Take 2 - Part 39
by Cadillac Red
Disclaimer: The characters of Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, Walter Skinner, et al belong to 1013 Productions and I and will make no money from their use.
Spoilers: Some references to X-files mythology episodes.
Setting: Sixth Season. Many details and characters come from previous stories I've written.
Rating: PG. Discipline, no slash.
Author's note: This series was inspired by Xanthe's story "Red" and is loosely related to an unfinished work by Mangst and Xanthe called "Reset". I appreciate their generous approval to go ahead with my version of the same scenario.
Summary: Skinner and his father finally tell Fox how 'the Persuader' got its name -- and its first introduction to the Skinner family history.
The Skinner Home
Danville, Pennsylvania
Saturday afternoon
"Oh, Fox, come in!" Teena Mulder said as she noticed her son standing at the doorway to the small study. She had just finished packing up her things and now Walter and Fox would drive her back to the airport for her flight home.
"I came to carry your bag down," he said, advancing into the room. He'd grown tall, almost full adult height. He was like a young colt now she mused, graceful at full gallop but a little awkward in the constraints of close quarters. Teena felt a lump of tears rise in her throat as she remembered him at this age before, so tentative, so . . . hurt. Now it seemed he was as he was meant to be, still feeling his way into adulthood but with a sense of belonging he'd never had before.
"Thank you, dear," she responded as she closed the weekend bag up. She gestured toward the rocking chair. "Have a seat while I check to make sure I haven't forgotten anything."
Fox turned a light pink and stammered. "Th-that's okay, I think I'll just stand."
Teena bit back a smile and turned away. Fox had apparently stepped out of line the night before and she suspected Walter Skinner had dealt with it the way he usually did. Now she was certain. But the closeness of their bond, and all the affection that surrounded Fox, made whatever discipline the AD meted out just another part of the father-son relationship they'd established during these past months. She had no cause to question the man's methods when she saw the polite, well-adjusted young man Fox had become.
"I was just looking at all the wonderful photos of you in this room and I guess I lost track of the time," she said, changing the subject.
"Yeah. Gram always has her camera loaded and ready for action!" He picked up a picture of him and Skinner with Andy and Brian. The boys were wearing baseball uniforms and smiles a mile wide. "This was the day I hit my first home run, in Nantucket. Well, it wouldn't have been more than a single if anyone on the field could catch but . . . "
"You've been happy, haven't you, Fox?" she asked him suddenly. She took a seat in the rocking chair and motioned for him to sit on the bed. He did and he wasn't too uncomfortable, she noted.
"Your Dad, I mean Walter, told me you might be a little confused about your first childhood," she said. "That you might think you were a bad kid, because our family wasn't as happy or . . . normal as the Skinners. And you think you might be responsible for that."
The boy chewed on his lower lip and stared at his Nikes. "I . . . didn't mean for him to tell you that--"
"No, I'm glad he told me, darling," she interrupted him. "Because it give me a chance to tell you it's not true. You were the best son I could have asked for. Smart and caring. Very responsible. You always looked out for Samantha--" Her voice broke but she shook it off. "The things that happened, they weren't your fault at all. You were . . . as much a victim as anyone. More than most of us. I can't really explain it all because . . . I don't really understand it fully myself. But you were the one . . . true joy in my life. I know I didn't always show it, and I never told you before. But you've never been anything but a joy to me, Fox. You're the one good thing I have to show for myself . . . ."
The boy looked at her, somewhat alarmed at the direction the conversation had taken. He had the sense her words held more meaning than he could understand presently.
Teena saw the expression on his face and knew she'd let her emotions run away with her. That happened all too often nowadays. Perhaps age, and a sense that the end was coming, made her less able to keep the secrets now.
She glanced at the notebook lying on the desktop and picked it up. It was 'the lesson book' Rachel Skinner had shown her. And it contained some contributions from Fox, both as an adult and as a child. She turned to one page that had amused and touched her.
"I think this is a good idea, this lesson book," she told the boy who was now looking a little embarrassed again. "I wish I had thought of it when you were young the first time. It's a lovely record of your growing up and learning to understand the world. I especially liked this one."
She put her glasses on and opened to a page that was headed Fox William Mulder, July 19, 1999. It read:
"It's not smart to punch someone who makes fun of your name. Because if they do that, it just means they're igorant and that's something that should make you feel sorry for them. So when that kid from the house down the street says my name is dum, I'll just laugh and tell him what my Dad told me to say like Are you some kind of expert on dum names? How much do you get paid for that? And anyway, my name's not dum. My Dad helped me find out about some famous people named Fox. Like Fox Connor was a General in the Army who was Eisenhower's best mentor and advicer. And so I won't punch that kid next time. Because my Dad says if I make that mistake again, I'll get spanked. So I won't."
Teena smiled to herself seeing that page again. Fox had always had a sense of dissatisfaction about his name. She was pleased Walter had helped him resolve it this time around. And his spelling had improved rapidly, too. She turned the page to the one she wanted to speak about.
"Fox William Mulder. August 27, 1999," Teena began to read aloud. "Here's something I learned today. When your father asks "Do I look stupid?", don't answer."
Fox turned a deeper shade of pink and gave her an embarrassed smile. "I had to come back and rewrite that one, actually," he said with an endearing grimace.
"Yes, I know," Teena laughed. "But you did a really good job the second time." She began to read again. "I usually think I know better than everyone else. And my Dad says that's okay, as long as I don't tell everyone all the time. Because sometimes I do know things that other people don't know. But other times, my Dad and the other grown-ups in the family know better because they have more experience. And since it's hard to tell who knows best all the time, I have to just trust my Dad because he would never let me do anything dangerous. Like riding my bike across a main highway, that's something I thought I could do. And I did it without getting hurt. But my Dad said it's an unnecessary risk and lots of kids have gotten hurt or killed doing it. So I won't do it any more. And if I think I know better next time, I'll just remember the spanking I got today and make a different decision. And the next time somebody says "Do I look stupid?" I'll just keep my opinion to myself. Because being disrespectful is another way to get a spanking."
Fox let out a long, deep breath. "I was a lot younger when I wrote that," he said.
"I know, dear," Teena said, reaching out to hold one of his hand. "But you hit on a very good point. That the grown-ups in your life, your Dad, me, don't want anything to happen to you. And so sometimes you just have to trust us to do what's best for you. Even if you think you know better. Do you understand, Fox?"
The boy looked at her, mutely. He was puzzled by the conversation even though, on the surface, it made all the sense in the world. Finally he shrugged. "Yeah. I guess so. I hope you didn't read all the stuff in that book, did you? 'Cause my Dad did a few pretty dumb things when he was a kid, too."
Teena laughed as she rose. "No, I only read the parts you wrote, Fox. But I'm glad I did. Or else I might not have known you have such a good sense of humor."
She handed him her weekend bag and headed out into the hallway.
Fox followed her, puzzled. "Did I say something funny?"
McLean, Virginia
Friday, December 3
8 p.m.
Fox, Skinner and Walter, sat in the family room after dinner. Mr. Skinner had come to Virginia to spend a week with them while his wife went to Chicago to help her daughter-in-law Eileen. Two of Andy and Eileen's kids had come down with chicken pox and Rachel immediately hopped on a plane to go help with the patient, Brian and Haley, and the baby who hadn't yet come down with anything. Which left Mr. Skinner at loose ends alone in the Danville house.
The timing couldn't have been better because the Assistant Director was heavily involved in planning for the Bureau's budget hearings which would take place before the end of the Congressional session. That meant twelve to fourteen hour days of preparation, something he'd routinely done before Fox moved in. Now, however, he was torn about how to uphold his end of two sets of responsibilities, his job and his commitment to the boy who was at another difficult stage in his second childhood.
Fox needed to leave the Wheatley Academy at the December break because he'd reached an age where he would have been out of high school. Going to college was a logical next step but the security concerns were a hurdle. And a school had to be chosen from among the many the area offered. Skinner had given it a lot of thought but he was not comfortable with sending the young man away to school. It just seemed too soon, and too fraught with potential problems.
So when Mr. Skinner readily accepted his invitation to come spend a week or two with them, he'd been relieved and pleased. Fox was also on a punishment tour following the speeding incident and having company around for him when he was home made it easier for the Assistant Director to focus his attention on his division's budget needs.
In fact, Fox should have headed to bed directly after dinner but the meal had been fun and carefree and the three of them had not stopped talking about college choices, sports and Skinner family history. So the AD decided not to be a stickler about the early bedtime part of the young man's punishment tonight. He felt Fox didn't get enough time to spend with his grandfather and didn't want to prematurely end one of them.
"Well, Foksik," his Dad was saying as Skinner entered the family room with two more bottles of beer. "That's a long story. But with another beer to whet my whistle, I think I might be able to remember it all." He accepted the bottle from his son and took a sip.
Skinner went to sit by the hearth. It was a chilly night and he'd started a fire earlier. Now it needed tending. "What story would that be, Dad?" he asked idly as he poked the logs and added a little more kindling.
"Fox was just asking me about the first time I put 'the Persuader' to use," Mr. Skinner said with a smile.
"What? I turn my back on you two for one minute and this is what happens?" Skinner replied with mock annoyance. "And Fox, I just remembered it's past your bedtime!"
"Oh, come on," the boy responded, picking up on his pretense. "I might die before I get to hear this story!"
"Only because I said I might kill you if you asked me about it again," Skinner laughed.
"I didn't ask you! I asked Gran!"
"He's got you there, son," Mr. Skinner weighed in. "And I think Fox is old enough to hear this story . . . ."
"I don't know, Dad," the AD responded, trying to appear serious. "I don't know if I'm ready for him know I'm not a perfect person. . . ."
"I already know that," Fox blurted out. Then his face reflected his concern as he thought better of the statement. He started to backpedal as fast as he could. "I mean, nobody's perfect right? Not even you. So how c-could you--" He let out a yelp when Skinner reached out a long muscled arm and pulled him onto the floor beside him, executing a wrestling move that ended in a perfect pin.
"All right, all right," Mr. Skinner interrupted. "I award that round to you, Walter. But I'm still gonna tell him the story."
Skinner released Fox with a quick tickle to his rib cage. "Okay, if you insist," he sighed. "But I'm gonna stay right here and correct you if you get any of it wrong!"
"How likely is it that I'll get it wrong, son?" Mr. Skinner asked as he settled back into the easy chair. "Remember, I am the only perfect person in the family. And should you forget, I have ways of reminding you!"
Skinner rose and took a seat on the sofa and watched Fox settled in beside him. Yoda jumped up on the other end of the couch, circled and then settled in with his head on Fox's thigh. Skinner had warned his Dad that Fox would raise this question and they'd decided together the story would be shared. And it had taken less than a day for Fox to wrangle an opportunity to ask the older man.
"Well, let's see. Where to begin," Mr. Skinner said as he took another sip of his beer. Skinner knew he was going to play this for all it was worth and sat back to watch. "I bought that strap when you were about fourteen, I think. In an antique store in Lancaster. I thought I'd hang it right in our living room so my kids would see it every day, kind of as a warning. But Rachel wouldn't go for that."
"Thank God," Skinner added with a chuckle.
His father shot him a sideways glance. "So I hung it in the woodshed. And it was there about two years, I think. Never had a reason to use it."
"The threat was more than enough," Skinner offered.
"Am I telling this story, or are you?" Mr. Skinner asked him, feigning indignation.
"Sorry. You're doing fine," his son responded. Fox smiled at the by-play between the two of them. It was hard to miss the fact it was good-natured and loving.
"Thank you. Well, now I think it was around the time the union was holding that big convention in Pittsburgh. I was shop steward then and I'd been elected to go on a trip to Japan, to see their factories and get a sense of whether they would be a threat in the future. And I knew immediately that they would. So I had to represent the plant and carry a hard message about not getting complacent after a few good years."
"Wow! You went to Japan?" Fox inquired enthusiastically. "I didn't know that."
"Well, I was a bit of an odd duck in the steel mill and the union, Foksik. Had a bit more . . . education and some unusual experiences and I just couldn't help sticking my nose into things. Trying to change things when I knew it was necessary. I saw the Japanese approach and knew we'd have to make some big changes in the future to stay competitive."
"You were always carrying the tough messages, weren't you, Dad?" Skinner said quietly. "I remember when the big strike happened in '59. You were the one who kept saying there had to be compromise everyone could live with--"
"Well, we had families to support. Principle is important but hungry children are the first imperative," his father said firmly. "But the Skinners made it through those times okay, better than a lot of the others. Your mother deserves most of the credit for that. I think that's when she took to raising those chickens. And bought that cow!"
"Yes, that's right! The vegetable garden got so large, we could have lived off it for years. And then came the pig and the goat and the chickens. And that Thanksgiving turkey we almost didn't butcher because Jeremy wouldn't stop crying--"
"Oh, my, that was a nightmare. What was that turkey's name? Oh, yes, Clyde. When it came time to butcher Clyde, the entire family threatened to become vegetarians! Just to stop Jeremy's crying!"
"You had all those animals?" Fox asked, distracted from the main story. "I never knew that."
"Oh, yeah," Skinner laughed. "That would be the 'Great Skinner Family Farming Experiment." Things were hard with Dad not working. And Mom thought it would help if we raised our own food. Not just fruits and vegetables. She came from a farm in a rural part of Russia.. So she had a lot of experience with it. But she didn't realize we'd 'adopt' every single animal she bought! Joe tried to keep that pig in his bedroom one night when it was cold--"
"A pig!" Fox exclaimed.
"Well, it was just a baby pig when we got it. The god-awful smell, not to mention the squealing, tipped my Mom off to where it had gotten to real quick," Skinner replied. "Then it was Joe's turn to squeal when she got after him with her hairbrush!"
"I didn't even know you had any pets," Fox said with wonder as he stroked the top of Yoda's head. "Didn't you just think about getting a dog?"
"We had several dogs," Mr. Skinner answered. "Walter brought home every stray he ever found. Got to the point dogs all over the county considered us a stopping point on the canine underground railroad!"
"That's not true," the AD countered. "We had four or five all told but I only brought two home. A mix named Barney that I found wandering and nearly starved to death. He lived to be about twelve. And then Shadow, he was the runt in Pete Cooper's dog's litter. He got hit by a truck when I was in Vietnam, right, Dad?"
The older man nodded seriously. "Yes. I remember Andy nearly cried himself sick. For some reason Shadow glued himself to Andy when you left and they were crossing the highway when it happened. Just an accident but he got it all mixed up in his head, thought you'd never come home if you knew Shadow was dead."
The Assistant Director wanted to lighten the mood. Fox had grown too quiet. "Of course, Andy didn't have a real feel for dogs or cats. He had hamsters and goldfish. And that snake--"
"He had a snake?" Fox asked, exactly as his father had intended. "You're kidding!"
"No, I'm not kidding. He never had a pet you could go out and play with, our Andy. Don't ask me why," Skinner answered with a smile.
"Remember what he named the snake?" Mr. Skinner asked, then he and his son responded together.
"Snake!" they chorused, setting Fox off into a round of giggling.
"That's the dumbest name I ever heard," he gasped between fits of laughter.
When Fox calmed down, the fact the conversation had taken a turn was not lost on him. "But . . . what about 'the Persuader?" he asked again.
"Oh, right," Walter, Sr. answered. "Where was I? Things were pretty tough for a few years there, most of the kids' childhood, actually. Between the kids and the strikes and a few economic downturns, we never seemed to get ahead of ourselves. So I went down to Pittsburgh and your grandmother came with me. Thought I might need the company because I was going to be holding an unpopular position at a time when things seemed to be going good. That we needed to make change if the American steel industry was going to survive."
"We left Walter in charge," he continued. "We were only going to be gone a couple of days. And he was fifteen, almost sixteen, I think. Which meant the others were . . . ."
"Jean was almost fourteen. Joe was eleven. Andy was nine and Jeremy was seven, Dad. I remember it like it was yesterday."
"Right, I expect you do," his father replied. "Well, we told the kids to stay close to the house. It was summertime and there was no school. We asked the neighbors to check in on them but then Anya Kosarov's mother got ill and they had to go be with her. So they all were on their own. And you did fine, until you decided to head into town. Against our strict instructions."
"Well, I'd like to offer one piece of information in my defense. They were driving me crazy! Four of them cooped up in the house and on the property. With nothing to do--"
"We had a yard full of animals! Swings. A river to swim in--" his father countered, laughing.
"And Jean wanted to go to the movies with her friends. I said no, we weren't allowed to leave the house. So then she stopped talking to me. Which should have been a good thing but I guess I wasn't thinking clearly!" Skinner's eyes twinkled when he said that.
"Well, sometimes you have to take an unpopular position when you're in charge, son," his father responded with a smile. "And that's a lesson we all learn in time. But if you don't mind, I'd like to finish this story for Fox tonight. Which won't happen if you don't let me tell it."
Skinner nodded and his father continued. "So anyway. Walter's friend Pete Cooper already had his driver's license. And he came by and offered to take them all into town. And I think he said that pretty young Tess Patterson was going to be there. At least, that's how I remember it." He looked at his son for confirmation.
"Am I allowed to talk now?" he asked pointedly. "Well, then, yes. Tess was going to be at the movies . . . and I had a major crush on Tess."
Fox was drinking it all in. The idea of his father having a crush on someone was intriguing in itself. But he was more interested in the rule-breaking. "That's a big one, Dad," he said. "Obedience is one of the very important rules."
"Yes it is, kid," Skinner said. "And how do you think I learned that important lesson, huh?"
"Exactly. So, they all went into town," Mr. Skinner continued. "And everyone pretty much ran wild at that point--"
"A lot of stuff happened between the time we got into town and you discovered everyone 'running wild,' Dad," Skinner interjected. "I think I have to tell this part of the story."
"Be my guest."
"Thank you. Well, we got to town and next thing I know, Jean's crying. Because this boy she wanted to meet at the movies is with someone else. And she wouldn't stop crying. And Tess was there, waiting for me to go into the movies with her. Only I was hoping Jean would watch the boys while I was in the movies with Tess and now Jean can't stop crying. She wasn't even hearing me when I asked her to watch the boys."
"And Coop decides to ask her to see the movie with him. So she stops crying but now she goes into the movies with Coop and I still don't have anyone to watch the boys."
"Coop was not the smartest of your friends, Walter," Mr. Skinner said.
"No kidding, Dad," he answered. "He had a good heart though. So, the movie is about to start, and I had to buy a ticket for everyone, me, Tess, and Joe, Andy and Jeremy. Took every cent I had. I don't recall what the movie was but it was definitely over Andy and Jeremy's head. I had to lie to the lady at the movies and tell them my parents were already inside because she didn't think they were old enough to see it without their parents."
"Oh, that's another very important rule you broke, Dad," Fox whistled. He was enjoying this story more and more.
"Thanks for sharing, Fox," Skinner told him with a smile. "So we go into the movies and the next thing I know, Andy and Jeremy are out in the lobby playing cops and robbers, I think. Or cowboys and Indians. Whatever. They had these two cap guns that they were firing at each other and the manager actually stopped the film to ask someone who was with them to come and get them. About halfway through the movie I finally decided to give up and go home with them. I figured Tess would never speak to me again--"
"You dated her all through high school, didn't you, Walter?" Mr. Skinner interrupted. "Whatever happened to her anyway?"
"She's living in Nevada, just outside Las Vegas. Married, a couple of kids. Coincidentally, her oldest is applying to the FBI Academy's next class--"
"Can we get on with this story?" Fox exclaimed. "Jeez. I still haven't heard anything about anybody getting it with that strap! Other than me, that is."
The two Skinner men burst out laughing. "Okay, kid. Calm down. I'm getting to that," the AD laughed. He extended his legs and rested them on the wood coffee table. "Where was I anyway?"
"You decided to go home. Then what?" Fox said impatiently.
"Right. So I decided to go home but now I couldn't find Jean. She was in the movies with Coop but I couldn't locate them. And then I realized Joe was gone."
"Where'd he go?" Fox asked anxiously.
"Well I didn't know it at the time, but he decided the movie was boring and went to the library. To get a couple of books. Because it was boring at the house and he always liked to read. So he just went. But he didn't tell me so I didn't have a clue. I started running all over town looking for him. Thank God it's a fairly small place. I finally found him at the library and I left Andy and Jeremy with him there and told them not to leave. Then I went back to the movies to see if I could get Jean. Only while I was gone, Joe realized he didn't have a library card with him. And Andy and Jeremy both found books they wanted too. So the three of them decided to sneak the books out of the library, with full intentions of returning them. They weren't stealing them, they just wanted to take them home that day."
"Mind you, Mrs. Popov would have let them take those books without a library card if they'd just told her. But they decided to pull 'a heist' instead," Mr. Skinner interjected with a knowing nod.
"A 'heist,' Dad?" his son asked, nearly crying from holding back the laugh that wanted to come. "Is that the technical term?"
"Are you going to finish your part of the story?" Mr. Skinner harrumphed but he was nearly collapsed with laughter too.
Fox was not far away from a fit of laughter either but he was still anxious to hear the rest of the main story. "So what happened next?" he pleaded.
"Well, I finally found Jean and she wouldn't come with me because the movie wasn't over. And Coop wanted to stay with her, so he gave me his keys so I could drive the boys home first. I didn't have my license but I knew how to drive--"
"And how was it you knew how to drive before you had a license anyway?" his father asked suddenly. "I don't think I ever heard this story."
"I'll tell it to you some time, Dad. If you promise not to hit me now. We're well past the statute of limitations on that crime . . . "
"There is no statute of limitations in this family, son," Mr. Skinner said ominously. There was a twinkle in his eye but it was not easy to spot.
Skinner was a little upended by the comment and he decided to focus everyone's attention back on the narrative. "Well then I got Coop's car and went to pick up the boys. The librarian had figured out that they snuck out with the books and she had chased them into the parking lot. Just as my folks were driving down the main street. They were stunned to see their three youngest kids being held by the librarian and the local sheriff for stealing books. They got out and started trying to figure out what was going on. Just as I pulled into the parking lot in Coop's car."
"Wow," Fox breathed. "That's a whole lot of trouble to get in at once!"
"Yes, it is," Mr. Skinner confirmed his assessment. "Well, when we got home, I sent Walter to the woodshed and when I got there, lo and behold, he was angry at me! Said the whole thing was my fault for leaving him in charge of the other kids. When he didn't want that responsibility to begin with! And then he started blaming the other kids for misbehaving. And I said, 'That's enough! You don't always get a vote on whether you take up a responsibility. Sometimes it just falls to you. And you don't get to do a half-assed job because you never asked for the responsibility to begin with!" And I told him to go get the strop off the hook."
Skinner looked over at Fox's face and saw he was completely focused on what the older man was saying. His mouth was open as he listened and the AD was suddenly certain it was time for him to hear this story.
"And he refused," Mr. Skinner added.
"You did?" Fox blurted out. He swiveled his head to look at Skinner, a look of shock on his face. The AD merely nodded ruefully. But he pulled the boy closer to his side, wrapping an arm around his shoulders as Fox settled back in to listen to the rest of the tale.
"He did," Walter, Sr. said as he took the final sip of beer out of his bottle. "I couldn't believe it myself. I told him to go get it again and he refused again. So I went and got it myself. And I told him to take down his pants and then I strapped his butt but good. Made a real impression on the boy, if I do say so myself. And I hung the strop up and asked him to go get it again."
"Again?" Fox asked incredulously. This story was sounding more and more unlikely, considering it was his father they were talking about.
"Uh-huh. And he refused. Again. So I got it myself, gave him another few licks and hung it up again. And then I asked him to get it for me. And he said no again."
"Really?" Fox's voice was tremulous now and Skinner pulled him tighter. If he didn't know better, the AD would have thought the kid was getting worried.
"Yep," Mr. Skinner answered looking straight at his son. "You were always the most infuriatingly stubborn of my kids." He turned his attention back to Fox. "So I got it myself and strapped him again. Put it back again. And then I told him to go get it. He was crying hard by then and he said to me, 'how long are you gonna keep doing this?' And I said, 'until you to understand that my word is the law, son. However long it takes to persuade you.' I was close to caving in at that point--"
"You're kidding," Skinner exclaimed despite himself. Mr. Skinner nodded.
"It's the truth, son," he sighed. "I was seriously doubting myself at that point. And then suddenly you came around." He looked at Fox and continued. "He went over and took the strop off the hook. Then he came back and handed it to me and said, "Okay, I've been persuaded." And that, Fox, is how 'the Persuader' got its name. And its first use!"
Fox looked at Skinner, his eyes questioning a story that sounded unbelievable to a young man who began promising anything and everything that came to his mind after the first couple of licks with that strop.
"I was . . . hard-headed at that age," Skinner said simply.
"You say that as though something's changed," his father interrupted with a snort of laughter.
Skinner rolled his eyes, then he pulled Fox into the protective circle of both his arms. "So now you know. And I'll tell you what I told Joe and Andy and everyone else who's had occasion to visit that woodshed over the years. When you're there, if anybody eve tells you to 'go get the strop,' he paused for effect. "Go. . get . . it."
"I'd run like the wind to get it," Fox answered, nodding his head vigorously.
"That's what I wanted to hear," Skinner replied. smiling and tousling the boy's hair. He remembered a similar incident with an adult Mulder a few years earlier and hoped this lesson really had sunk in without Fox having to test his, or his grandfather's mettle. He turned back to his father and exhaled forcefully. "For some reason I can remember dinner that night as if it was yesterday. Mom set a place up on the counter for me, because I couldn't sit down. And I was already in my pajamas 'cause you sent me right to bed when we got back to the house. All the other kids were kind of subdued, watching me out of the corner of their eyes, wondering--"
Mr. Skinner snorted. "You have a convenient memory, son," he said breezily. "They were in their pajamas, too. And they were subdued because, while we were down in the woodshed, your Mom was applying the back of her hairbrush to all their bottoms. You all went to bed right after supper that night!"
"I don't think I knew-- No, I'm sure I didn't know that! I guess I was too focused on my own . . . situation," Skinner laughed.
"And then your Mom and I broke out a bottle of vodka and had a couple of drinks, wondering if we were raising a bunch of juvenile delinquents," Mr. Skinner finished with a chuckle. "Guess that turned out to be a needless worry!"
"Yeah," the AD mused. "I suppose every parent has moments when they wonder but . . . " He turned to Fox. "I think you ought to be getting to bed now. We've got a long day tomorrow and Uncle Joe will be here first thing in the morning."
Fox nodded again and rose. He went over to Walter, Sr. and gave him a hug. Then he returned to Skinner and did the same, allowing the AD to give him a quick kiss on the forehead. "You're getting so big," the man said. "I'd say you're less than an inch from your full height. If we can just get a little more meat on your bones. . . " He gave Fox a swat on the butt and sent him off to his bedroom.
"He's a fine young man, son," his father said quietly after they'd heard his footsteps on the floorboards upstairs. "You should be very proud of him."
"I am," Skinner said, feeling his eyes mist up as he spoke. "Sometimes I miss the two-year-old, believe it or not! And the four-year-old. And the eight-year-old . . . !"
"I understand that," Mr. Skinner responded with a knowing look. "I feel the same way about all of you kids, too!"
A little while later, Skinner wandered into Fox's bedroom and found him lost in a book. The young man looked up and smiled sheepishly, closed it and put the book on the nightstand. Skinner was surprised to see it was one of his own books, a history of the Civil War. It was a special interest of the AD's and Fox must have taken it off his desk.
"I hope you don't mind," the boy said. "I . . . thought this looked interesting." He was wearing a pair of navy blue pajama bottoms and an old USMC tee shirt of Skinner's, one that had grown just a little too small for the older man years ago.
"I don't mind at all," Skinner said gently. He sat down on the bed next to Fox. The boy was still on a punishment tour and he knew a bedtime spanking was part of the deal. Without prompting, the kid rose and let himself be guided into position over his father's knees.
The AD tugged at his pajama bottoms and they fell to pool around Fox's ankles. "What's this spanking for, son?"
"To remind me," the boy answered automatically. "That I'm being punished. And why. . . "
Skinner gave him a sharp slap right across the fleshiest part of his butt. "And that would be. . . ?"
"Because of the speeding!" Fox exclaimed. "Ouch! And . . . and endangering myself. . . Oww! And other people!"
Skinner smiled to himself and issued another stinging smack. The boy's backside was pinking up but he knew he was doing little damage. "And don't forget the last thing, Fox," he said as he brought his hand down again.
"Ahh! Oh, yeah, and for breaking the law!"
The AD nodded, satisfied with the recitation of sins. It was important for Fox to understand all the reasons why he was being punished. And when it came to the tough lessons, repetition seemed to be the way he learned best. He pulled the boy's pajamas back up and let him sink to his knees. Then Skinner gathered him up into the traditional hug. This part of the ritual was as important as the spanking he reflected as Fox quickly calmed down. "You okay?" he asked quietly.
There was a moment of silence then a muffled voice replied into his shoulder. "Yeah," he said, taking a deep breath and releasing it forcefully.
"Good," the man answered briskly and he gently guided the boy up and into the bed. Fox burrowed under the covers and Skinner smoothed them down, then sat on the edge of the mattress. He reached out and pushed Fox's thick hair off his forehead and smiled at him. "Something's on your mind, though, right?"
Fox looked a little embarrassed for a moment, then he nodded. "I . . . I was wondering," he said softly. "Do you ever worry about me? About me growing up to be, you know, someone you don't like? Someone who's a jerk?"
Skinner laughed. "No," he said with authority. "I don't. Unlike my Dad, I have the luxury of knowing you grow up to be someone pretty terrific."
Fox colored slightly and dropped his eyes. "I -- are you sure? I mean, sometimes I wonder if I was . . . kind of a jerk. . . "
His voice trailed off.
Skinner wrinkled his brow in confusion. "Why would you think that?"
"Because . . . . Well, because my Mom sometimes acts like she didn't like me so much before. And like she had to worry about me a lot. And . . . I read some of the stuff I wrote in 'the Lesson Book' before, when I was grown up. And I think sometimes I did things that made you mad. . . . And you had to punish me then, too." The words had come out as barely more than a whisper and the young man never raised his eyes from where they were glued to his fidgeting hands the whole time he spoke.
Skinner pressed his lips together, buying a moment to consider how to answer. He hadn't realized Fox had been investigating himself as an adult. Rabid curiosity was a trait he shared with his adult counterpart.
"Well, first of all, I think your mother loves you. Now, before, always, Fox. You and she have had some . . . difficulties over the years because things were complicated. But you were always a wonderful son to her. And she was always a good mother to you. It's just you were both . . . strong personalities." He sighed, trying to figure out how to explain the rest. "And as for you and me, we were friends. And more. You were like a younger brother to me. Or the son I was never lucky enough to have. Until now. Even before you were a kid again, Fox. This hasn't changed any of that."
Fox lifted his eyes and gave Skinner a questioning look that bespoke the depth of his hope that the man's words were true. "But you . . . you had to sp-spank me sometimes, didn't you? 'Cause I did things that made you mad. Things I should have known better about . . . ."
The AD bit down on his lower lip, forcing back the smile that wanted to come. He sensed Fox would not want to think he was laughing at this question. "Well, kid," he said slowly, "that's true. But different people learn life lessons at different times. You heard my Dad say I needed to learn about responsibility. And . . and obedience. Well, so did you. Only I learned at sixteen and you learned at 36, that's all." (And 37, and 38. . . !)
"How come it took me so long to learn?"
Now the AD had to smile. "Not because you were dumb," he answered fervently. "More because you had a tough life, pal. Lots of things took your parents' attention away from you and you kind of grew up without them in a lot of ways. And you grew up pretty well, considering."
Fox nodded his head slowly. "I was thinking . . . when I start college, I might not want to major in psychology," he said, suddenly veering off in another direction. "I mean, if I'm gonna remember everything I learned the first time anyway, I might as well use this time to study something else, right?"
Skinner was impressed by the clean logic of that statement. It was Mulder at his best, striking out into the unknown and trusting that his instincts would guide him. And a little bit of Fox, seeking the AD's approval and agreement.
"I think you ought to follow your heart, kid," he said gently, laying a hand on Fox's chest. "Life will take you where you need to go. After all, it brought you to me."
Antietam Civil War Memorial Battlefield
Sharpsburg, Maryland
December 4, 1999
A soft breeze blew through the rolling fields where the bloodiest battle of the Civil War was fought in September of 1862. It was the most costly day in US history with more than twenty-three thousand casualties in less than a 24-hour period, a day 'when the romance of war was over,' as one noted scholar had framed it. On this December afternoon though, it was warm for the season and the scene was bucolic. The field was overrun with volunteers, placing a candle in a sand-filled paper bag every couple of feet over the entire battleground. One for every soldier who'd died here that day.
The Skinner brothers, their father and Fox were among the volunteers. It was something the AD had done several times before, a way to honor the tens of thousands of young men who perished on this site. At dusk, and the candles, each and every one, would be lit by a team of volunteers and a bugler would sound taps. The candles would burn for hours, long into the night, to mark the passing of a soul on this battlefield on late summer day so long ago.
The sky was gray, with large dark clouds hovering overhead. Not rain clouds, his father had pointed out earlier but they seemed fitting to the occasion, casting a gray pall over the day. Despite the large number of volunteers, there was an eerie solemnity to the place, everyone going about their duties as if they understood the peace that dwelled here had been hard won and should not be disturbed.
"Dad," Fox whispered as the two of them worked their way down a row, lighting the candles. Dusk was about to turn to night and the ceremony would start directly after. "This is . . . about the coolest thing I've ever seen. I'm really glad you let me come with you."
Skinner smiled. He'd thought of asking Mulder a couple of times. But the older version of Fox had come to believe he'd died in a previous life on another bloody battlefield like this one, in Tennessee. And while Skinner had a hard time believing that, he'd come to accept a lot of stranger things Mulder believed. And wanted to spare the younger agent any pain this might cause. But it was good to be able to take a 19-year-old Fox along on this trip.
"You know, you're about the age of the average soldier who died here, kid," he told the boy as they finished lighting the candles in their row. He looked around and spotted his father and Joe on the hill behind them. "Some of them had been fighting for a year or more before this battle."
"It's hard to imagine anyone my age, or younger, going to war, Dad," the young man responded with awe. "I know you did it but . . . I don't know if I could."
Skinner put an arm around the boy and pulled him in, giving him a hug of reassurance. "And I hope to God you never have to, kid," he said fervently, knowing this boy faced challenges even greater. "But whatever your life holds in the future, I know you'll be up to it. It's just the way you are."
Joe and Walter, Sr. approached them and they all walked over to the memorial area, where the ceremony would begin. Thousands of people were waiting for it to begin, then the drive would be opened and they would make the several mile journey through the battlefield, flanked on both sides by the candles the volunteers had just spent an hour lighting. But the Skinner men would walk a good part of the way, choosing to give that effort to honor those who'd perished here.
There was no sun and the muted light of the gray afternoon cast its final weak shadows and disappeared behind the horizon. Seemingly out of nowhere, the lonely strains of a bugle sounded, playing a haunting rendition of "Taps." Walter, Sr., and his namesake were both veterans and the instinctively snapped to attention and saluted, while Joe bowed his head and placed a hand over his heart. Fox watched it all curiously, drinking in every sensation, his face a wondrous study of the emotions going on beneath the surface. Skinner watched him out of the corner of his eye and smiled inwardly.
No applause followed the bugler's effort, though. If anything, the quiet deepened and slowly everyone departed. Some to their cars to take the drive. Others chose to walk the paths throughout the battlefield and that's the route the Skinners took. About twenty minutes later, Joe spoke for all of them.
"I'm a historian," he said quietly, "but I don't know if I've ever had a full appreciation of the immensity . . . the vast numbers of people who died here before tonight. Thanks for asking me to come along, Walt."
"I wish Mike could have come with you," his brother answered.
"Next year, I'm insisting. He had made a commitment already so I didn't press it. But I think this has been a good thing for Fox, Walt. People don't appreciate . . . hell, they don't even know about the sacrifices people have made for this country. People can't be allowed to forget."
"Well, whoever wants to make plans for next year, count me in, " Mr. Skinner replied from behind them. He and Fox were bringing up the rear. "I wouldn't miss this, now that I've seen it."
"How are you doing with this walking, Dad?" the AD asked him. "Do you want to go back to the car? We could drive the rest of the way. . . ."
"No, son," the elder Skinner replied with authority. "Twenty-three thousand men gave their lives here so that this country would survive. Least I can do is walk a few miles to let them know their sacrifice was important."
The votive candles were in glasses set in sand-filled bags to keep them weighted down. But occasionally one flared up and consumed the paper bag. Off to the side, one burst into flame and all four of them stopped to watch it burn.
"When that happens, they say that's a soul who died here," Skinner told the others solemnly, "just saying thank you for remembering."
Next to him Fox was staring at the flaming candle. "Wow," he breathed. "I wonder who he was. And if he was about my age?"
All three Skinner men bit back smiles as Fox walked on ahead of them, his curiosity guiding him on.
"And just how old do we think that is, Walt?" Joe leaned in and whispered to his brother.
"Your guess is as good as mine," Skinner replied, realizing with certainty that Fox was now older than his nephew Mike. How much older he didn't know, but he was certain he was right. He was struck to the core by a surge of emotion that seemed to come from nowhere and overwhelm him without warning. His voice dropped and he shook his head. "God, Joe," he said quietly as he watched the tall, graceful figure wander among the candles under an ink black sky. "It's all going so fast, isn't it? It's all going way too fast."
End of Chapter 39