Small Steps
by Cadillac Red
Disclaimer: Fox Mulder, Dana Scully and Walter Skinner et al do not belong to me; they belong to Chris Carter and Fox. I mean no harm and will make no money from their use. Fiona Barefoot and the Skinner family belong to me.
Spoilers: None
Setting: Seventh Season.
Rating: PG. Discipline, no slash.
Summary: The approaching new millennium may signal the end of the world . . . or not, as a string of small steps take Skinner and Mulder into the new year.
Crystal City, Virginia
Sunday, December 26
6:23 p.m.
Walter Skinner took the bag of Chinese food from the delivery man, handing over three $10 bills and telling him to keep the change. The young man's face lit up.
"Thank you," he said. "Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas," the AD answered. He'd probably overtipped but what the heck, it was the holidays. And it had been a good Christmas so he was feeling especially generous. As he headed for the kitchen, he found himself wondering whether that generosity should extend to the young man in the spare bedroom today.
"Come on, boy," he told Yoda. The dog had come into the living room from the spare bedroom at the sound of the doorbell, ready to defend the apartment from intruders, if necessary. Now the puppy followed happily behind him, obviously hoping some of the food he smelled was for him.
Skinner and Mulder had returned spending Christmas in Danville a little while earlier. His mother had made a sumptuous traditional Russian breakfast for everyone before they left and, despite the fact they'd all spent the weekend together, the meal went on and on, in the Russian tradition.
Skinner felt especially good about how natural and engaged Mulder had been while he was with the Skinner family. He'd played Pokemon computer games with Brian and Haley, bringing an enthusiasm to the activity that could be traced to the fact he'd actually been a big Pokemon fan only a couple of months ago.
And he'd talked music with Mike, poring through the CD's Skinner had given him for Christmas and trading insights into the lyrics of Guster ad nauseum. Again, the breadth of his knowledge betrayed his recent first-hand experience as a teenager. And although Skinner had thought a grown-up Mulder would never listen to the music young Fox had liked, the fact was the younger man's tastes had always been eclectic and never more so than now.
Because he wasn't planning to be with the Skinners for Christmas, Mulder had shipped presents for the entire family. He went a little overboard with the things he bought but every single one had been individually selected based on everything the younger man knew about the Skinners from his months among them. From a first edition historical text for Joe, to a new pair of competition skis for Andy, to a charm bracelet for Amanda, the gifts represented the recipient's heart's desire.
A Palm Pilot, equipped with the latest infrared technology and personally customized by the Lone Gunmen was Mulder's present for Skinner and the AD shuddered to think what all those customizations might actually do! He wasn't a hundred percent certain the thing would make it past the Bureau's security checkpoint in the lobby.
Skinner had gotten Fox alone later on Christmas Day and lightly admonished him. "I spent the past six months getting your bank balance back in the black, pal," he said, draping an arm over the young man's shoulders. "Your appreciation would have been more than enough!"
"I just want everyone to know . . . how much I do appreciate them," Mulder had said, a lump forming in his throat.
Later on he'd even offered to help Eileen with little Griffin when he was growing cranky.
"Let me try," he'd said, taking the seven month old into his arms and walking him out into the quiet of the enclosed side porch the family called the sun room because of its southern exposure. Skinner peeked in once and heard him murmuring softly to the baby as he bounced him on his lap. "How's my godson, huh? I'm feeling a little tired, too, pal. Don't let me keep you up."
A little while later, Eileen called Skinner and Rachel to the door of the sun room. Griffin was sleeping peacefully on the shoulder of his godfather who was sound asleep himself in the big overstuffed chair. Remembering it, Skinner felt once again the rush of warmth and contentment that had come over him at that moment.
Today, he and Mulder watched the early Sunday football game with the family in Danville before heading back to D.C. Skinner had arrived at the apartment more than an hour ago with Yoda but Mulder had gone on to his own place in Alexandria to pick up work clothes for the week.
He was spending the next week or so with Skinner and the AD was relieved about it. Their attempt to go 'cold turkey' following Mulder's sudden return to adulthood had been a miserable experience for both men and this punishment tour would serve two purposes as a result. It would get Mulder back on a solid routine as he reoriented himself to adulthood. And it would allow them both the chance to work together to iron out the changes this would bring to their relationship.
Skinner smiled to himself as he put out a couple of plates and utensils in the kitchen. He'd been certain Mulder was not looking forward to the coming week as much as he was. But then the younger agent had shown up at his apartment with enough clothes to last a month. He was putting things away in the spare bedroom at the moment.
"Fox!" Skinner called from the kitchen as he placed the bowl with Yoda's food on the floor. "Get a move on. Dinner's getting cold."
The young man appeared a moment later, smiling sheepishly. "I was just . . . putting things back where they belong. You know, a lot of stuff got moved around recently and I know how you like things in order."
Skinner nodded amiably. While Mulder's apartment and his office reflected his natural tendency toward chaos, he had learned to keep things in the Crystal City apartment neat and organized. The AD mused that it was as much a testimony to the younger man's natural adaptability as to the discipline Skinner had taught him in recent years.
"Egg rolls, spare ribs, shrimp toast and sweet and sour soup," he said as he placed the cartons on the table. "I thought a light meal tonight, after that breakfast and yesterday's dinner."
"Good idea, sir," Mulder said as he swallowed a bite of egg roll. "That breakfast Gram made was the most stick to your ribs meal I've ever had! . . . I mean, your mother made . . . ."
"That's okay, Fox," Skinner chuckled. "I knew exactly who you meant."
"This is going to be . . . it's gonna take a little while to get used to everything again," Mulder said, his spoon poised in mid-air. He waved it as he spoke. "I'm kind of afraid I might slip . . . you know, and call someone the wrong thing at the wrong time."
Skinner suspected the 'someone' Mulder referred to was him. "Well. . . I was just thinking that you're a naturally adaptable person, Fox. You adjust to new circumstances faster than just about anyone I know. I think you'll be all right. . . . And what's the worst thing that could happen? You call me 'Dad' in a meeting? First off, it would probably never happen and second, most people would just take that as a snide comment on my age . . . ."
Mulder snorted. "Nah, if I was commenting on your age, I'd call you 'Pops," he said with a laugh.
Now it was Skinner's turn to laugh. Then he fixed the younger man with a glare behind which there was an unmistakable twinkle. "Fox. Let me be perfectly clear about this. Don't ever call me 'Pops. Not if you value your life. Got that?"
Mulder blinked and nodded actively. He thought the AD might be kidding but he fact he had a bedtime spanking coming foremost in his mind and pissing off the AD prior to it was not in his best interest. "I . . . yeah, I got that, D-, sir. Yes, sir, I got it."
A little while later they'd cleared up the couple of dinner dishes and Mulder had gone inside to get ready for bed. He'd washed up and changed into a tee-shirt and pajamas bottoms and was sitting on the bed waiting for the Assistant Director. He was nervous and the pit of his stomach was doing flip-flops. He tried to analyze what was causing this reaction. He'd never liked a single spanking he'd ever received in his life but . . . the rituals and affection that came with punishment from Skinner (or Gran, or any of the Skinner men) always made it easier.
But tonight, something was different. He wasn't sure what it was but he knew he felt anxious about what was going to happen. It had hit him suddenly, when he was washing up. But it wasn't going away and it worried him. He'd been so sure the trip to Danville, and spending Christmas with the Skinners would get him back into a familiar place. And that he'd feel at home there. But . . . .
The bedroom door opened and Skinner entered the room. He called Yoda from his perch on the bed and ushered the puppy out of the room, closing the door behind him. Yoda was a natural guard dog and, when Skinner had to punish Fox as a kid, he'd turned into the boy's protector more than once. The AD wasn't taking any chances tonight.
He walked over and took a seat on the bed next to Mulder. The younger man had looked up when the door opened but now he was staring at his own feet, and biting his bottom lip.
"Talk to me, Fox," he said. It was his 'command voice' and he'd chosen it carefully. Something was wrong with Mulder and Skinner knew from long experience that getting him to talk about it was the only was to be sure what it was. Mulder was brilliant but when it came to these personal issues he employed a corkscrew kind of logic that would give you a case of whiplash just going along for the ride.
Mulder shrugged in response.
"Not good enough. Talk to me. I want to know what's bothering you."
Mulder sighed audibly. "I-- I just don't want . . . . I don't want you to be disappointed in me. I don't want you to think I didn't learn anything from . . . growing up with you."
"I don't think that--"
"But here we are again! And you have to p-punish me for, you know, for lying! And speeding! And you've done that before and I . . . I just keep doing those things!"
Skinner paused, trying to find the right words. "Well, you're right, you've been punished for these things before. But who says every lesson is learned the first time? In fact, I don't think the truly important lessons are learned that easily--"
Mulder shook his head. "But you must think I'll never get it! I'm beginning to wonder if I'll ever . . . finally . . . "
The AD reached out and grasped Mulder's shoulder, turning him to look toward him. At first the younger man kept his face turned but he quickly realized his attention was required and met the other man's eyes.
"I don't think that. I think you're one of the smartest, most decent and honorable people I know. You have a blind spot when it comes to your own safety and I'll be on your back about that for as long as it takes to correct it. But I know you learn. You confessed about the speeding, Fox. I would never have known otherwise. And you admitted the lie, too, before I called you on it."
Mulder blinked, then the light of realization dawned in his eyes. A slow smile crept to his lips and he nodded. "You're right," he said quietly. "I did admit it, didn't I? So . . . I guess I don't deserve a spanking after all . . . ."
Skinner grinned at him. "Nice try, kid. Now get the paddle out of the closet. The black leather one--"
"The paddle? That one stings like . . . It just plain hurts!" he sputtered. "And I just told you I don't even agree I deserve a spanking--"
Skinner listened to him until he ran out of steam, not responding in anyway. Finally the younger man came to a stop, arms crossed over his chest in a show of defiance. ". . . so I'm not getting that paddle."
Skinner bit his tongue to keep from laughing. He suspected it had taken all of the younger agent's limited supply of self-control to keep from ending that sentence with 'So there!' and sticking out his tongue. Once he was certain he'd betray no amusement, he spoke.
"How would you feel if I agreed, Fox? If I let you off the hook without punishment?"
Mulder's hazel eyes reflected his surprise and a glimmer of triumph. "I'd feel . . . happy," he said definitively. "Very happy."
"Uh-huh," Skinner said, nodding agreeably. "And then? After that brief moment of . . . 'happiness,' how do you think you'd feel?"
Mulder knew exactly where the AD was going and he was having none of it. "I'd feel even happier," he stated firmly.
Skinner nodded again. "I see. Can you give me another adjective, Fox? Something other than 'happy?' Describe how you'd feel tomorrow."
Mulder pressed his lips together, and squirmed a little despite his best efforts. He would just refuse to answer . . . But the silence grew oppressive and he found himself thinking about how he would feel tomorrow. His own nature, and his respect and love for the man beside him, double-teamed him into responding.
"I think I'll feel a little bit . . . insecure," he said, speaking in little more than a whisper. "And I'll be wondering if everything that's happened in the past six months changed how you feel about me. And how far you'll stick with me. . . ."
Skinner sighed inwardly. He'd been certain Fox's innate honesty would win out but . . . still, it was a struggle to stay a step ahead of the younger man. "Exactly," he murmured quietly. "Get the paddle, Fox."
Mulder hesitated another few seconds, then he rose and went to the closet. The black leather paddle they'd bought the previous year was sitting on the shelf next to an extra pair of sneakers and his gym bag. He picked it up and walked back to the bed, handing it over wordlessly.
"Thank you," Skinner said. "Now, get in position." He sat back and waited for Mulder to drop to his knees next to the AD's long legs. It had been a while since he'd punished the adult version and it took them a moment to get the positions correct. Then the AD pulled down Mulder's pajama bottoms and asked him the traditional question. "What's this paddling for?" he said as he smacked the paddle down on the waiting buttocks.
"For-- OWWW!" Mulder blurted. The sting of the paddle was a surprise despite his earlier protests. "For lying about where I was sp-spending Christmas! OUCHHH! OWWW!"
Skinner maintained a steady rhythm as he asked the younger man to expand on his statement. "And who did you lie to, Fox?"
"OHHH! AHHH! To you! And to Scully! OWWWW! And to your family!" he cried, squirming over the AD's lap. Skinner pulled him more tightly in, regaining his hold on the other man's waist and repositioning him for the best striking angle.
"And what else, Fox? What else did you do to deserve this punishment?"
"I--OHHH, GOD! I was speeding! AHHH! I was speeding on the Pennsylvania Pike!" His legs flailed in the air behind him and he gritted his teeth to keep from bawling openly. But it didn't really work for long.
"And you've gotten a speeding ticket on the Pike before, haven't you? I had to make some promises on your behalf to get it dropped so AD Kersh wouldn't find out. So another ticket there would be a (SMACK!) big (SMACK!) mistake! (SMACK!)
"But I didn't get OWWW! a ticket!"
"And that's only because you ran into a very forgiving state trooper! Unfortunately for you, I won't let you off that easy!"
Skinner pounded the paddle down on the fleshiest part of his backside a few more times then paused to question him further. "And how fast were you going, young man?"
"OH, NO! I mean, I-- I guess about eighty!" Mulder's brain had quickly jumped to where the AD was going and computed the tally. "Please!--"
"That's one whack for every mile over the speed limit, Fox," Skinner told him. "You know the drill. Count them." He smacked the paddle down on Fox's butt hard.
"AHH! One! OWWW! Two! UNNHH! Three! . . . ."
The Assistant Director heard his yelling turn to sobs and knew he'd passed the critical point with Fox. The younger man counted out the rest of the fifteen, crying hard and promising the world in return for a reprieve.
"T-twelve! OUCCHHH! AAAHHH! Please! I'll never do it again! Thirteen! OHHH! I'll never speed again! Four-fourteen! OWWWW! I'll never do it again, I promise! Fifteen!" He continued to stay there, hanging limply over the other man's knees as he sobbed his heart out. "I won't do-do it again! I've learned my l-lesson, I promise!"
Skinner rubbed Mulder's back soothingly for a moment, giving him time to settle down. The AD knew the paddle stung like the dickens, and it left the younger man's bottom glowing, but the paddle did no lasting damage.
Skinner given this a lot of thought in the past two days and he was certain of one thing: Fox instinctively needed a strong foundation, and very solid boundaries. He needed to know there were lines he couldn't cross without suffering severe consequences and this first night's punishment needed to be harsh enough to reestablish that firmly in his mind. Lenience could come later, once Fox was secure inside the limits of their rules.
"Okay, up you go now, Fox," he said after another minute. "Into the corner--"
"Wh-what?" the younger man stammered as he hit his knees after sliding off the AD's legs. "Why-- why?" His voice sank to something that sounded suspiciously like a whine even to his own ears.
"Because I said so," the AD said pulling him to his feet and pushing him into the corner. "Fifteen minutes. Got any idea why fifteen, son?"
Mulder grimaced and rolled his eyes, careful to do it into the wall so Skinner wouldn't see his actions. "Fifteen minutes for fifteen miles over the speed limit, right?" His voice was tinged with just the slightest note of annoyance and it wasn't exactly shocking when the AD's right hand delivered a stinging swat to his still bare bottom. "OWWW!"
"Careful, Fox. You know what a smart mouth always earns you."
"Y-yes, sir!"
Skinner positioned Fox's hands so they were holding up the tail of his tee shirt and told the younger man to stay like that until he returned. Which he did, a minute later. He had set the kitchen timer for fifteen minutes and he placed it on the night table next to Fox. "Stand up straight," he barked and Fox immediately stood to attention. "And stand still. That 's part of the discipline, kid."
Fox nodded and bit down on his lower lip. His backside was stinging and burning still. That damn paddle's the worst! He was immensely annoyed the AD had used it, and that he had him standing in the corner now with his well-paddled butt on display just like when he was a kid . . . . He never did this when I was grown-up before! He desperately wanted to rub some of the sting out of his abused bottom but the AD was in and out of his room and he couldn't risk it. Not with the mood the older man was obviously in tonight. So he wisely kept his complaints to himself and breathed a sigh of relief when the timer went off a while later.
Skinner was back in the room in a few seconds. "You can pull your pajamas up now, Fox," he said lightly. He glanced at the clock on the nightstand and it was exactly 7:30 p.m. "Time for bed."
The younger man readjusted his clothes and turned to get into the bed. But the massive presence of the AD blocked his route and he was quickly enveloped in a hug that brought new tears to his eyes. It was a strange yet comfortingly familiar feeling to be full grown and sniffling into this man's shoulder.
"I'm sorry," Mulder whispered. "I'm sorry I made you so mad--"
"I'm not mad, Fox," Skinner told him as he rubbed the back of the younger man's head affectionately. "But I think you needed a sharp reminder tonight. Of all the things we've decided over the last couple of years. Of the rules and the consequences when you break those rules." He heard Mulder sob once more into his shoulder, then he felt the stiffness in his body melt away.
"Okay, I mean it this time, pal. Bed."
Fox moved automatically to obey, sliding into the bed the AD had turned down while he was standing in the corner. Skinner sat down beside him and smiled.
"Welcome back, kid," he said as his own voice cracked over the words. "It's good to have you home."
Mulder sighed forcefully, then a smile began to work its way out. "It's good to be back," he said glancing around the room. He'd spent a lot of time here as an adult and several months from the time he was a baby until he was about seven years old. "When'd you have the big bed put back in this room?"
Skinner chuckled. "When I moved back in. I didn't think you'd want the junior bed again."
Mulder nodded. "I guess not," he yawned. "But I kinda liked those Batman sheets. . . "
In a moment he was asleep and Skinner leaned down and kissed him lightly on the forehead. "Welcome back," he whispered. Then he turned out the light and let Yoda back into the room. The dog jumped up on the bed and took his usual place at the foot of the mattress. "Don't let anything happen to him," he told the dog as he closed the door and headed into the living room. The AD had a couple of hours of work to do in preparation for the next day but, for the first time in weeks, he felt a sense of peace and contentment in the apartment.
Tuesday evening
6:45 p.m.
Fox was sitting in the living room, watching television and chewing on a few sunflower seeds. It had been a quiet week at work so far. Scully was in California with her family and she'd called today to say she was staying an extra day. Her mother and she had come across some old friends from the Navy days and were invited to their home in the mountains for the day.
"Well, Scully, you're missing a great week here," Mulder had teased her that afternoon. "I've been on time every day. And I've even taken a lunch break. Twice. Went home at five o'clock yesterday. It's the new and improved Fox Mulder."
"Well, I'm glad to hear it," she answered with a laugh. "Think you can keep it up till I get back on Thursday? A nice, normal day in the office would be the best Christmas present you could give me."
Her comment brought a pang of guilt as he hadn't yet given her a Christmas present. Things had been hectic and kind of strange and he hadn't gotten around to it before she left. But Scully glossed over the subject and went into a long story about the friends she and her mother were going to visit.
When she finished, he said he'd see her Thursday morning, bright and early at the Hoover building and they hung up. At least they'd get to spend New Year's together. And maybe he'd get up the nerve to give her his Christmas present. . . .
Now he was brooding as he watched the evening news, and hoping Skinner would get home soon because the pizza he'd brought home was calling Mulder's name. The AD's key in the door shook him out of his reverie.
"Hi," he said as he rose and went to the door. Skinner looked tired. And worried. Mulder wondered about what was causing that. From what he could see it had been a slow week for everyone else at FBI headquarters. He grabbed the AD's briefcase and Skinner seemed for a second to not want to give it up. Then he handed it over and shrugged off his overcoat.
"I'll get dinner ready," Mulder said solicitously. "Pizza and beer. I think I can handle the details--" He looked abashed when Skinner gave him a questioning look. "Pizza and beer for you," he explained. "Iced tea for me." He was on a punishment tour, after all, and drinking didn't make the 'approved list' during one of those. "Why don't you just relax for a few minutes?"
He went to the kitchen, still curious as hell about what was causing the Assistant Director's noticeable stress. He hoped it didn't have anything to do with having to ride herd on his houseguest. After a slight misstep the first night, Mulder had tried diligently to behave himself this week, so as not to wear out his welcome on this first return engagement.
He pulled the pizza out of the oven where it had been re-heating and popped open a bottle of iced tea for himself and a light beer for the AD. Then he went into the living room to call Skinner. But his curiosity got the better of him when he saw the other man sitting on the couch, head buried in an FBI case file. Mulder was fairly certain it was the same one he'd seen Skinner take out the night before, just prior to sending Mulder to the bedroom for his nightly spanking and (early!) bedtime. He walked quietly into the living room and stopped about a foot away from Skinner, straining to read what was in the file upside down and from a distance.
Unfortunately Skinner caught sight of his visitor and snapped the file shut. "Something wrong, Fox?" he asked as he stood and put the file back into his briefcase.
That in itself struck Mulder as odd. Skinner would probably want to work on the file later tonight. Why not just leave it out?
Over dinner, his curiosity got the best of him and he asked the question that had been plaguing him.
"So what's in the file you've been working on?" he asked as casually as he could pull off. "I'm having a slow week. Anything I can help with?"
Skinner finished chewing a piece of crust and swallowed it down. Then he washed it down with a slug from his beer bottle. "No, just something I'm looking at for the Director," he said. Then he sought to change the subject. "Scully back tomorrow?"
Mulder shook his head. "She decided to take another day of vacation and fly back tomorrow. Her Mom wanted to go see some old friends from the Naval base out there. She'll be back on Thursday."
Skinner was immediately concerned. Mulder with little to occupy him was dangerous. A bored Mulder without Scully to rein him in was an accident waiting to happen. He decided to do something about it. They had to get through one more day without his partner and he had a full day's work to delegate to Agent Mulder.
"Well, there is something you can do for me then," he said as he helped himself to another slice of pizza. "I have a ton of expense reports that have been piling up because of my reduced work schedule. Various departments are clamoring for their expenses to be paid and I promised to get it done by year-end. I want you to review them, then do the write-up and send it in to Accounting--"
"Oh, come on!" Mulder exclaimed, putting his glass down with a bang. "I mean, I'm here on a punishment tour! I'm going to bed every night at seven freakin' thirty! And getting a damn bedtime spanking every night! But I'm drawing the line here! Doing months of backed up expense reports is just . . . just cruel and unusual punishment!" He watched Skinner's eyebrows shoot up to his forehead and immediately began to regret his outburst. "I mean . . . with all due respect, sir."
The AD watched a look of fear and regret descend over the younger agent's features. "Are you through?" he asked calmly.
Mulder looked like he was giving it real consideration. "Yeah."
"Good. Now let me tell you where I think Accounting will have the most problems. Since there haven't been any unusual X-files expense reports in recent months, I don't think you'll have too much trouble. . . Except for the especially deserving spanking you just bought yourself tonight . . . "
Mulder glanced up and locked eyes with the other man, just to let him know the editorial comment on his own expense reports did not pass unnoticed. And that he'd already guessed his earlier outburst had earned him extra whacks tonight. Then he sighed and began taking mental notes. Tomorrow was gonna be a helluva boring day.
Wednesday evening
7:20 p.m.
Skinner unlocked the door and a weary Fox Mulder followed him into the apartment. The two men had had an uneventful day, except for Skinner's long meeting with the Attorney General and the Director. And of course, Agent Mulder's epic battle with the folks in the Accounting Department over their disallowance of about half of the division's expenses for the past several months.
Mulder, however, was a force of nature when he had a cause. And he'd bullied, cajoled and bullshitted the acting head of the accounting department for hours until the poor man finally capitulated on almost everything. Winston had held firm on refusing to pay for Agent Delaney's cab ride from San Francisco to Los Angeles, pointing out that the manual clearly states agents should find the most cost-effective route from one location to another. He agreed to reimburse the young agent for the cost of the airline ticket and he had to stand the difference between that and the outrageous carfare.
Privately Skinner thought Mulder had achieved a level of approval no one else could have approached. No one else would have had the nerve. But over dinner at Russo's with Agents Delaney and Carney, Mulder had assured the younger agent he was going back for round two in the morning. And the AD had no doubt he would. If Winston doesn't call in a sick-day. God knows that's what most people would do under the circumstances.
They were late getting home and Mulder automatically headed for the bedroom to change and wash up. Skinner smiled to himself as he began unpacking some work to go over tonight. In the old days, Mulder usually fought a punishment tour. But now he was a fascinating mixture of the old Fox Mulder and the kid who'd grown up in a Skinner household. He still had moments of rebellion but in between, he was calmer and more at peace than the AD could remember him. It was actually a pleasure to have him in the house.
Skinner took Yoda down for a short walk while Mulder got ready for bed. He came back about ten minutes later and found Mulder in the living room, very pointedly leafing through outdated issue of "Deep Sea Fishing." Skinner noticed the stack of files on the coffee table and suspected that if he dusted for fingerprints he'd turn up some nice ones that belonged to Mulder. He wasn't too worried, though. The file relating to his work for the Director was in the office tonight as nothing new had been added to it today.
Mulder stood up immediately, avoiding eye contact, a sure sign of guilt! and headed for the bedroom. He was dressed in a gray tee shirt and blue flannel pajama bottoms and he was freshly scrubbed. At these moments, he looked an awful lot like the kid he'd been just a short few weeks ago, the AD thought. And acted an awful lot like that kid, too. Skinner chuckled under his breath and followed him into the bedroom.
"So have you made your New Year's resolutions yet, kid?" he asked as he entered the spare bedroom. "No snooping would be a good one to add to the list."
Mulder was sitting cross-legged on the bed. He turned a light pink and bit down on his lower lip. "Well . . ." he said slowly, "if you really think about it, that could actually be career suicide, sir."
Skinner laughed. "Well, maybe I'll rephrase then. How about "I will exercise a little restraint and good judgment in 2000?'
Mulder relaxed a little seeing the AD was obviously in a pretty good humor. He screwed up his courage to ask the question that was on his mind. "Speaking of the New Year . . . I was wondering about Friday night. Am I still gonna be . . . here?"
Skinner turned the question over in his mind. He'd been running that one around in his head as well. "I've been thinking about that," he said slowly, taking a seat in the chair across from the bed. "Usually the family is at my parent's house. But with the whole millennium scare, I've gotta stick close to home this year. Andy and Eileen decided not to fly, just in case the predictions turn out to be true. And after Dad's heart attack, my mother wants it to be a quiet New Year's for them."
He steepled his fingers. "Fiona's having a party. She's invited you and me. And Scully. It's close enough to home for me to get to the office if I get called. I think that's what I'm going to do. And you," he looked up, giving Mulder a small smile. "You should do something fun. I'm inclined to spring you for the celebration. You deserve it -- and how many millenniums will you be around to see?"
Mulder's face lit up and he nodded enthusiastically. "This will probably be it," he said. "Unless the consortium decides to use me as a time travel guinea pig next."
"Fox," Skinner said warningly, rising from the chair. "Don't even joke about things like that." He took a seat on the bed and waited for Mulder to fall into their nightly routine. The young man knelt by his side and allowed himself to be pulled forward. His pajama bottoms came down and Skinner gave him a sharp smack. "What's this punishment for, kid?"
"To-- to remind me! That I'm being punished! Oucchh! And why I'm being punished! Owwww! F-for lying! And for speeding!"
Skinner delivered four more swats and Mulder began to slide off his legs. He usually got six smacks unless he'd done something to deserve additional punishment during the day. But Skinner grabbed him around the waist and secured him back in place. He issued two more hard smacks.
OHHH! OUCCHH! What-- what's that for?" Mulder cried out, obviously surprised by the additional whacks.
"That's for snooping, Fox," Skinner said, adding four more. The young man's cheeks turned a rosy pink by the time he was done. "You should know better . . . "
"I'm s-sorry! I-- I do know better! I just-- I'm sorry!" he sobbed. "I won't do it again."
Skinner let him calm down for a moment, and rubbed slow circles on his back as he waited. But then it was time for the younger agent to spend his fifteen minutes of corner time. Skinner had left the kitchen timer in the bedroom, using it each night to time Mulder's sojourn in the corner. Tonight he went quietly to his post, careful not to rub his butt. Or lean into the wall. All of these things were part and parcel of the discipline he'd learned, and failure to comply only brought further punishment.
The timer went off and Mulder waited for Skinner to come back into the room and release him. The AD was there in a moment and he held up the covers as the young man slipped in under them. Then Skinner adjusted them over him and sat down on the bed.
"Are you going to ask Scully if she wants to come to the party on Friday?"
Mulder reddened, and Skinner wondered what was at the root of that reaction. "Well. . . . I'll have to see what she's doing. She might have plans . . . with somebody else."
Skinner seriously doubted that one. He decided to press the point. "Why don't you take her out to dinner? You two haven't had much chance to spend time together since . . . you've been back at work. I could call Mario at Canastelli's if you want and ask if he could squeeze in one more table. As a favor to me. Then you could both come by Fiona's for midnight."
Mulder nodded slowly but he didn't seem to be strongly in favor of that suggestion. "I could ask her," he said. "I still haven't given her a Christmas present . . . ."
"You haven't? What did you get her?"
Mulder chewed on his lower lip in a way that made Skinner's paternal radar start pinging madly. "I-- I thought I'd give her that bracelet. . . . "
Skinner's eyebrows rose. "The one you bought for her LAST Christmas? I thought you gave that to her for her birthday?" He'd idly wondered why he never saw Scully wearing it but then he decided it was a little too fancy for her workday wardrobe. Now it turned out she'd never even gotten the thing!
"Well, I was going to but . . . the moment never seemed right. So I just re-wrapped it in Christmas paper the other day and I thought I'd try again . . . . I guess I'm a little afraid that if, you know, if it turns out she's not interested, I'll have ruined a great friendship for nothing!"
"That's what's been keeping you from telling Scully how you feel?" Skinner was incredulous. Mulder faced down monsters most people never even conceived of. But this was something he couldn't seem to get past.
"What's the worst thing that could happen, Mulder? You find out Scully loves you but not that way?" He watched a series of emotions play out on the younger man's face and immediately wanted to reassure him. "First off, I don't think that's how it would go. But if it did, the world wouldn't end, believe me. You and Scully would find a way to go on. Your friendship would survive."
Mulder nodded but his eyes were filled with anxiety. At this moment, he looked a great deal like the 13-year-old Skinner had taken to school a few short months before. "What if nobody likes me?" he'd finally asked, the truth working its way out when he was faced with taking the final steps into the Wheatley Academy.
Skinner placed a hand on Mulder's chest and looked directly into his eyes. "Fox, give her the bracelet," he said emphatically. "I promise you won't regret it." He waited for the young man to nod his acquiescence, then he rose and turned out the light. "Good night, Fox."
"Good night," Mulder replied with a yawn.
"And Fox? Give . . her . . the . . bracelet."
Mulder grimaced and nodded again. "I heard you the first time!"
Crystal City, Virginia
Thursday at 4:43 a.m.
Skinner's phone rang once and he was sitting up and answering it before the second ring sounded. "Skinner." He listened to the man on the other end of the phone. It was the Director himself and he had a potential disaster to place in the AD's lap. It had all the potential for another FBI black eye and that the AG and he would not have.
"Yes, sir," Skinner replied. "We'll keep it under wraps. But I do need to bring a couple of . . . agents fully into the loop. The two we discussed earlier today. If we have any hope of solving this thing." He listened once again and hung up. Then he hit the speed-dial for the Special Agent on Duty at headquarters.
"This is AD Skinner," he said crisply. "I need a team of agents assembled ASAP. Contact them and tell them to meet me at the office at. . . " he glanced at the clock. "At 0600 hours. I want Special Agents Mulder, Kravitz and Branson. Also someone from the FBI lab. Call AD Kendall and ask who his best analyst is these days. Yes, I know what time it is, Agent. Do it."
He hung the phone up and headed for the shower. As he was toweling off, he heard Mulder's cell phone go off in the other room. In a moment, the younger agent was stumbling out of the bedroom and into the hall bathroom. Then Skinner heard him go into the kitchen and flip the switch on the coffe the AD had prepared the night before. The timer on it wouldn't engage for another hour, Skinner's usual wake up time.
When Skinner came out of the bedroom at 5:20, Mulder was already showered and half-dressed. He came hopping out of the bedroom, one sock on and one in his hand. "What's up?"
"Briefing at 0600, Agent," Skinner told him succinctly as he grabbed a mug of coffee in a car cup and headed out. He was all AD now. "My office. Don't be late."
The briefing was short on information and long on horror. The grave of a former FBI agent, a recent suicide had been robbed, the body stolen and the area surrounding it desecrated. Skinner sent Mulder to the cemetery and asked Kravitz and Branson to work on the former agent's personal and professional lives. He scheduled the next briefing for early afternoon.
Mulder called Scully from his car, waking her up from a sound sleep. She'd arrived late the night before and he felt bad about waking her so early. But he needed her and filled her in quickly, giving her instructions about where to meet him. Then he headed for the crime scene himself.
It was a cold morning and Mulder quickly found himself at odds with the locals. He'd pointed out to them that the lining of the open casket appeared to have been clawed and that was all they needed to hear to start a minor panic. When Scully appeared, she rightly guessed he was ground zero for that little contretemps.
Their work at the cemetery took several hours and they barely had time to grab a sandwich on the way back to DC in time to make the afternoon meeting in AD Skinner's office.
There, Mulder's theory went over like the proverbial lead balloon. "It's Necromancy," he'd said to the thundering silence of his colleagues and boss. "Our suspect is raising the dead."
Skinner had quickly dismissed the other two agents, then he brought a file over to the conference table, something he was ready to share with Mulder and Scully. Mulder recognized it immediately. It was the one Skinner had been looking at at home the other night. The AD acquainted them with its contents, information about three other former FBI agents who'd killed themselves, only to have their graves desecrated like Crouch's.
"How long were you going to sit on this?" Mulder asked dryly. He hated to be sent out with less than all the available information, hated the feeling of being manipulated by the Bureau and his superiors.
Skinner gave him a fast, stony glare that quelled further protest from the younger man. "This is . . . sensitive," he told Mulder and Scully as he filled them in on the connection to the Millennium Group. Soon they were headed out again, with admonishments from the AD to 'be careful . . . and discreet.'
Armed with this new information, the two agents spent the next day and a half investigating, getting closer and closer to a truth that eerily resembled what Mulder had concluded in the first grave robbery incident. They started with a former FBI profiler named Frank Black. He provided some direction but the Assistant Director found himself startled once again by the younger agent's stunningly intuitive investigative style. He was both comforted that recent event did not compromise that talent and worried about what Fox might come up against in this pursuit.
The AD knew the Bureau's best hope of a quick resolution to this mystery was Mulder. The father he had been, and would always be henceforth, wanted to call the younger man home and keep him safe there until it was all over. Skinner sat in his office on Friday afternoon, trying to whittle away at his backlog of paperwork, waiting for a phone call from either Scully or Mulder. The phone rang but it was his mother.
"Hello, dear," she said when he answered. "Happy New Year. I'm so sorry you won't be able to be here tonight."
"I am too, Mom," he answered sincerely. "But with all the potential for Millennium problems, and Y2K problems, we're all on alert here. I'm in charge of the readiness team as well as the response teams, should something happen. Not that I think it will. . . !"
"I know," Rachel laughed. "Your Dad told me you assured him nothing will happen, too! When he called earlier. It's just that we'll miss you, that's all. And Fox."
"Fox is sorry not to be there, too."
"I've been trying to reach him. He's not answering his cell phone--"
"He's not? That's odd. I'm sure he has it with him. Maybe he's out of the area. He's out checking on something. I'll have him call you as soon as I get in touch with him myself." Skinner's internal alarm had gone off at that news but he had no intention of worrying his mother. "How's Dad doing?"
"He's fine. A little tired is all. He's napping now. I keep telling him he doesn't have to stay up for midnight but you know your father. He says he's not letting the century turn without him!"
Skinner smiled. "I know. I'm glad . . . he's sounding more like himself. I'll be up next Friday, to take him to the cardiologist."
"I'm sorry you have to take a day off for that, honey. I offered to go with him. And so did Joe. But he only wants you," she told him quietly.
"I know," Skinner answered. "It's hard for him . . . admitting to any weakness. I think he's trying to protect everyone . . . . And I don't mind, Mom. It's the least I can do, after all he's done for me over the years."
They spoke another moment, then said goodbye. Skinner immediately redialed the phone, trying to reach Mulder's cell phone.
"The cellular customer you are trying to reach is unavailable or has traveled outside the area--" he heard before banging the phone down onto its cradle. It rang again abruptly and he picked it right up. This time it was bad news. Agent Scully had been attacked at the morgue. He grabbed his trench coat and left the office at a full-out run.
She was all right but the scene at the morgue was frightening and unfathomable. And Scully didn't know where Mulder was either, except that he'd gone off to check out some locations his research had turned up. Alone. And without staying in touch with anyone.
I'll kill him when I find him! Well, first I'll give him a big hug. . . . then I'll kill him! Skinner's mouth was dry and his heart was pounding as he headed back to the Bureau. He'd called ahead and gotten the first response team to double up on the investigation of the victims. Recent travel, phone calls made or received, charge card usage. Anything that might point them in a direction that Mulder might have gone. After seeing Scully, and the body at the morgue, Skinner wanted nothing more than to locate Mulder and sit on him until this was over.
When he got there, he went right to the crisis room. They had been working on the puzzle but nothing so far was giving them the lead they needed. It was nearly 9 o'clock now and whatever the Millennium group was up to had just three hours to go down. And every instinct in his body told Skinner Mulder was probably in the thick of it.
And so he was. In the basement of a farmhouse, an injured Mulder held his right arm to try to staunch the flow of blood from a wound he couldn't begin to explain. Something, some zombie, had attacked him. He'd pocketed a handful of salt before coming in, as a precaution, and now he stood in the center of the small protective circle he'd made with it. Loss of blood made him woozy and fear and pain were driving him toward making a run for the door. Anything to try to escape the terror of the moment, and the circumstances.
They were there, somewhere in the shadows. He was certain of it. But he was finding it harder and harder to stand still, not knowing when anyone would discover his whereabouts. He'd done none of the things he was supposed to do on this trip. When his cell phone didn't work, he should have dropped back and found a land line to call in his location. He should have faxed the office a copy of the list he was working off, so they'd be able to track him if he dropped out of sight. He shouldn't have been working alone, to begin with.
His body was weakening and he listed, almost stepping out of the circle.
Stand up straight, Fox! That's part of the discipline, son.
Mulder's head popped up. "Sir?" he whispered into the dark. Where had that voice come from? A sudden growl from the shadows told him one of them was waiting nearby for him to weaken.
You heard me, Fox! Stand up straight! And what did we say about exercising some restraint? And using good judgment? If you had done either of those things, you wouldn't be here now. . . ."
Mulder stood as straight and tall as he could manage and took a deep, calming breath. Common sense told him he was alone here but something else made him feel differently. Made him feel safe and protected in a circle of love. Or salt! Enough with the mushy, shit, Mulder!
A sound from upstairs captured his attention and a moment later the door was busted in. Frank Black came in, gun blazing. He shot one of the zombies in the head, taking him out. Another attacked Black and the other man lost his gun. But Mulder retrieved it quickly and shot another one in the head, immediately understanding that was the only way to kill it.
The third roared and rushed toward him and he aimed his gun at its head. "Click, click," it sounded, signaling an empty cartridge. Mulder knew their luck had run out when a shot rang out, blowing out a thick chunk out of the skull of the remaining monster. He looked up to see Scully, gun drawn, at the top of the stairs. He sank to his knees, shaking with relief and pain.
A little while later, Skinner took a call from Scully in his office. The paramedics were attempting to get Mulder into the back of their truck, under his vehement protest. He sat on the side of the gurney and they were trying to get him to lie down.
"My car is right there! Just bandage me up and let me drive myself home!"
"Sir, he's fine," she said, putting a hand over her other ear to block out the noise Mulder was making. "Significant blood loss. They need to clean the wound better to make sure it doesn't get infected. And he'll need a plastic surgeon to stitch it up, to minimize the potential for scarring." She glanced at the escalating battle near her. "If they can get him into the ambulance."
"Let me speak to him," Skinner growled.
Scully pulled the phone away from her ear, pressing her lips together. This didn't sound good for Mulder. She walked over to him and handed hm the phone. Mulder eyed her curiously and put it to his ear.
"Hel--" he began but was immediately cut off by the person on the other end of the phone. "Yes, sir. Y-yes, sir! I will, s-sir," he stammered, then he handed the cell phone to Scully and laid down on the stretcher, his eyes closed, a tight, slightly embarrassed look on his face.
The two paramedics exchanged shocked glances but they knew better than to lose the moment. They loaded the gurney into the back of the truck and headed for the hospital.
Scully put the phone back to her ear. "Sir, that was amazing," she said. "Now, there is one other miracle you could help me with tonight . . . "
Skinner agreed to do what he could and then he told her to call him from the hospital, when there was more news.
Fiona Barefoot's Home
Arlington, Virginia
12:30 a.m.
Walter Skinner entered the house and looked around for Fiona. She saw him as he entered and rushed over.
"I'm sorry, Fiona," he said immediately but she put a finger to his lips. "It's okay. I'm glad you're here now. How's Fox?"
"He's okay. Scully said they stitched up his wound and gave him some painkillers. They were about to release him when she called." He leaned down and gave her a kiss, his arms fitting naturally around her lean torso. "Happy New Year, Fi."
"Happy New Year to you too," she said, returning the kiss with ease.
"I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to change," he began to explain but she silenced him again.
"I wouldn't care if you showed up naked," she laughed. "Well. . . I would care, actually. I'd just have to send all these other people home!"
At that same moment, Scully was in the car driving Mulder back to his apartment when he suddenly asked her to make a strange turn.
"This isn't the way to your place, Mulder," she said curiously.
"I know. It's the way to Mrs. Barefoot's house. She invited us both to her party . . . ."
"Well, I know, Mulder. Skinner told me. But you're in no condition to be partying--"
"No, but we could just stop in for a few minutes, couldn't we? I . . . I kind of think I should . . . face the music tonight," he said slowly. Almost immediately he wanted to make light of his statement. "I mean, he wouldn't hit me in front of a houseful of witnesses, right?"
The realization of what he'd admitted almost admitted! to Scully set in and he felt himself flush. "I mean, I don't mean he'd really hit me but . . . you know what I mean!" Jeez, Mulder, how many painkillers did they give you anyway?
Scully bit her lip to keep from smiling. "I knew what you meant," she said. And I know what you really meant, too! She followed Mulder's directions and they were at Fiona's house about five minutes later. They rang the doorbell at 12:45 and Fiona answered it, breaking into a huge smile when she saw who was there.
From across the room, Skinner could see also who was at the front door. He'd taken off his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves a little earlier and now he was sitting on the arm of Fiona's couch, chatting with some of her friends. He rose but his relief quickly turned to anger at the younger man with his arm in a brand-spanking new sling and he took himself off to the kitchen for a refill. . . and a chance to cool down.
"Happy New Year, Mrs. Barefoot," Mulder said, leaning down to give her a kiss at the front door. The fact Skinner had removed himself from the room did not escape his notice.
Fiona smiled and gave him a warm hug, reaching up to give him a kiss on the cheek. "Call me Fiona, Fox," she whispered into his ear. "And Happy New Year to you too! And to you Dana!" She and Scully exchanged brief hugs then Fiona took their coats and ushered them into the house, toward the refreshments. "Please have something to eat. I know you've both had a trying day. And I'm guessing no dinner!"
They did as asked and Fiona immediately introduced them to some people, getting Scully involved in a conversation with a neighbor who was a medical doctor also. Fox sat down wearily and took the soda Fiona offered him. He thought he'd just sit there and wait until Skinner returned but his nerves got the best of him and he went to look for the other man.
He found him in the kitchen, refilling ice trays. "Hi," Mulder said tentatively as he walked into the room.
Skinner turned from the freezer, closing the door behind him. "Hi," he said succinctly. Mulder looked wiped out but healthy. His right arm was in a sling and there was a healthy size bandage on his upper arm. Inside the AD several emotions battled for preeminence but love and relief won. He took a few quick steps toward the younger agent.
Mulder misread his face and took a quick step back. "I'm h-hurt!" he sputtered.
A smile appeared on the AD's face but he continued his charge toward Mulder. "I know," he said quietly, pulling the other man into a big hug. "Thank God you're all right!"
Mulder nodded, as tears filled his eyes and a lump formed in his throat. "I-- I'm sorry," he whispered. "I know I should have called. And I should have had a back-up. . . "
"Shhh," Skinner told him, caressing the back of his head. "I'm just glad you're all right." He felt Mulder relax and swallow down the tears, a small sob escaping as he exhaled the breath he'd been holding for some time. They stayed like that for another minute, then Skinner pushed him back and spoke again. "We better get inside. Before Fiona starts to lose patience. We both missed the midnight celebration."
"Thanks," Mulder said as they turned to go. "For being so . . . understanding. I was afraid you'd be . . . " His relief was transparent.
"You're welcome, kid," Skinner said resolutely. "Beside, as you pointed out, you're hurt. Punishment can wait until you're all better."
Mulder's mouth dropped open as Skinner's arm settled down on his shoulder. The AD used his strength and the surprise to propel Fox out of the kitchen and back into the living room. Fiona came over and took the AD's other arm and Mulder simply collapsed onto the couch, leaning his head back and staring up at the ceiling in despair. A young woman with a tray approached him.
"Champagne?" she asked.
"Yes," Mulder said firmly reaching for it with his left hand. He took a quick look around the room and saw Scully was absorbed in conversation with someone he didn't know so he took a second glass and put it down on the coffee table in front of him. "Just keep them coming!"
The crowd was thinning an hour later when Scully tried to rouse Mulder from the couch. He'd slipped into a deep slumber some time before despite the crowd. The three glasses of champagne he'd managed to sneak in before Scully or Skinner noticed combined with the pain meds did the trick and now he was snoring lightly, head back and mouth slightly open.
"Mulder," Scully whispered as loudly as she dared, jostling his good arm to try to wake him.
Skinner came up behind her from where he'd been seeing some guests off at the front door with Fiona. "Don't worry about it, Scully," he said lightly. "I'll get him up and take him home with me."
"I guess that makes sense," she said remembering the kiss at the hospital and how much she wanted, no needed, to know what it meant. "It's just that . . . well, it'll wait, I guess." She went and got her coat from the closet and returned to wish the AD good night.
"Are you all right to drive yourself home, Scully?" he asked her as he helped her on with her coat. "I'm almost ready to go, as soon as I get Sleeping Beauty up. I could drop you off."
"Not necessary, sir," she replied hastily. "I didn't even have one drink--"
"Well, Mulder made up for the both of us, I think," he answered with a smile.
"I think it's the painkillers really. And the shock wearing off." Scully watched him sleep and sighed. "It was pretty close there. I still don't know for sure what was going on . . . ." She started for the door, Skinner in step beside her.
"Well, I'm certain we'll both get a long and very detailed explanation in Mulder's report," Skinner told her. "Happy New Year, Dana."
"Happy New Year, sir," she replied. "And thanks for helping to get Frank Black's daughter back for him. It was . . . the right end result." He nodded and she was startled when he continued to walk her to her car.
"Get any good Christmas presents, Scully?" he asked her suddenly as they stepped out into the cold night.
"Christmas presents?" she echoed, not sure what he was getting at. "Just the usual from my family. Slippers and a robe. A couple of sweaters . . . Why?"
Skinner sighed internally and shook his head. "No reason. Just making conversation. Get home safely, Scully."
She got in her car and Skinner watched her start it and pull away before heading back into the house. It occurred to him as he walked back into the house that Fox at 14 and 16 was a lot more sure of himself than Mulder at 39, at least when it came to these things. The subject of his thoughts was still out cold on the couch when he got inside and the sight brought a smile to his lips despite everything. This was the most stubborn, trying individual he'd ever met, bar none. And at the same time, one of the most charming, intelligent and fascinating people he'd ever come up against, too.
"Fox," he whispered affectionately. "What am I going to do with you? . . . . " He surveyed the young man sprawled on the couch and tried to decide how best to get him home. Fiona appeared beside him without warning and he looked up at her.
"I don't think getting him home is going to be easy," she said softly as though she were reading his mind. "And I have an extra bedroom. I just turned down the bed. Why don't you . . . both stay?"
Skinner felt a warmth grow inside as he watched her face. Her blue eyes were clear and limpid and there was a soft sureness to the invitation that made him smile.
"I'd like that," he said quietly. He'd been so tied up with since Mulder's return to adulthood, he'd thought Fiona might just take his absence as a sign he wasn't interested. But she was still here and now she was offering him more. That in itself was a miracle, he thought.
He had a time getting the barely conscious younger man up the stairs and into the extra bedroom and he was immensely grateful Fiona had convinced him not to try to muscle Fox home. He laid him down and took off Fox's shoes and socks and was working on his trousers when the young agent roused briefly.
"Dad?" he asked, opening his eyes.
Skinner knew immediately that, in his drunken, drugged stupor he was having trouble wrapping his mind reconciling his dual experiences. He didn't bother to correct him. "Yes?"
"I-- I didn't give her the bracelet yet," Fox said sadly.
"I know," Skinner smiled at him as he pushed him to the side and pulled the covers out from under him. He was down to his boxers and a tee-shirt and that would have to do for tonight.
"But . . . I kissed her," Fox added as a yawn spread over his face.
"You did?" Skinner blinked in surprise, then he smiled again. As a youngster, Fox was always at his most open and vulnerable just before bed. "Well. . . one small step for man. . . ."
"Yeah," the younger man agreed, not getting the good-natured humor in the AD's response. "It was . . . nice."
Skinner heard a noise behind him and saw Fiona at the doorway. She'd changed into a soft pink silk nightgown and robe and her glossy black hair hung loose over her shoulders. She was a sight to behold and Skinner suddenly felt a sense of longing, and need, he'd not experienced in a long time.
"I'll be right there," he said and she smiled and nodded before disappearing back into the hallway.
In the bed, Fox yawned again and his eyes began to flutter to a close again. "It's gonna be a good millennium, Dad."
Skinner couldn't help it, a chuckle rose in his throat and burst out. "Yeah," he said as he leaned down and kissed the sleeping younger man on the forehead. "I was hoping for a good year, son, but . . . I'll take the whole millennium! When it comes to the unknown future, I always put my faith in your instincts!"
THE END