Title: Walter and Mariel: 7. Ritornello
Author: Mary Mastrangelo
Series: Walter and Mariel
Rated: PG-13
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction based on characters created by Chris Carter and owned by Chris Carter, 1013 Productions and Fox Broadcasting. Used without permission and without intention to infringe copyright. No money is being made by the use of these characters. Dr. Mariel Fraser-Skinner, as well as any other characters and/or situations not already established on the television program "The X-Files," are my creation and may not be used without my written permission.

Summary: This story is told as a flashback set during the time of Walter and Mariel's engagement. In "real time," the Skinners are expecting their first child, who will arrive in the due course of events in another story

This is a Walter and Mariel story, and as such exists in an alternate universe in which these two people are happily married. Feedback is desired and greatly appreciated!

As was his custom, the cabbie waited by the curb while he pocketed his tip, watching to be sure his fare arrived safely at the door. He knew that the waiting would cut off a few seconds from his response time to the next call, but what the hell, he figured. This town was none too safe at any hour -- the knife scars on his upper arm attested to the daylight attempted robbery that he himself had survived -- and a lady like that, who absolutely breathed class... well, she deserved looking after.

Nice... real nice. He watched her approach the door, looking appreciatively at the way her hips moved as she walked. Not swaying, exactly, but moving with a slight, gentle shift of weight that seemed natural to her walk. Damn... if that was the kind of woman who worked with the feds, maybe he should tell his son to switch his major to law enforcement. But then, judging from the rock he'd seen on her finger when she'd given him the tip, this one was already spoken for. Well, where there was one, there might be others, he decided. There -- the cabbie saw that she was inside now, so he drove away from the curb to cruise for another fare.** Main Lobby, J. Edgar Hoover Building
Immediately Afterward

Mariel Fraser approached the duty desk, the low heels of her dress sandals making a hollow, echoing clack against the marbleized flooring. She smiled when she noticed that the young agent at the desk was studying her approach without seeming to. Well, he could see for himself that she wasn't hiding any weaponry under *this* dress, she decided, well aware that her evening attire looked startlingly out of place here. While she was still a few paces from the desk, the agent asked, "May I help you?"

"Dr. Fraser to see Assistant Director Skinner, please," Mariel replied with a smile.

The agent looked quickly at his computer screen and keyed in a command code. Then he nodded, looking up again. "Yes, the Assistant Director left word that you'd be arriving, Dr. Fraser." The young man reached for the telephone, punching in an extension number with his left hand. "I'll inform him that you're here."

"There's no need, Agent Sutton," a deep, even voice said from behind them. "I can see her for myself."

Mariel turned, breaking into a wide grin as she reached out both hands toward her fiance. --- Walt looks so handsome tonight --- she thought, her gaze resting caressingly upon him. There was no hint of evening shadow about his apparently freshly-shaven jaw, and his strong face looked relaxed. His dark grey suit coat was unbuttoned, and underneath it he wore a crisp pinstripe shirt that hugged his broad chest snugly. The shirt was tucked smoothly into his dark, sharply creased dress trousers that flowed down the long length of his muscular legs. Walter Skinner's answering smile was almost entirely in his eyes as he gazed tenderly at the woman who had pledged to become his wife. Mariel had pulled her shoulder-length mahogany hair back from her face, securing it into a high, loose knot, and shimmering tendrils escaped to fall across her brow and cheeks. As his eyes drank in her lovely, peaceful face, he realized that he had to physically restrain his hands from pressing through that elegant knot and working her curls free so he could stroke them and press his face into their glistening softness. --- God, she's so beautiful --- he thought as he gathered her hands in his. --- But I can't just stand here staring. --- But, as far as he was concerned, Mariel certainly deserved every appreciative glance. He noticed that her dinner dress was a blue paisley silk, lightly cinched at the waist, the hemline flirting delicately with her knees. Her long legs were sheathed in dark nylons, and low-heeled satin sandals accentuated her narrow feet. She had a chiffon evening scarf draped over her shoulders so that he couldn't tell what the bodice of her dress looked like, and he tried to swallow unobtrusively as he wondered if she would let him slide the wrap from her shoulders once they were in the car.

Automatically turning his back to the agent at the desk, Skinner murmured in a voice that only Mariel could hear, "I'll kiss you when we get to my car. Discipline, you know."

Mariel stifled a giggle. "O.K.," she murmured back. "I guess it'll feel better if I have to wait for it some more."

Skinner wondered if she realized that her words and the unspoken, perhaps unconscious, implication behind them sent a throb of sudden heat through his body. --- You are not a horny teenager --- he scolded himself impatiently. --- You're her chosen love and the day is less than three weeks away now.... --- He lowered his head a little, resting his lips against the bridge of her nose. "I guarantee that it'll feel very good," he breathed before straightening up again.

Mariel's eyes widened, and she covered her sudden quiver by patting her hair as if to straighten the curls. In an effort to keep up her end of the banter, she whispered, "I'm game, Assistant Director, sir." Then she saw the sudden flare of flame in his dark eyes, and she realized how that must have sounded to him. --- Oh, dear... I didn't mean it quite *that* way --- she thought, and took his offered arm. "Shall we go, Walt? Dinner awaits."

Although Mariel discovered that balancing one hip between the edges of two bucket seats was not particularly comfortable, she certainly enjoyed relaxing into the strength of her fiance's secure embrace. --- Mmmm... a lot of wonderful new things are happening for me now --- she thought. --- It's really fun to make out a little like this. --- Resting against Skinner's smoothly-muscled chest, she clutched the collar of his suit coat in her strong fingers, relishing the clean taste of his mouth and tongue as he gently explored her own warm mouth. Soon she shifted a little in his arms, breaking the kiss that seemed to have lasted for a couple of hours. "Sweetheart, you were right about it feeling good," she murmured, reaching up a fingertip to stroke his firm lips still wet from their kisses. "But we should go now."

Pressing his face into her hair, Skinner drew a deep breath, letting the hammer-strokes of his heartbeat ease. He knew that she was right, but he wanted to sit for a few more minutes holding her, enjoying her warmth and the scent of her perfume. If he had his way, he'd buy her gallons of that brand -- the scent blending with her pulsebeat and the warmth of her skin both excited and calmed him all at the same time. "Yeah," he said at last, letting her slip out of his embrace and back into her seat. "Yeah, we can't have your Mom and Dad coming after me for leading you into temptation."

--- Oh, Walt... If you knew that you tempt me simply by being alive... and by being you.... --- Mariel smoothed her loose tendrils back from her warm cheeks and fastened her seat harness. Remembering the gentle, yet insistent throb of her blood within her as she'd rested just now in his arms, Mariel knew that at such times she wasn't sure whether she could hold out for the next few weeks. But she'd promised.... "Nope," she said cheerfully after a couple of breaths, "can't have that. Besides, I want that steak tonight, and those baked potatoes and all those desserts."

Skinner laughed softly and started the car. "Spare me, Dr. F. I missed lunch today." Her answering laugh sounded warm in his ears as he guided the car out of the below-ground garage and onto the street.

Mariel remembered reading in a newspaper feature that The Inn had been refurbished from what was once the main house of a "gentleman's farm" dating from the late 1800s. From all appearances, Mariel decided as Walter guided her through the ornately-furnished entry salon toward the hostess's desk, the gentleman involved certainly had built on a grand scale. Set on a bluff overlooking the bay, its Grecian pillared portico sheltered by ancient oak trees, the building could have been the setting for an antebellum romance novel. At that thought, she made a mental note to mention the place to her novelist cousin. Maybe she could visit and do some research here.

An attractive, dark-haired hostess dressed in a hoop-skirt of raspberry crushed velvet beneath a tight-fitting bodice of white moire stepped from behind the desk as they approached. Walter gave the hostess their names, and she led the way into the high-ceilinged dining room. Mariel noticed that the waiters moving about the tables were attired like liveried servants. The atmosphere of damask-covered tables, cut-crystal stemwear, flowering centerpieces and gold-plated table service was breathtakingly elegant.

Glancing around the hostess's shoulder as they moved through the room, Mariel whispered, "There's Mom and Dad, over by the patio doors." Then she laughed softly, squeezing Skinner's arm. "Oh, look who else! Walt, I'm so glad they could make it -- my sister-in-law and the brother in the Marines, remember? "

Walter smiled down at the animated woman by his side. Yes, he remembered the brother who had taught her to shoot and wrestle -- or, at least, he remembered the man from the family pictures Mariel had shown him. Her mother and step-father, and a petite raven-haired woman who must be Mariel's sister-in-law made up the rest of the dinner party.

Standing up from her seat, Nora Fraser-McLaughlin enveloped her daughter in a tight, warm hug. "You are so gorgeous tonight," the older woman said brightly, pushing Mariel back to look her over. "And Walter," she continued, reaching out a free hand to draw the AD toward her for a hug that was no less warm, "you're no slouch yourself."

Skinner had met Mariel's mother the week before, and had discovered immediately that Mrs. McLaughlin was a hugger. When she'd put her arms around him for the first time, enfolding him close to her heart as her daughter's only love, he'd felt a moment of surprise that had melted into a sense of healing deep within him. His own mother had died untimely during his adolescence, and Skinner had done without maternal embraces through his rather stormy growing-up years. He'd missed his mother's sturdy, matter-of-fact hugs without being aware of that fact. ... And yet, at some level his heart had been very aware of his loss. How many times had he awakened in that Saigon hospital, screaming over the pounding of the monsoonal rains, his body drenched with the rank sweat of his nightmares.... Wrenching mindlessly at the arm and leg restraints that alone had kept him from tearing the intravenous needles and tubes from his body.... Sobbing with an anguish that could find no words and no release because he was dead and yet he was not dead.... Only later was he told that, at those times of distress, he had called his mother's name. Perhaps subconsciously, in his pain, he had been searching for the comfort of the sturdy maternal arms that would never again hold him....

Skinner realized that Nora was looking at him with concern, and he put away his memories. "I can't be a slouch, Nora," he replied, lips curving in the hint of a smile. "I have to keep your daughter interested, you know."

Nora laughed. "From what I hear, Walter, you're doing just fine." She turned to her husband, who was just reaching out to Skinner for a handshake. "Leo, why don't you get our drink orders and we can all sit down before the waiters start hovering."

Mariel smiled and tugged at Skinner's arm lightly. "Wait a sec on those drinks, Dad," she said, leading Walter toward the other end of the table. "I have some honors to do.... Walt, this is my brother and sister-in-law: Lt.Col. and Mrs. Fraser. Mike, Sophia, my fiance, Walter Skinner."

Brown-eyed Sophia Fraser was nearly a foot shorter than her husband, and her short, wavy hair was so deep a black that it shone with blue highlights. Mike Fraser was Skinner's own height, a leanly-built man with the whipcord muscles of a marathon runner. His reddish-brown hair was a shade lighter than Mariel's, and the almost translucent blue of his eyes was as intense as a cool-light laser. As the two men shook hands, Skinner recognized a strength in Mariel's brother that fitted well with his position as the commander of a tank battalion.

Soon the waitress arrived with before-dinner drinks, and the group began to discuss the varying merits of steamed lobster, corn-fed beef and chicken pasties. Mariel noticed that the menu even contained some offerings from the frontier larders of a century gone by. However, squirrel ragout and pigeon pie held no attractions for her appetite and she giggled, deciding on a nicely-done sirloin instead. Leaning over, she murmured her selection to Walter before resting her cheek against his arm....

Walter Skinner sometimes wondered why all the ladies in a group attending a reception or dinner party would adjourn to the powder room at the same time. Perhaps it was simply a factor of safety in numbers in a strange place, he decided. His eyes following Mariel as she linked her arm with her mother's arm and moved through the tables toward the foyer, he did not turn until Leo McLaughlin pushed his chair back. "Well, now that the ladies are occupied, I can go arrange for the danceband to play some tunes Nora likes," he said with a grin. "She does like to take some turns on the floor."

After his step-father left the table, Lt.Col. Fraser asked, "What about you, Mr. Skinner?" There was the hint almost of a challenge in his tone, and Skinner alerted to it. "Don't you want to have them play a song for your fiancee?" Mariel's brother was leaning forward, one elbow braced on the table and toying with his wine glass with the other hand. His blue eyes met Skinner's gaze squarely. The AD returned the look coolly. From what Mariel had told him earlier about her older brother, Skinner had not expected a warm welcome into the family from him. But the man had no reason to pepper his conversation with barely-concealed barbs. "As a matter of fact, I did that already," Skinner replied evenly. "It's hard to dance to Mozart, but I know what else Mariel likes." "And that's what's important, isn't it?" As if he was reading Skinner's mind, or simply becoming aware of his less than tactful speech, Mike went on, "Look, the ladies aren't at the table right now so I'll be frank, Mr. Skinner. I didn't want to meet you tonight so that we could immediately be buddies." He pushed the wine glass aside. Standing up, he continued, "Maybe in the future we'll know each other well enough to be friends. Right now you're just the man Mariel loves. I trust her judgment, but I'll tell you this: if you don't love my sister right, you'll hear from me."

Skinner decided to put a little intimidation factor of his own into the moment and stood very slowly until both men were eye to eye. Keeping his voice deep and quiet, he said, "Lt.Col. Fraser, I intend to love Mariel exactly as she deserves to be loved, and with my entire being."

A slow grin crept over Mike's face. "Good man!" he said, in the tone he might use when congratulating a Marine who'd received a medal of valor. "You'll do. Now, I'm for a smoke. Care to join me?"

Shaking his head, Skinner felt his lips twitch in a tiny, wry smile. --- So... Well, I can deal with the 'in your face' types --- he thought. "No, thank you. I don't smoke." Over Mike's shoulder, he saw Mariel approaching the table and walked to join her.

--- This really is a nice place to dance --- Mariel thought, taking a moment between sets to look around. At the back of The Inn, a broad, deep porch stretched the length of the building, and was furnished with groups of rattan chairs and old-fashioned glider swings. White-painted oaken stairs, bannisters draped with tiny white bulbs twined with ivy, led down from the porch to a spacious, smooth flagstone dance floor lit by oil lamps that hung from the pillars that supported the porch roof. Beyond the dance area, a verdant lawn bordered by weeping-willow trees stretched for perhaps twenty yards to the edge of the cliff. There seemed to be a fog over the Bay tonight, for a slight haze whitened the air, but the scent of the water was cool and invigorating.

Walter's arm sliding around her waist brought Mariel's attention back to the dance, and she reached up both arms to clasp her hands behind his neck. He chuckled. "Is that how you want to dance, honey?" he inquired, tightening his arm to draw her close. She yielded to the light pull, and felt her breasts pressing against the firm expanse of his chest.

"Sure. Why not?" she smiled, shifting her left arm enough to give her room to lay her head down atop his shoulder. --- I'm glad that I'm tall enough to do this --- she thought, and rubbed her forehead against his throat.

The two of them were alone now, dancing with the remaining dinner guests. Mariel had no idea what time it was, and didn't care. She wasn't tired, and didn't have classes until late the next afternoon... or was it *this* afternoon by now? She sighed, not really interested in figuring out such a complex problem.

Walter slid a hand up to lift Mariel's chin, and kissed her mouth gently. "No reason why not," he murmured, kissing her again. "I like it."

"I like it, too," she whispered. The deep, sweet throb was beginning again, and she shivered. Walter's body was warm and firm against her tall frame, and as they danced she could feel the shift and play of his muscles beneath his clothes. His breath stirred the hair at her temple and in a moment his mouth covered hers again. Oooh... she loved the touch of his mouth, of his wide, smooth lips softening the hardness of his teeth, of the taste and feel of his slightly-rough tongue that gently parted her lips now, seeking entry.

Mariel allowed the deep kiss, tasting the slightly bitter tang of Scotch upon his tongue, and closed her eyes. The soft music, the sensuality of their movements in the dance, and the deepening hunger of their kiss brushed a fiery, quivering trail along her nerves. Walter's arm tightened, and she felt his fingers toy with the clasp of her scarf. A gentle tug and the material fell away from her shoulders, sliding softly down to drape in a cowl against her back. Walter's lips lifted from hers at last, but before she could draw a full breath he trailed a line of slow, open-mouthed kisses down her neck to the sensitive hollow at the base of her throat. --- Oh, dear.... ---

Mariel pushed gently against Walter's breast, and he eased his embrace enough for her to pull back a little. His own breath was uneven, and his eyes caressed her face and downward to the bodice of her dress. The sweetheart neckline swept down on her bosom, just low enough to reveal the tiniest hint of cleavage, and Walter deliberately bent down to press a kiss upon each gently swelling curve. When he raised his head he could hear a slight pant in her breathing, and smiled. "I like, honey."

"Thank you," she whispered. In an effort to keep some sanity about her, Mariel stepped back and gathered both his hands in hers. "Let's take a walk."

"All right." Walter guided her off the dance floor and onto the lawn. As they drew away from the Inn, the oil lamps grew dimmer behind them, and the music faded to a soft, barely-heard melody.

"Oh," Mariel said as if remembering. "When they went to their room, Mom and Dad said to tell you good-night."

"I like them, honey," Walter replied matter-of-factly. "Your mother is..." He paused, suddenly unable to find the proper word. He tried again. "She is a special person."

"She sure is," Mariel said, affection plain in her voice. Then her voice softened to a near-whisper. "She thinks you're special, too, Walt."

Skinner smiled, and paused in his walk. Drawing Mariel into his arms, he said, "And I'm already taken, love." He gave her no time to reply. After a long moment, he reached into his pants pocket. "I made reservations, too, Mariel."

Startled, she reached for his hand and closed her fingers over the ornate key resting on his palm. "What? I mean..." "That one's the key to your room," he said, bending down to kiss her eyes and the tip of her nose. "The key to mine is in the other pocket." When Mariel only stood staring down at the key in her hand, Walter felt a sudden sense of trepidation. Wondering if he'd made a painful mistake, he swallowed and said, "I mean... I thought that you might not want to make the long drive back so late at night... or early in the morning, whichever it is." Realizing that his attempt at lightness was a miserable failure, Skinner inhaled deeply. "We can get an early start back in the morning. Or we can leave now and make the drive. It's your call, honey."

Of course he didn't mean anything by reserving rooms for them. It only made sense that neither of them would want to drive back after an evening of dining, dancing and a couple of drinks. Not that Mariel had done much drinking -- a sherry before dinner and wine with her meal was the sum total of her dissipation tonight. And Walt had drunk only a couple of Scotches, spread throughout the evening. So the drive would be no problem as far as that went. On the other hand....

Without thinking about it consciously, Mariel raised her hand and slipped the key into the bodice of her dress. Then she lifted her eyes and met Walter's slow smile, and a soft blush warmed her cheeks. "You're right, sweetheart," she said quietly. "We'll both enjoy the drive more after a good night's sleep." Skinner moved into the shadow of a large willow, pulling Mariel gently after him. She turned to face the Bay, and he leaned back against the tree, cradling her into his arms. They stood together, his arms around her waist, her body turned slightly so that her head could rest comfortably upon his chest. His heart pulsed in an even, steady rhythm beneath her ear, and she closed her eyes, lulled by the sweet sound. Above the Bay, the moon was near to setting, and Skinner watched the last milky rays dissipate along the line of the moving tide. He could barely hear the music now, and crickets chirped softly around them. Skinner kissed Mariel's temple, and slowly shifted one hand from her waist so he could gently brush his fingertips over her belly. When she only sighed to the touch, he slipped his other hand through her hair, working the upswept knot free until her tresses poured down over his hand to her shoulders. Twining the silken curls through his fingers, Walter pulled her head back slightly and claimed her mouth as was his right.

--- Oh! This is so good.... --- Mariel returned the kiss with a fervor that was both shy and eager all at the same time. She felt his hand move down from her belly, and after a moment, he found what he was searching for. Mariel gasped against his mouth at this new touch that was both frightening and exquisite beyond belief. She reached for his hand, spreading her fingers upon his, wanting him to stop. And yet... Somehow, her hand shifted his, just a little, then pressed down, holding him steady.

A soft growl rumbled up from his throat, and he whispered, "Yes...." The soft susurration of that whisper flamed through her body, flamed him as well, and he gave himself up to the sweet prelude of lovemaking. Skinner knew that more than physical desire guided him now. It was also a man's deep, instinctive hunger to unite with his beloved, to share his strength and his very self, and to please and satisfy his love. "Yes... I love you... Mariel..."

Mariel felt against her back a hardness that was more than that of flat, firm abdominals and perfectly toned thigh muscles. A hardness that was going to be just for her, always just for her.... Swallowing hard, her voice a mere breath of sound, she whispered, "Walt, I... I'm getting close to my limit...."

"Are you, love?" There was a lilt in his deep velvet voice, a cadence of love and joy. "I'm so glad."

At last, drawing on all the resources of her will, Mariel turned her head away from Walter's kiss. She gasped, "Please... Stop it, Walt. Please..."

"God, honey... I don't want to stop. Not now."

"I don't, either! That's why... we have to." She pulled away at last. Standing close but not touching, they gathered their breath and their wits. Skinner murmured, "Honey, this... this isn't easy for me. I've waited for your love all my life."

Mariel bit her lip hard. "Damn it, Walt! Do you think staying a virgin has been easy for me? I'm 34 years old, and I wasn't raised in a cave on the moon! I'm a woman and... and..." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "And I love you, too. You're the man I want... You think that I don't want to lie in your arms and feel your heart pounding over mine as we... we..." Walter took her hands gently, raised them to kiss her palms with deep tenderness. "Sh-h-h. It's all right, honey."

Mariel calmed a little, gentled by the love in his touch and his voice. "I'm not a virgin because there's something the matter with me, you know. It... it is part of my beliefs, but also I... I promised myself that I'd give my future husband all of me to cherish. *All*, Walt!" She touched his cheek shyly. "It's only two more weeks. Please help me keep my promise. I love you so much."

Walter Skinner knew that every breath he drew for the rest of his life would be for this woman, and for their love. "All right, love," he said, laying his hand upon hers. "The next promises we make will be at the altar."

Mariel smiled, a slow, warm, deep smile that lighted her entire being. She leaned forward, and pressed a tender kiss upon his lips. "Good night, dearest love," she whispered, and slowly drew away from his arms. "And sleep well, my sweetest friend."

Skinner watched her walk back toward the Inn, and slowly followed. She paused at the patio door, and lifted her palm to her mouth, pantomiming a kiss. He returned the gesture, and leaned against a pillar as she entered the building. Soon a light came on in a room above his head, and he smiled up toward the window. His love was in that room, and two Saturdays from now, he would be there with her, in her arms, man and wife at last. And then she could feel his heart pounding upon hers as she gave him her sweetest gift, and he gave back to her the love that would last them for always.

Smiling, Walter Skinner climbed the stairs and entered the Inn. The End -- For Now...