An End Most Sweet
Summary: Mulder reports to Skinner upon returning from a case.
Implied m/m implied slash implied disciple brief language (6th paragraph
only, if you want to skip it), brief humor if that bugs you {g}
"Sir?"
"Where's Agent Scully?" Skinner growled.
"I thought--" Mulder's voice caught and he cleared it awkwardly. "I
thought it might be best for both of us, sir, if she did not attend
this meeting."
A nod. "Sit down, Agent Mulder." The growl was quite pronounced.
Mulder fidgeted in the chair as he waited.
His superior finished going over some forms, removed his glasses,
massaged the bridge of his nose, /FUCK fuck fuck fuck fuck! I'm in for
it this time/ and finally met his gaze. "Agent Mulder, do you have any
explanation for your actions in Minnesota?"
"Yes sir, I stated them quite clearly in my report." He gestured to
the desk.
"I am to believe that during a routine assignment in Louisiana--
*Louisiana,* Agent Mulder!--you discovered information regarding the
existence of werewolves in *Minnesota?*"
"Yes, sir."
"*Minnesota?*" the AD repeated as if stunned.
"Yes, sir. You assigned me to a murder investigation in Baton Rouge.
A possible X-File. While there, I discovered that the murderer was
not, in fact, a Satanist but a man dressed in a chicken suit for
purposes psych is still trying to determine, who told me some very
interesting things."
"What things, Agent Mulder?"
"He was paid, sir."
"Does this have any relevance, Agent?"
"He was paid to wear the chicken suit, sir. To leave chicken feathers
behind at the scene."
"I fail to see the connection, Agent Mulder."
"It took several hours for us to trace the money back through sixteen
aliases and we ended up in the small town of Itsen, Minnesota."
"None of this information appears in your report. None of this was
mentioned by the local office. And who is we?"
Mulder ignored him. "The chicken suit--have you ever seen a real
chicken suit, sir? real feathers? I don't think I'm ever going to
laugh at Disney characters again--was a convenient distraction. The
news items from Minnesota was quite obviously a possible X-file which
I would have had to bring to your attention. You would have had to
sign the 302 given the sheer volume of substantiated eyewitness
accounts. I had to be removed from this office prior to the efforts
in Minnesota. Nothing that looked like an X-file? Fake one. Send ol'
Spooky Mulder out after another Satanist cult."
"Agent Mulder, are you claiming that several murders were committed
solely to divert your attention?"
"No, sir. I'm claiming that the group responsible for the violence in
Minnesota--obviously caused by some sort of virus experiment, sir,
since the werewolves did not respond to silver--discovered the
murderer after his first attempt and promised their silence and
several million dollars if he would wear the chicken suit."
"Agent Mulder--"
"Let me finish, sir." Mulder leveled his gaze at his boss. "This
requires some help, sir. It requires that someone contact you and
'suggest' that I be sent on a particular case."
"Mulder, are you suggesting I would compromise the mission of the
X-files?"
"Yes, sir. I am." He took a deep breath. "Who did they threaten, sir?
You or me?"
Skinner put his head in his hands. "You, Mulder. I wouldn't have--I
wouldn't have done it if it had been me. I can't--you hate me, I know
you do, but it kept you alive, didn't it?"
Mulder reached across the desk and took one hand. "I understand,
Walter. Promise me you'll tell me next time and we'll talk about it."
Skinner swallowed, replaced his professional demeanor, and
straightened up. "You do realize, Agent Mulder, that you still broke
several Bureau rules, gave information on a case to outside agents,
left for a different state without informing any of your superiors,
did not file a full report with either the local office or myself,
and entered a crime scene in Minnesota under false pretenses?"
"Yes, sir."
"You do realize you're going to have to be reprimanded for that action?"
"Yes, sir. Eventually, sir. Right now, there's something between us to
take care of on that same theme."
"Was it worth it?"
"Yes, sir." Mulder folded his hands in his lap, completely composed.
Skinner stared at the agent. "Do you--"
"I do remember our agreement, sir." Mulder met his gaze clearly.
Skinner only half nodded, reaching down to open the bottom drawer of
his desk and removing a small paddle. They both watched as he opened
a suddenly numb hand. The paddle fell to the table with a dull thunk.
"Mulder..." Skinner couldn't seem to finish his sentence.
"It's all right, Walter," Mulder assured him quietly, getting to his
feet. "I won't hit hard."