First thing, this story picks up toward the end of Sein Und Zeit, when Skinner shows up at Mulder's door, and it continues on through the flight to CA.

Second thing, I grew up in black bear country, where you see bears walking along the roads and around your house. I find them pretty harmless when not provoked. I've been less than five feet from a full grown bear, and I can tell you, it ran before I did. They ignored my 16 year-old screaming pissed-off cat, but killed my friend's angry, barking dog. If you don't pose a threat and don't have food, they don't care about you. As someone who's been camping often, I had to learn bear safety at an earlier age. This story is inspired by those lessons.

And, that look on Scully's face. Ouch.

Skinner walked up to apartment number 42, and knocked firmly on the door. This wasn't fair, and he knew it. The poor bastard had just lost his mother in the most painful way possible. He should be encouraging Mulder to take bereavement time, not dragging him across the country to meet with some woman who might very well be a child-killer.

He shifted, uncomfortable and guilty, as the door opened to reveal, not Mulder, but Scully. She was wearing yesterday's clothes, and her normally bright blue eyes were weighted down from lack of sleep. He wasn't surprised to see her there, or that she'd obviously spent the night with Mulder. He doubted it was the first time.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi."

She didn't move aside to let him in, or offer any indication of friendliness. In fact, she looked almost angry. No, not almost. Scully looked pissed, and at that moment, it was all directed towards him.

He swallowed painfully, and realized with almost amusement that he was actually intimidated by the petite redhead. She was a good foot shorter than him, and probably weighed less than half what he did, but Mulder would find no better bodyguard. Just that look made grown men squirm.

"How's he doing?" He peered into the apartment, hoping Mulder might appear and save him.

"It's been a hard night for him." She still didn't move, but remained rooted at the same spot, hostility radiating off her.

Her tone had a definite meaning to it, one that clearly said, 'Don't fuck with me'. Yes, she'd spent the night, and no, she wasn't offering an excuses or apologies. He could try to make it into something it wasn't, but she was ready to fight him on it.

It wasn't a fight he wanted to wage.

They stared at each other, neither backing down, and Skinner briefly wondered how Mulder ever had the balls to run off without her--and come home again. She been pissed at him before, and it was an unpleasant experience. But, now she wasn't feeling betrayed or desperate, she was feeling protective, and that was much worse. And, much, much more dangerous for him.

Staring him down, challenging him to say what him came for, she reminded him of a mother bear. If he walked away now, he would go unscathed. But, if he made any attempt toward her cub, she'd morph from cuddly creature to vicious beast in seconds. Then he'd walk away without a face, and one arm hanging off. He'd bare the scars of her fury the rest of his life.

Like a novice camper, he was going to risk it. He was going after her precious cub.

"Billie LaPierre is asking for him. She's got something to say, and she'll only talk to Mulder." He shot a look at her, trying to express without words how much he didn't want to do this right now, but that he really didn't have a choice.

She sighed. "It's not a good time..."

Mulder came up behind her then. He didn't look as bad as expected, but tired, even drained. "What is it?"

"The case has heated up. I've booked two flights for us."

Scully looked up at her partner, clearly hoping he'd say he wasn't going. Mulder only nodded and walked away. She turned her attention back to him, and Skinner had to meet her eyes again. Coward he was, he'd avoided her eyes with his last statement, but no more.

"Well," she said, "then you better book three." Her voice was level, but with an acidic edge to it.

Skinner was already pulling his phone out of his coat when she finally moved aside to let him in, still looking rather pissed.

Did Mulder have any idea how protective she was of him?

As luck would have it, he ended up sitting next to that angry mama bear on the plane. He sat in the aisle seat, Scully took the middle, and Mulder was slouched and had fallen asleep staring out the window. He hadn't said much since they'd walked out of his apartment, and neither had Scully. Skinner was reminded that his agents were special in several ways, including their style of communication.

He was one of the few people they'd actually have a conversation in front of, and even then it was guarded. Unless one of them was stating an opinion on a case, they rarely said much in front of their colleagues, choosing to keep to their own private world. So the silence wasn't a total shock to him, but he'd forgotten they were experts at nonverbal communication. It was completely unnerving to know they were having a silent conversation in a language he couldn't ever hope to understand.

Skinner wondered if they were married, would they use the same style of nonverbal communication for day to day things? Would she kiss his cheek and squeeze his hand to remind him that they needed to stop at the store after work for eggs and bread? Would the gentle caress of his hand on her back be all he needed to tell her that he'd take care of the dinner dishes? He wondered if this tendency of theirs away from speech was a reversion to basic instincts brought on in the all too frequent crisies they endured, or if it was the opposite. Not a reversion to their neanderthal ancestors, but a higher, much more pure kind of communication?

"We need to get something to eat before we do anything," Scully said. He turned to see her attention was on him now, rather than the flight magazine in her hands. Her face set determinedly, and she almost bristling again with hostility.

She wasn't about to let Mulder work himself into a hospital bed, if he didn't like that...well, he probably didn't want to try and argue with her. He was pretty fond of his face and all his limbs.

"We'll stop some place after we get a car," he assured her. Scully nodded and turned back to her magazine.

She'd barely glanced at it when Mulder suddenly started out of his nap with a sleepy gasp. Her attention was on him instantly, and Skinner watched her pick up his hand and squeeze it. He looked at her, his face pale and drawn with his emotional anguish. Every time he woke up, he had that tiny bit of sleep amnesia before his brain was conscious enough to remind him that his mother had killed herself. He let his head fall back with an exhausted sigh, and brought their hands--fingers now entwined--to his chest.

Mulder held her hand against his cheek, head hanging toward his chest. Scully just continued to watch him, and with her head turned away, Skinner couldn't see her expression. Though if he were a betting man, he'd say it was one of compassion. Mulder released a weary sigh, and Scully pulled his head back up with her other hand. As if he didn't care Skinner was there, Mulder let his head fall onto her shoulder. She didn't move him, but allowed him to rest his head there, moving one hand up, gently stroking his head.

Skinner had never felt so uncomfortable in the presence of any of his agents. This was private, hell, this was intimate. Something he shouldn't be watching, but he was, and completely captivated by it. Their closeness still surprised him. He knew it shouldn't, he'd known they both for years, but this wasn't something he could pick up from case reports. And, every time he saw their devotion to each other in person, it had been one's desperate attempt to save the other's life. This was different; it was a quiet, tender moment between them. He'd never really been privy to this before.

He watched for a long time. Mulder's grip on Scully's smaller hand loosed and tightened sporadically with whatever miserable thoughts he was struggling through. Scully's hand eventually stilled atop his head, and she seemed instead to hold him to her chest as she would a child. Her gaze drifted from her tortured partner, to the blue sky outside the window, seemingly lost in her own thoughts. Mulder's breathing evening out finally startled Skinner out of his voyeurism.

This proved to better very lucky, as Scully suddenly turned her attention to him. "Sir, I understand that this looks less than professional, but--"

He interrupted her, "It's not my business, Scully. Whatever gets him through this."

Scully's eyes went wide and her mouth opened in a wordless objection. Skinner realized his poor choice of wording too late; had he really just accidentally implied Scully was screwing her partner to make him feel better?

He held up a hand quickly. "I'm sorry, that wasn't what I meant to say. I didn't mean to imply anything about your relationship with Mulder, except that it isn't my business, and I'm glad he has you."

Scully nodded awkwardly, and turned back toward the window. Skinner pinched the bridge of his nose, that was terribly smooth. At least she didn't seem hostile anymore, apparently soothing Mulder had soothed her as well.

The honest truth was, he didn't know if they were involved like that, and unlike everyone else at the Bureau, he couldn't quite make himself jump to that deceptively easy conclusion. Kim insisted that they weren't sleeping together; said she could just tell.

He couldn't quite remember how they'd gotten on the topic--not one he willing went to--but, Kim had been adamant. She'd been his secretary as long as they'd worked under him, and she certainly had opportunity enough to watch them. Her reason for believing as she did was that they were terrified of each other and the possibility. He didn't get it then, but now, he wondered if his secretary was more perceptive than he gave her credit for.

Movement drew his attention back to the pair; Mulder was twitching in his sleep. Even resting against Scully, his face looked tense, his whole body looked tense. Scully's fingers began moving slowly over his scalp again, in a way that seemed totally unconscious on her part. After a few minutes, Mulder was back to a more pleasant kind of sleep.

Looking at them as an unknowing third party, Skinner would certainly have assumed they were lovers, married even. But, he found himself actually believing the opposite to be true; Mulder and Scully were not lovers, nor had they ever been. They were too scared to go there. As their boss, that was a decided relief. As their friend--and he did consider himself a friend--that made him a little sad.

He had no opportunity to consider it further, as the head stewardess interrupted his thoughts to inform them all that the landing cycle was about to begin. Put your trays upright, buckle your seatbelts, yadda yadda yadda.

He heard Scully whispering, and turned to see her nudging Mulder. She was speaking so softly, her lips less than inches from his ear, Skinner couldn't hear what she said. But Mulder came awake, looking a little confused at his chosen pillow, before consciousness completely swept over him. Then his face became such a vivid combination of pain and gratitude that Skinner had to look away.

He didn't need to actually look, because he could feel Scully's demeanor change again beside him. She was tense, almost hostile again, back to being protective of her partner. Skinner realized with something approaching amusement, that he'd forgotten the other trademark of mother bears.

With their beloved cubs, they are very affectionate, nuzzling and cuddling their babies, and often snuggling up with them to keep them warm and safe. It's enough to give anyone watching a false sense of security. Including him.

But, anyone else, she might just eat.

Or shoot.