
her for the last month that Skinner was refusing all visitors.

He beckoned to her coldly, and Scully stalked after him.

"There's no need to bully Pauline. She's 25 years old and good at her
job, but no match for a Federal Agent." Scully flushed and looked away.

"Mr. Skinner checked himself out of our facility a week ago. I strongly
advised against it: we need to monitor the slightest change in his
condition, not to mention his need to become accustomed to living blind
in a seeing world. Alternately, I suggested that he set-up for in-home
care and therapy. He refused all of my recommendations and forbade me to
contact anyone. As he is mentally capable of making decisions for
himself, I had no choice but to agree. Neither myself nor my staff are
at fault. Are we clear?"

"Crystal," Scully bit off. She swung on her heel and stalked toward the
door. However, at the counter, she stopped at the counter and made
herself face the clerk. "I'm sorry." She said awkwardly, feeling her
face grow hot. "I was out of line. I know it's not your fault. I'm just
very worried."

Pauline smiled at her, which just made Scully feel worse, and said,
"We're all worried about Mr. Skinner. I hope he's all right."

"So do I," Scully muttered, as she headed for her car.

As she drove, Scully dialed Skinner's apartment. When she heard the
answering machine, she said, "Sir, it's Scully. Please pick up," but
wasn't surprised when she received no answer. Skinner had made it clear
that he didn't want to talk to her. His cel-phone was also turned off.

Next, she tried Mulder, and again wasn't surprised to receive no answer
at home, work, or cel. He was searching frantically - and globally - for
a cure for Skinner's vision.

Despite receiving no answer over the telephone, Scully couldn't think of
anywhere to begin to look for Skinner other than his condo. Between his
blindness and his repulsion about accepting help, his options were
limited. He needed familiar surroundings and the facilities to obtain
food and drink since he couldn't go out for himself.

She rode up the elevator, muttering "C'mon, c'mon," urging the numbers
to go faster. Her worry was reaching a fever-pitch, and she knew that it
was at least partially due to guilt.

An old Vietnam buddy of Skinner's had developed a lucrative business
selling arms to right-wing militia groups, and in the course of the
investigation, evidence had appeared that indicated, quite damningly,
that Skinner was working with him. Despite Mulder's desire to wait,
Scully had confronted Skinner, and Skinner had gone ballistic. She knew
that his anger with her had been a factor when he volunteered to meet
with his old friend alone and wired.

Somehow, (CSM came to mind), Skinner's friend had been tipped off. In
the middle of their conversation he had suddenly shrieked "You're
blind!" and had sprayed Skinner in the face with an unknown chemical
before shooting himself in the temple. Skinner had ducked but had caught
enough to be blinded. The chemical had vaporized immediately upon
contact with air. There simply wasn't anything left in the canister to
analyze.

Skinner had checked into the DC Eye Center and undergone a battery of
tests to no avail. There was nothing physically or neurologically wrong
with Skinner, except he couldn't see. There was no logical reason for
him to be blind, he just was. After the tests, he had begun rehab and
had refused all visitors, especially Scully and Mulder.

Idiot, she thought fiercely. It was stupid not to meet with her and
Mulder, not to allow them to help, to continue to hold her disbelief
against her. The evidence had been strong. She had arrived at the
correct conclusion given the material at hand. Logic and sound reason
were on her side. And if a voice in her head commented that she was
protesting rather loudly and perhaps too much, she ignored it.

At long last, she reached Skinner's door and knocked. "Sir? It's Scully.
Please open the door." No answer. She leaned down, but couldn't see
light under the door. Of course, that didn't tell her much. Damn, where
was he? Actually, she wouldn't put it past him to be in there, angry and
not speaking.

Well, she knew what to do about that. Reaching into her bag, Scully
pulled out a set of master keys, a gift from Frohike. Normally, she
would never consider such an action as breaking into Skinner's
apartment, respecting him and his right to privacy. Now, however, guilt
and worry overcame her scruples.

Three tries, and the door swung open to reveal a pitch black interior.
No light, no sound, no movement. The hair rose on the back of her neck.
It shouldn't be so dark. There had to be a window in the living room.
Even if the blinds were drawn there should be light, no matter how faint.

She knew she was a target standing there, illuminated by the light from
the hall, and instinct told her to back out of the doorway and go for
help. Instead, she drew her pistol and stepped into the apartment and
sharply to the right, out of the spill of light and hopefully, towards a
light switch.

Scully fumbled along the wall until her fingers encountered a switch
which she flipped gratefully. Nothing happened. The darkness remained
unbroken except for the hall light. Then, that was gone too as the door
suddenly slammed shut, moving too swiftly to be an accident.

Engulfed in total blackness, her eyes strained to see something,
anything, as she changed position, slipping away from the wall by light
switch. She held the gun in front of her although there was no way she
could shoot blindly: she was afraid whoever was in here was holding
Skinner in front of him as a shield. Scully stood still, breathing as
noiselessly as she could, trying to hear, still trying desperately,
foolishly, to see.

The barest stir of air behind her was her only warning, before an arm
slammed around her waist, and yanked her back against a large body. The
other hand closed around her wrist and squeezed until she dropped the
gun. She heard the muffled thud and swish as the gun was kicked away.
She was spun around, shoved away, completely disoriented now by the
darkness.

However, Scully still knew who she'd been pulled against. Awareness of
that body had been a part of her sub-conscious for too long.

"Skinner," she said in a voice sharpened by fear and anger. "What the
hell are you doing?"

A low laugh sent a shiver down her spine.

"What am I doing?" said a voice both silken and razor-sharp. "I'm
practicing some skills I learned a long time ago. Light could get you
killed in 'Nam, so we learned to fight without it."

Scully hadn't heard him move, but Skinner's voice came from her right.
She turned to face him, and stepped back, trying to move quietly.

"Is that why you left the center? You decided to do your own version of
rehab?" she asked, forcing her voice to stay level, not betray her fear.
She'd heard Skinner speak angrily before, but not like this. Scully
thought that what she heard now was barely controlled rage that was
directed, at least partially, at her.

"You could say that." Skinner's breath puffed across her cheek as he
spoke into her ear. He lightly tugged a strand of her hair, and she
spun, striking out instinctively, but her hand met only air. "I find
this sort of exercise suits me better than learning to use a white cane
or read Braille."

"How did you get it so dark?" It was an inane question but the only
thing she could think of to say. It seemed important to keep talking, to
infuse some kind of normalcy in this situation.

"Black out curtains. I've also had the power disconnected. I knew
someone would come, to gloat if nothing else. I decided to even the odds
a little. Welcome to my world, Agent Scully. I didn't know it would be
you."

Skinner was still circling her as he spoke, his voice seeming to come
from everywhere at once. Scully held still, refusing to join his game.
Even through her anger and fear, she felt a stab of sorrow. Despite the
fact that the blackness was absolute, and she knew she couldn't see, she
couldn't stop trying to catch the faintest glimmer of light. To have
this be a permanent condition would be almost unbearable. Then Skinner's
words penetrated her consciousness and she gasped.

"You think I came to gloat? You think I'm your enemy?"

The laugh again, directly in front of her. "Don't so surprised, Agent
Scully. You're certainly willing to think I'm the enemy when it suits
you. Not pleasant to have the shoe on the other foot, is it?"

"It didn't *suit* me!" Scully said furiously. "The evidence indicated...."

"Fuck the evidence!" The cool control shattered, and only anger
remained. Hands grabbed her arms and shook her. "It's been six Goddamned
years, Scully! Don't you know me by now?! Don't you know I wouldn't be
part of selling weapons?"

"It doesn't matter what I think or believe is true!" She wrenched away
from him, in a rage of her own, sick of having to defend her thoughts
and her actions, first to Mulder, now to Skinner. "I have to go with
what I can see! I don't follow anyone..." she stuttered over the word,
hating the slip, but it was too late, "blindly."

"Except Mulder."

"Not even him. He may know more about some things than I do, but I make
him prove his theories. I make him show me, every step of the way! You
know that. You read my reports!"

She stepped back, thinking he was still in front of her, and came up
against him. Scully's nerves were on edge, and the unexpected contact
made her cry out and spring away. She crashed into something at knee
level, and fell across a piece of furniture. A coffee table, she
realized, as she lay wedged between it and the couch.

There was a moment of silence as she caught her breath. Then, the table
was pulled away from her, and Skinner said with a catch in his voice,
"Scully? Are you hurt?"

"Wasn't that the point?" she spat, sitting up. "To scare me? To hurt
me?" At his guilty silence, she added more quietly, "The way I hurt you?"

Scully started to get to her feet, and Skinner took her arm. She let
him, despite the instinct to pull away, sensing that it was important to
him. As soon as she stood, he released her. She could hear his breathing
and knew that he was standing still, not trying to frighten her anymore.

"Something like that," he said finally. "I was angrier with you than I
realized. I wouldn't have hurt you though, Scully. You know that, don't
you?"

"Yes, I know." She realized it was the truth. She had been afraid
earlier but on some level, had known that Skinner wouldn't deliberatly
hurt her. She had been more afraid for him than of him, afraid that his
anger and grief had sent him into madness.

"I'm behind you," he warned. He placed his hands on her shoulders and
turned her to the left. "The door's seven steps that way, probably ten
for you. Push the latch to the right."

Scully didn't move. After a moment, Skinner gave her a little push.
"It's all right. I'm not trying to trick you."

She still didn't move, except to raise her hands, and place them
deliberately over his. Scully felt him tense.

"I'm sorry I hurt you," she said carefully. "But, Skinner, I came to you
with the evidence. Not Kersh, or Cassidy, or the Director, although that
was what I should have done. I came to you, to give you the chance to
explain. Exactly as I would have done for Mulder."

He drew a deep, sighing breath and for a moment, she felt his forehead
rest against the top of her head. "I know. Scully, I can't...begin to
tell you how sorry I am."

Tears stung her eyes, and she tightened her grip on his hands. "Come
back to the rehab center. Let us help you. This is no way to live."

Skinner gave a little snort, far different from the earlier mocking
laugh. "You're going to be a pain in the ass about this, aren't you?"

She smiled through her tears. "If *you* think I'm a pain in the ass,
wait until you hear what the staff at the Eye Center thinks about me.
Besides, Mulder's tearing apart the entire country for a cure and
planning to start on Europe. I have to do my part."

"Well if you two are going to so much trouble, I don't suppose I have a
choice." He squeezed her shoulders lightly and started to let go, but
Scully, on impulse, turned and put her arms around him, holding him
tightly. After a startled moment, Skinner tentatively returned the embrace.

The hug was meant as a gesture of friendship, but as she rested against
him, it began to change. Awareness of the strong arms around her, the
muscled chest beneath her cheek, slid into her. Almost without meaning
to, she tightened her grip on him, and heard his breath quicken, and
felt him draw her more closely to him. Scully's vision was gone, but the
rest of her senses were on overdrive, making her almost painfully aware
of his body against hers. Pressing even closer, she felt the hardness of
his erection. She hesitated a moment, as her normal personality tried to
reassert control, but when Skinner began to draw back, Scully knew she
couldn't let him go and slid her hand up his arm to his shoulder, then
to his cheek.

"Scully...."

It was a thread of sound, a warning that she ignored. The darkness gave
the situation an unreal, dreamlike quality, shrouding her reason. There
was only the feel and sound and smell of him before her, like one of the
fantasies she entertained in her lonely bed.

Scully put her hand behind Skinner's neck and tugged, and his mouth came
down on hers unerringly. She made a sound in the back of her throat and
pressed up against him. Her fingers outlined the wedge of his back from
the wide shoulders down to the narrow hips.

Skinner touched her as well, as his mouth plundered hers, big hands
stroking down her spine with a feather-light touch, then back up, under
her shirt. She shivered at the feel of his hands on her bare flesh and
hastened to return the favor, tracing the ribs under his taut skin. He
shuddered and released her long enough to pull his shirt off. Scully
shrugged out of her own top and bra and went back into his arms,
exploring his chest with her lips and wishing she could see the play of
skin over muscle.

He bore her gently to the floor and lay beside her, learning her body
from neck to waist with his fingertips, then following the path with his
mouth.

"So beautiful," he whispered.

He did fumble at the unfamiliar catch of her waistband, but managed to
get her slacks and panties removed without much difficulty. Scully heard
the rustle of fabric as Skinner shed his own pants and reached for him
cautiously, not wanting to damage anything. Her hand ended up on his
hip, and Skinner laughed softly and guided her hand to his cock. She
stroked it, relishing the heat and size, the moisture that slicked the
head, all for her. Scully leaned forward and licked at the tip, and
Skinner groaned and pushed her to her back.

His mouth slid down her body again, beyond her waist this time, flicking
at her navel before descending to tease at her mound. He ignored her
wriggling and inarticulate protests, and drew his tongue along her outer
lips before sliding it slowly inside her then up to nuzzle at her clit.

Her thrashing grew more frantic, but Skinner held her still until she
arched up with a cry of pleasure. Only then, did he lift up over her and
guide himself into her slowly. Scully wrapped her legs around his waist,
pulling him the rest of the way in, and they began to move.

"I wish I could see you," he said softly, as he stroked in and out.

"You will," Scully answered. She kissed him and felt him smile against
her lips.

"I already know what you look like. Your hair, your eyes, sea blue,
turquoise blue...."

The realization hit them at the same time, and they both froze in
position, Skinner's cock halfway inside her.

The silence lasted a long moment, as they struggled with the concept.
"Cerulean blue," Scully said finally.

"No. It can't be." he protested.

She sighed, wondering why no one had thought of it before and deciding
they had probably been too close to the situation. "What if we couldn't
find a chemical in the canister because there wasn't one? If Modell and
his sister had the power, somebody else might have it too. You were
already set to believe him because he was your friend in Vietnam. You
trusted him."

"Shit," Skinner breathed. "Scully, if that's true, I've been blind for
an entire month for no reason!"

She could feel the rage build in him, and gripped his shoulders. Part of
her thought how ridiculous they must look, holding an intense,
non-sexual conversation while Skinner was still inside her and her feet
were locked at the small of his back.

"Don't think of it that way." She framed his face in her hands.
"Skinner, it would mean that if you can break his hold, you'll be able
to see."

"It's too much of a coincidence."

He tried to turn his face away from her, but she held him and said with
all the conviction and strength of her voice, "Trust me. YOU CAN SEE."

Skinner was still a moment, then slowly pulled out of her and rose.
Scully scrambled to her feet and followed, holding his arm. He led her
across the living room, and when they stopped, she reached out and
touched the fabric of the blackout curtain. Skinner gripped the curtain,
his hand just above hers, and hesitated. She understood the mixture of
fear and hope that gripped him. Their lives would be changed forever in
the next moment. She wrapped her free arm around his waist.

"Trust me," she said softly.

She heard him swallow and felt his hand grip harder. Together, they
ripped the curtain open.

Light blazed into the room. Scully clapped her hands over her streaming
eyes, but she heard Skinner laugh, a joyous open sound.

When she dropped her hands, he was staring at her, grinning. His eyes
were bloodshot and tearing, but they saw her and that was what counted.

She was throwing herself into his arms, when her cell-phone rang. Scully
sighed, but answering the cell-phone had become wired into her on a
molecular level, so she padded over to her purse and picked it up.

"Scully."

"Scully, it's me!" Mulder's exuberant voice rang in her ear. "I finally
tracked the guy down and he had a tumor just like Modell! Skinner only
thinks he's blind!"

"We figured that out, Mulder," she said, laughing. "I was just about to
call you." Well, that was sort of true.

"Oh," he sounded deflated, but still happy. "So, he's ok then?"

"He's fine," she said truthfully, eying Skinner and his still erect, wet
cock. "I was just...writing up the report." Skinner raised an eyebrow,
and she grinned at him. "I'll see you back at the office."

She disconnected the phone.

"Writing a report?" he asked mildly, pulling her back into his arms.

"What did you *want* me to tell him?"

"We'll figure that out later. Why don't we finish this upstairs?"

Hand-in-hand, they walked to the stairs. "I trust you won't mind,"
Skinner said thoughtfully, "If we leave the lights on."

*The End*