Family Traditions
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.
Spoilers: None to speak of.
Setting: Seventh Season.
Rating: PG. Discipline, no slash.
Summary: Mulder and Skinner continue working out the details of their relationship now that the younger man is an adult again but Fox's recent second childhood complicates things.
Six months earlier
Crystal City, Virginia
Walter Skinner sat in the living room, closely scrutinizing pages of data he needed to digest before his morning management conference. The executive level personnel in the FBI met monthly for breakfast and he was set to address the assembly tomorrow regarding two high-profile cases that involved the Bureau itself and threatened the tenuous public perception of the agency. As usual, they'd both been turned over to Skinner to handle. Despite the fact he was now responsible for raising a child named Fox who was somewhere between three and four years old at the moment. Exactly where on that spectrum was hard to pinpoint.
Skinner had been working late every night for the past week, preparing for the meeting. But tonight Fox's babysitter, Casey, had a personal commitment and so the AD had been home at five o'clock. He'd fixed a meal and played with the four-year-old for a little while, long enough to fulfill the boy's need for attention and assuage his own guilt about how little time he'd been able to spend with Fox in recent days.
Then he parked Fox in front of the TV with a "Land Before Time" video and returned to his work. He concentrating deeply a warm breath on his hand pulled his attention away from his reading. Skinner lowered the paperwork he was holding and saw Fox staring at him, eyes wide with curiosity.
"Hi," the boy whispered.
"Hi, yourself," the AD whispered back.
"Are you finished yet?" The child's voice was just barely audible.
"Why are we whispering?" Skinner asked, keeping the same tone.
Two large, hazel eyes blinked at him. "Cuz I'm not s'posed to disturb you," the boy whispered.
The AD couldn't help it, he laughed out loud and put his papers aside. "Come here, you," he chuckled, placing the boy in his lap. "You never disturb me, honey. If you ever need me, you just tell me, okay? I want your promise on that."
Fox laughed as Skinner tickled his rib cage. "Okay. Can I have a cookie?"
"Oh, that's what this was all about, huh?" Skinner laughed. "Yes. You can have a cookie. One cookie, okay, Fox?" He set the boy down on the floor.
"Okay," Fox answered, already running into the kitchen.
Skinner watched him go, a giant smile on his face. It had never occurred to him that he would love this the way he did. Having this child to come home to added depth and color and texture to his life in a way he could never have conceived, no matter how many nieces and nephews he had, or how much he loved each and every one of them. He began to pick up his work again, then he realized Fox would be in bed and asleep inside of half an hour. The papers could wait. He stood and headed for the kitchen.
The little boy had pulled a chair over to the counter, climbed onto the seat and taken the top off the cookie jar. The Winnie the Pooh jar had been a gift from the AD's mother, along with the cookies inside. "Cowboy cookies," she called them, oatmeal with nuts and chocolate chips. A favorite of the Skinner children, one generation after another. And Fox was no exception.
He had a cookie in his hand. . . . And a second one in the other hand. Skinner stopped and leaned against the doorframe, waiting for the boy to notice him. Fox knelt back down on the seat of the chair, then he backed off and turned.
"Oh!" he exclaimed when he caught sight of his observer. "I-I-" Skinner could see the wheels in his head turning.
"I thought I said one cookie," the AD asked, biting the inside of his mouth to keep a smile from appearing.
Fox furrowed his brow momentarily, then his face brightened. "I got one for you!" he said cheerily.
"Oh, you did," Skinner chuckled. "Well, that's what I thought must have happened." He walked over to the child and lifted the cookie out of his left hand. "Thank you, Fox."
Skinner couldn't help but notice the fleeting look of consternation that crossed the boy's face as he realized he was down to one cookie again.
"These are best with a glass of cold milk," the man continued, going to the refrigerator and taking out the carton. He took a glass out of a cabinet, located a straw-top cup for Fox, and filled them both up. Then he pulled out a chair and sat down. Fox scrambled into his lap, eager to have a little more one-on-one time with the AD. In a minute the two of them were giggling over a second cookie each and a secret about Casey and her boyfriend that Fox had been bursting to share.
"He has a pony tail," Fox confided. "And he rides a motorcycle. And . . . he knows all about dinosaurs," Fox told him. Skinner had met Casey's beau once and that description fit the paleontology student perfectly. Only for Skinner, none of the above were as exciting as they obviously were to a four-year-old.
"Did you show him your dinosaurs?" he asked Fox. The child had acquired a menagerie of plastic dinosaurs, given to him by his many aunts and uncles and cousins.
"Yeah. He said the longneck is a good guy. And T-Rex is a bad guy," Fox explained.
Skinner wondered if the paleontologist had put it exactly that way. "What makes one a good guy and one a bad guy?"
"The bad guys have sharp teeth and they eat people," Fox said matter-of-factly. "And the good guys don't. They eat grass and leaves and stuff."
"Oh, they're vegetarians," Skinner smiled. Now he understood.
But Fox looked stricken. "Well, they don't eat broccoli or nothin'," he said, feeling compelled to clarify that point.
Skinner laughed wholeheartedly. The little boy abhorred broccoli. It was typical that he thought leaves and grass were acceptable fare but anything remotely like a green vegetable was not even fit for an extinct dinosaur.
The AD had cooked meat loaf, mashed potatoes, corn and broccoli for dinner earlier. When Fox's small portion of the green vegetable disappeared from his plate while the AD got himself coffee, he'd been surprised and a little suspicious. It took only a few seconds to realize it was now sitting at the bottom of his glass of milk.
"Anything you want to tell me?" he'd asked as he took a seat and put his napkin in his lap. Fox's innocent expression was priceless. The man eyed the milk glass and Fox's face fell.
"Well. . . ," he said, trying to buy time. Then his face brightened. His Dad was always happy to hear about new things he'd learned. "Know what I found out today? You can't hide broccoli in a glass of milk!"
Skinner thought again how much this child had changed his life. It was something for which he was not prepared but he thanked God every day for it. He gave Fox his bath and put him to bed a little while later. The AD read to him for a few minutes but the boy's eyes fluttered to a close before he'd finished the book so Skinner tucked him in and leaned down to kiss him on the forehead before turning out the light and leaving the room. . . .
Sunday evening
March 19
McLean, Virginia
Skinner sat in the den of the McLean house, lost in memories. He had officially moved back into the house this weekend, after the closing on Thursday afternoon. A team of moving men packed the contents of the Crystal City apartment and brought it over here but then Fox and he had spent a fourteen hour day on Saturday and again on Sunday getting things squared away. Joe and Andy had helped on Saturday, as had Skinner's nephews Doug and Mike. But the AD was somewhat meticulous, wanting everything in its correct place. Having lived there before, Fox and he knew what all the correct places were so just the two of them finished up today.
The younger man was now dozing lightly on the couch adjacent to the love seat on which Skinner rested. He was sprawled, legs akimbo, one hand resting lightly on his chest in a posture the AD had often seen from a much younger version of the special agent. They'd had a pizza delivered earlier and a beer each and that had been enough to put Mulder into a near-coma an hour ago.
Now Skinner watched him, wondering whether the young man planned to stay the night. Skinner had given up his Crystal City apartment but Fox still had his place in Alexandria. And, even though he'd asked if he could have his old bedroom back, Fox had only moved in the things that he kept at Skinner's apartment. Enough clothes to last a week or so, some books and tapes and a few other personal items.
It was getting late, and the AD realized if Fox was going home, he'd have to get him moving soon. Skinner wanted to leave the decision to him but he decided he'd probably insist on driving the younger man, given his state of exhaustion. He leaned over and placed a hand on Mulder's shoulder.
"Fox," he said, gently shaking him.
"Wha-what?" Fox stammered, coming awake and trying to get his bearings. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong. It's getting late. And I didn't think you'd want to spend the night on the couch."
Fox looked around, a startled expression on his face. Then it seemed to click in his mind. "Oh, yeah," he said coming to a seated position. "I-I didn't realize I fell asleep."
"You've been out a good hour," Skinner chuckled. "I guess you weren't paying attention."
Mulder gave him a sheepish grin, then he stood and stretched. "Well, I'm gonna turn in," he said, yawning. He walked toward the archway that led to the kitchen and the rest of the house. "Good night. See you in the morning."
Skinner paused a moment before answering. He hadn't realized how much he hoped Fox would decide to stay. "I'll send Yoda up in a few minutes," he said when he knew he could speak again. "He needs another outing, I think."
He rose and called the dog back from following Fox upstairs. Then he took Fox's car keys down from the hook in the kitchen where their two sets of keys were neatly hanging and opened the kitchen door that led out to the garage. He hit the light and the garage door opener as he went out. Fox's car was still sitting in the driveway and Skinner wanted to move it into the double garage while the dog took his last walk around the property.
As he did he found himself recalling something that happened the day before.
Yesterday morning, he and Fox and Skinner's brothers had finished clearing out the apartment. They'd decided to stop for a late breakfast before following the moving van over to McLean. Mike and Doug were waiting for the movers at the new place and the two younger Skinners had a dozen donuts to fuel them through the morning. Skinner chose a place near his old building that he knew served hearty fare quickly and he and Joe met Fox and Andy there after closing up the apartment.
"Hi, hon," a pleasant middle-aged waitress said as she spotted the AD at the table. "Long time no see."
"Hello," he answered, a little embarrassed. "I guess it has been a while. It's not a comment on the food, I promise."
"Well, I'll tell "Chef Louie," our short-order cook," she replied with a laugh. "Where's your little guy? I haven't seen him in months."
She had no idea the 39-year-old man sitting next to Skinner was the 'little guy' of whom she spoke but everyone at the table did and Fox colored immediately.
The waitress looked around the table at the other men. "He has the cutest little boy in the world. A real charmer. Smart as a whip, too! All the girls here love Fox." She turned back to Skinner. "Where is he today?"
Skinner looked a little tongue-tied but he got his wits about him momentarily. "Well, actually, we've moved. Over to McLean. So we don't get back this way often."
"Oh, that's great, though. A little boy needs a backyard," she nodded.
"And a dog," Andy added, nodding enthusiastically. His comment earned a glare from both Skinner and Mulder.
But the waitress agreed immediately, then took their orders and headed for the kitchen.
"That was strange," Joe said, once she was out of earshot. "How often does that happen?"
"Well, moving to McLean is probably a good idea, considering how many people in this area knew Fox when he was little. It worked out well, actually, moving as often as we did when it was all happening. Not too many people saw him enough to realize it was the same kid."
"I'm amazed more people didn't notice," Joe responded. "But I guess it's an indication of how little attention most people pay to children who aren't their own."
"You're probably right, Joe," Andy chimed in. "Hey, Fox. Too bad you didn't manage to keep that cute, charming thing working for ya, huh?"
Fox blushed again and pressed his lips together, wanting this conversation to end. He was still not completely comfortable with everything that had happened to him over the last year.
"Cranky this morning, huh?"
Fox shot him a sideways look. "I am NOT cranky," he said, then he realized where this was going.
"I know what 'cranky' looks like," Andy answered immediately.
"Well it doesn't look like me," the three Skinner brothers finished in unison, echoing a comment little Fox had made over the summer that immediately worked its way into the family lore.
Mulder raised his gaze to the ceiling, annoyed at himself for walking right into the trap. Joe reached out and clapped him on the back.
"Lighten up," Joe told him. "Nobody said being part of this family was a bed of roses, kid!"
Skinner finished pulling the car into the garage, taking time to pick up the trash that was sitting on the front seat. A large, empty coffee-cup, an empty bottle of iced tea and a box of something. It turned out to be 'No-Doz,' and there were only a couple of tablets left. Skinner guessed Mulder must have picked them up some time when he needed to stay awake for a late-night drive and he quickly put the box in the glove compartment for future use. Then he got out of the car and wandered back out to the driveway.
He wondered whether Fox was completely comfortable with all that had happened to him in recent months. With the fact he was part of the Skinner family. And a real son to the AD, no matter who had done the biological honors. He gave all the outward appearance of it. In fact, of late the younger agent had been as calm and focused as the Assistant Director had ever seen him. A model FBI agent at work, a model son and nephew and grandson in his personal life.
He'd been everywhere the Skinner family needed him in recent weeks. Moving the lawn furniture up from the basement in Danville and helping the elder Skinners prepare their garden for spring planting.
"Gran shouldn't be doing this any more," Fox had told Skinner on the phone from Danville. The AD had been on the west coast for a meeting and had tried and failed to talk his father into waiting until he could be there. "And if we tried to get him to wait until you were home next week, he would have started himself."
Fox had been spending a lot of time at Andy and Eileen's, helping them get the new house settled. Watching the kids while Andy and his wife ran errands. Seeing Fox baby-sit was an experience even Scully had indicated she'd like a chance to see.
When Mulder was in Chicago on business recently, he let Scully fly home and spent an evening at Northwestern University where Jean's daughter Kelly and Joe's daughter Kathy were studying He'd taken both girls to dinner. It had delayed his flight back and he didn't arrive in Washington until 2 a.m., then had to be at a meeting with the Deputy Director at 8 a.m. the next morning. The AD and Scully expected him to be late, but he showed up polished and ready to go at 7:45, to everyone's surprise. And proceeded to impress the DD with a detailed analysis of the case he'd been sent to Chicago to investigate. Skinner could only guess he'd spent the night preparing it instead of sleeping.
Of late, Fox had been near-perfect. But the older man wondered if he was pushing himself too hard. And why. It's one of the reasons he was so glad Fox had decided to stay there tonight. His paternal instincts told him the younger man needed some looking after. If he'd allow it.
Skinner whistled for the dog and Yoda came scooting around the side of the house and into the garage. The AD followed him, closing the garage door behind him then entering the house and locking the door. He made his usual security circuit and realized it had been 'usual' up until the day last December when Fox suddenly aged twenty years and became an adult again. Somehow the old patterns from their interim in this house were returning without effort. It was comforting in a way.
He checked the lock on the back door, set the house alarm and headed up the front stairs. Yoda was curled up outside Fox's door which was cracked open a bit. Skinner opened the door wider and the dog scurried in, jumping up on the foot of Fox's bed and settling down in his usual spot. Despite the AD's best efforts, he'd never been able to convince the puppy, or the little boy, that the dog couldn't sleep with him.
The urge to give in to another habit rose but he restrained himself. A pair of sneakers were sitting in the middle of the floor but Skinner didn't let himself go pick them up and put them where they belonged. This was Fox's room, and he was an adult now. Capable of making his own decisions about whether to put things away in his own room. And the AD wanted him to think of this room as his own.
"Sir?" Fox called from the bed.
Skinner had been convinced he was asleep. And he silently noted the 'sir' instead of 'dad.' Fox went back and forth between the two now and that was okay. The AD wanted him to be comfortable, that was all the mattered.
"Yeah?"
"I-I just want to say I'm glad you bought the house," Fox answered, and a yawn nearly drowned out the end of the sentence.
Skinner smiled from the doorway. "Me, too."
Fox yawned again.
"You're overtired," Skinner said. "You've been driving yourself too hard lately. Why don't you take a day off tomorrow? You don't have anything on your calendar that's pressing, do you?"
"Scully'll be disappointed if I don't show up," Fox said with a weary smile. "She counts on me to keep things interesting."
"We all count on you for that," the AD chuckled. "But you should take a day off. You've got plenty of vacation time coming. And you could use the rest."
Fox's eyes were closing and he yawned again. "I'll see. I should be okay after a good night's sleep," he answered as he drifted off.
Skinner watched him sink into sleep and silently closed the door to Fox's bedroom. He thought Fox needed a day off but he'd see how things looked in the morning.
But Fox was up bright and early the next morning. When the AD reached the kitchen, a pot of coffee was already brewing and there were fresh bagels in a bag on the counter.
"How early were you up?" he asked Fox when he saw him emerge from the hall bathroom a few minutes later.
"I took a run," Mulder answered as he toweled his hair dry. "I did the circuit that runs past the bagel shop. I didn't think you'd mind!"
"I don't mind at all. How are you feeling?"
"Fine. I want to get in early, though. I have to leave a little early this afternoon. I promised Andy I'd go to Parents Night with Eileen this evening because Andy had to be in LA. Brian was upset that he couldn't make it so I offered to stand in for him."
Skinner had known Andy was flying out to the West Coast yesterday evening. And he had overheard Andy telling Fox the details for this evening but he hadn't put it all together until now.
"Well, just don't push yourself, Fox," Skinner told him as he cut a bagel and prepared it. "You've been burning the candle at both ends for some time now."
Fox grinned as he watched the AD chomp down on an onion bagel with cream cheese. "Good, huh?" he asked slyly.
"Very good. Not good for my waistline or my cholesterol," Skinner said with a satisfied smile. "Which means I'm enjoying it all the more!"
"Well, you gotta let your hair down once in a while," Fox said as he headed for the door. Then he turned and put up his hands in a defensive posture. "Oh. Sorry."
Skinner managed to keep a straight face until the young man was gone, then he smiled to himself. It was good to have Fox home, for whatever time he wanted to spend here. Suddenly the AD knew he'd only ever thought of the place as being home for the two of them. And that's what had been in the back of his mind when he bought it.
The Wheatley Academy
That evening
Brian raced around the auditorium with two classmates, playing a game of hide-and-seek in and around the theater seats. Eileen had motioned for him to slow down twice and he'd complied both times. But then his judgment got the better of him when the other boys began again and now Fox could see Eileen was hitting the end of her patience.
"Whoa!" he told the child, grabbing him around the waist as he ran past. "If your Mom has to tell you one more time, I don't want to know how much hot water you'll be in."
Brian laughed as Mulder tickled his belly, then enveloped him in a big hug. "You were great tonight, Bri," he said. The little boy had had a short speech to deliver during the play tonight and he'd done it flawlessly. Andy would have been proud.
"Thanks, Uncle Fox," Brian giggled. "I like it here. Want to see what I made in art class?"
Mulder indicated he'd love to see whatever it was and Brian took his hand and led him out of the auditorium. Eileen was in conversation with Fiona Barefoot and two other people so he just waved to let her know they were going for a walk then let Brian pull him along.
"The art classroom is this way," Brian told him importantly.
Mulder knew exactly where it was. Only a few months ago, he'd been a student at this very school, a fact that seemed to fly right over Brian's head. In fact, even though little Fox and Brian had been peers a short while before, he and Haley had taken the sudden adulthood of their former playmate in stride. In fact, they seemed to have forgotten all about it. Mulder had not forgotten though. His mind raced back to the Fourth of July, when he and Brian had been on the same baseball team. They'd both collected giant hugs from their Dads at the end of a game in which Fox hit his first home-run. And eaten their fill of hot dogs and corn on the cob. And marveled at the display of fireworks the Danville fire department put on.
Only the younger grades were having their Parents Night tonight. Some of the older kids had volunteered to help usher people around the school and man some of the exhibits the children made for their parents. Brian ran ahead past a trio of teenage girls, eager to get to the art room. Mulder lost sight of him for a moment behind the girls . . . then he was stopped dead in his tracks. One of the teenagers was Marie-Claire Montreaux, the first girl on whom an adolescent Fox had had a crush last year.
"Uncle Fox!" Brian called from the other end of the hallway.
Marie-Claire stopped talking to her friends and looked around at the sound of his name. Mulder quickly turned to the wall and pretended to be getting a drink of water from a fountain there. He watched her out of the corner of his eye but she saw only a grown man, not the boy of whom she'd been so fond. She resumed giggling with her friends when Jenny began teasing her about hoping "Fox " was back.
"I do not hope for heem to come back," Marie-Claire answered primly in an accent that sent Mulder's mind racing backward. Then she giggled too. "Well, not verry much!"
Mulder stood up when it was safe and watched her walk to the end of the hallway and stop to talk to a couple of adults there. His throat was tight with a feeling he wasn't quite able to pinpoint and he turned away quickly.
"Uncle Fox!" Brian called impatiently from a door down the hall. "You're a slowpoke tonight!"
Mulder nodded and then he strode purposefully down the hall toward the boy. Wishing he'd gotten to go a little slower when it counted.
McLean, Virginia
10:13 p.m.
Walter Skinner entered the house and was greeted by an ecstatic Yoda. Which immediately made him wonder where Fox was. The AD had had a working dinner with the Director tonight and he'd told the younger man this morning he expected to be late. He found a message from Fox on the answering machine.
"I've got a few things to do tonight and we didn't get out of the thing of Wheatley until late. So I'm gonna stay at my place. I'll . . . I'll see you tomorrow," it said.
Skinner went to delete the message but Fox's voice rose out of the machine again. "G-good night," it said. The AD frowned at Mulder's tone of voice. He sounded tired. And something else but the man couldn't pinpoint it. He sighed and headed for the kitchen to get Yoda his dinner.
The phone rang a minute later and he picked it up, hoping it was Fox. "'Lo," he said.
"Walter, it's me," Fiona answered. "Did you just get in?"
"Yeah, late dinner unfortunately. How'd Parents Night go?" He found himself oddly sad at the fact he'd missed it. In Fox's short stay at Wheatley, Skinner had been surprised at how much he enjoyed attending events of this nature with the boy.
"Fine, thanks. As usual!. I guess you probably know Fox was with Eileen," she told him. "Is he home yet?"
"No, he's staying at his own place tonight," the AD said as he put Yoda's bowl of food on the floor.
"Oh. Well, he looked tired. And a little overwhelmed when I saw him. I just wanted to make sure he was okay. He . . . ran into Marie-Claire tonight. I was behind him in the hallway. He didn't speak to her but I think it rocked him a bit."
Skinner blew out the breath he'd been holding unconsciously. "Yeah. I imagine that would. Sometimes I wonder how he handles it as well as he does."
"Sometimes I wonder how both of you handled it as well as you did," she said softly. "I'll let you go. I know you probably want to check on Fox."
They made plans to have dinner later in the week and disconnected. Skinner picked up the phone, intending to call Fox. Then he remembered how tired the voice on the message on the answering machine had sounded, and he put the phone back down. If Fox was asleep, the last thing he needed was to be woken with a ringing phone. And the AD telling him to get some rest.
He stared at the phone for a moment, hoping it would tell him what to do. But no advice was forthcoming so he headed upstairs wearily, vowing to check in with Fox first thing in the morning.
Back at the Hoover building, Mulder was at his desk, reading some e-mail that had been forwarded to him over the past few months from a sometimes source. Nothing about it was pressing but he had a sudden need to bury himself in his work.
His life had been so full of other things lately, family commitments with the AD, and Andy and Eileen,, and helping the elder Skinners around their place in Danville, he'd fallen behind in his reading. Not that most of this ever amounted to anything but before he'd always read and catalogued everything.
He got up and got himself another cup of coffee. It was old and had been sitting in the pot for hours so it was strong and bitter. Exactly what he needed to get him through the long night ahead of him.
At 2 a.m., he left the building and headed to Alexandria. With a few hours sleep and a shower, he'd be good to go again.
In McLean the next morning, Skinner arose earlier than usual, not having slept as well as he would have liked. He let the dog out and showered, shaved and dressed before calling Yoda back in. They had installed a dog door in the garage where Yoda stayed during the day so it wasn't really necessary but it was a habit he and Fox had developed during the months they'd lived there before, when Yoda was just a puppy. He left the house much earlier than normal and drove to Fox's apartment in Alexandria.
He knocked on Mulder's door some twenty minutes later. No one answered and Skinner knocked again, this time louder. "Fox?" he called.
This time he was greeted by mumbling inside and then the sound of Mulder banging his shin on the coffee table as he stumbled off the couch and over to the door. "Sir?" Mulder asked as the door swung open. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong," Skinner replied. "I just wanted to make sure you're okay." He waited a moment but Mulder didn't respond appropriately. "Can I come in?"
Fox looked confused by the question at first and Skinner wondered whether he'd taken a pill to sleep the night before. Or a couple of drinks. Or whether the exhaustion that had been creeping up on the younger man had finally overwhelmed him.
"Fox? Are you all right?"
"What? Yeah, I'm fine! I'm . . . fine. I just didn't . . . sleep too much last night, I guess," Mulder answered finally, stepping aside to let the AD in. "I had some work to do but the copier jammed-"
"You went back to work last night? After the thing at Wheatley?" Skinner cut him off.
"Well, just-just-just for a little while," he stammered, not sure why he felt like he had to minimize that fact. "I just dropped in, really. . . on the way home.
Skinner didn't bother to point out the Hoover building was decidedly not 'on the way home' from the Wheatley Academy in Alexandria to Fox's apartment on the other side of Alexandria. "Fox, you've been pushing yourself too hard. I think you ought to take a few days off-"
"No, I'm fine, really. I just wanted to check up on some research I requested. For a case that Agent Carney's working on. It was just a favor and it didn't take that long. . . ."
Skinner knew Mulder had been active in helping out Carney and Agent Delaney and several other agents of late. As people got to know him, and appreciate the depth and breadth of his analytical skills, he'd been called on more to consult on bureau cases outside the X-Files jurisdiction. Skinner was pleased to see him getting more into the mainstream but not at the expense of his health.
He eyed the blanket and pillow on the couch, and the television set that had probably been on all night. This was typical Mulder but not often since the AD had stepped in as a surrogate parent to the younger man. Part of Skinner wanted to call him on it, make him promise to sleep in his bed, and shut off the TV at night so his mind and body could rest undisturbed. But the man standing before him with sleep in his eyes was an adult, capable of making some choices for himself. Skinner held his tongue and went to the kitchen to fix them both a quick breakfast before he had to head into DC himself.
But Mulder's kitchen yielded nothing that would make a healthy breakfast. Or even a non-lethal one. There was an old box of cereal that had seen the best days of its shelf life, some moldy bread and a carton of milk that the AD didn't even try to put down the sink. He wrapped it in plastic and walked it out to the garbage chute instead.
Mulder had stepped out of the shower and come into the room, a towel wrapped around his waist. He looked better now than he had a few minutes before. "Get dressed quick and I'll go down to the corner for coffee and something to eat, okay?" Skinner said.
"You don't have to do that-"
"I know. I'm doing it anyway. I'll be back in ten minutes."
They had a fast breakfast together in companionable silence but Fox seemed a little uneasy. On the way out of the building, he suddenly stopped as though he had to get something said before it was too late.
"I'm okay," he said quickly. "Really. I'm . . . okay."
"I know you're okay," Skinner told him lightly. "I just wanted to make sure you got a good breakfast."
Mulder smiled as though he didn't quite believe it. "I . . . know. I just don't want you to worry about me. I'm fine."
"Okay," the AD said, nodding. Then he began walking toward his car. "Don't be late, Agent Mulder." He was a little uneasy as he left but he was trying to let Fox set the tone and the pace. The young man had lost a lot in his life recently and Skinner didn't want to pressure him unnecessarily.
Both men took their own vehicles to work. They met up again at a meeting later in the day and the AD was shocked to notice how thin Mulder had gotten. Somehow it had escaped his notice in the morning. Then the AD realized realized that Fox was wearing his suit jacket during breakfast. At this afternoon's meeting, he was wearing only a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up. And the shirt hung off him in a way it didn't used to.
Mulder was engrossed in presenting his findings on the case on which he was assisting Ed Carney. His facts and analysis were right on point and provided a theory no one else had developed. But the AD found himself thinking like a father, wondering whether Fox was eating enough. He was immediately embarrassed at the lapse and shook it off, turning the full focus of his attention to the information being presented.
"This looked like just an Internet scam at first but Agent Delaney found a pattern that no one else picked up," Mulder said, throwing a spotlight on Delaney. The young agent blushed at the sudden recognition. "On closer examination, it turned out to be related to terrorist activity the Bureau's been tracking in the anti-terrorism unit. There's no doubt that they're using this to fund their activities-"
"Who is using it, Agent Mulder?" Skinner interrupted him. He wanted to reestablish his role in the room, in his own mind as much as in the other's eyes.
"The 'People of The Right Way,' sir," he responded immediately. "Sorry. I meant to say that. They're a right-wing, white supremacist group."
"I'm familiar with them, Agent," Skinner said slowly. Then he whistled. "We've been trying to figure out where they get their funding for some time. It looks like you've all found the Achilles heel we needed. I'd like your reports as soon as possible. And I want to alert the Director and the AG to this break. Thank you all."
He looked at Agents Delaney and Carney and nodded. "There will be commendations for both of you," he said. Then he looked at Mulder and he had to wrestle the feeling of pride that arose. "And you too, Agent Mulder. Good work, all of you."
The next few days flew in a blur of activity and by week's end, there were arrests made and property confiscated. It had all gone like clockwork, Skinner knew. And the FBI was receiving kudos for its investigation, for which he knew Mulder and Delaney deserved credit, and it's swift resolution for which he and Agent Carney were responsible. It had been a good week and the Bureau needed it.
Skinner looked at his watch at 8:00 on Friday night and silently berated himself for having lost track of the time. He was supposed to be having dinner with Fiona, if she hadn't already eaten. He called her and found she had not and in fact had something waiting at her place.
"You've got to be exhausted, Walter," Fiona said softly. "After the week you've had. I'll grill some fish and make a salad. I've got a bottle of wine chilling. And if you're real good, well, I give a great massage, if I do say so myself.
Skinner's eyes twinkled as he began rolling down the sleeves of his dress shirt. "Oh, I can be very good," he chuckled. "I'll be happy to demonstrate, Fi. . . ."
"That's what I was hoping for. . . ."
The Skinner Home
Danville, Pennsylvania
Saturday morning
"Hello?" Rachel Skinner answered the phone.
"Hi, Mom," her oldest son responded. "How are you this morning?"
"Fine, dear," she said, smiling. "It's a beautiful Spring day here. The crocuses are blooming already. Are you coming up?"
"I may be a little later than I expected. I . . . got a late start this morning. . . ."
Rachel's smile widened. "Say hello to Fiona for me, honey." She swore she could hear him blush through the phone.
"How did you. . . ?"
"You're the one that got us this 'caller ID' thing, Walter! And I can't thank you enough!"
Skinner cleared his throat, then he paused while someone spoke to him in the background. "Fiona says hi, too."
Rachel laughed at his obvious discomfort and she could hear Fiona giggling somewhere in the distance.
Skinner sighed with resignation. "Why is it all the women in my life handle these things better than me?"
"Walter, don't take this the wrong way," his mother replied knowingly. "Almost everyone handles these things better than you."
"Thanks, Mom."
"I've never lied to you before, dear. I'm not going to start now!"
He had to smile. "Well, anyway. I'll be heading up there as soon as I can track down Fox-"
"Oh, Fox is already here," she cut him off. "He and Yoda arrived around midnight. I thought you knew-"
"No, I didn't. I thought he was going to drive up with me today."
"Well, he changed his mind last night. Surprised us, too. He said he didn't want to take a chance on Dad starting the yard work before you and he got here."
Skinner pressed his lips together. This bothered him because he'd seen Mulder was beyond exhaustion yesterday afternoon and told him to get a good night's rest. And that he, Skinner, would drive the next day so he could get some more rest during the car ride.
"I think it's a reaction to his mother's death," Rachel was continuing. "I think he's . . . a little afraid of losing anyone else, dear. You know, like it's his job to make sure your Dad doesn't do anything more strenuous than supervising the Spring planting."
Skinner considered what she was saying and had to admit that was a plausible explanation. And grief took all sorts of forms, and came out in all kinds of different ways. Fox had been a ubiquitous presence with all of his family in recent weeks. Whenever somebody needed an extra hand, or a babysitter or just a visit. "I guess you're right. He's been a ball of energy of late. Like when he was little and had too much sugar. . . . " He chuckled. "I should be there by two. . . ."
Rachel had just hung the phone up a few minutes later when the back door opened and Fox walked in. He was carrying a bag from the local bakery in one hand, and his wallet and car keys in the other.
"Well, I've never seen that many varieties of tomato plants," he laughed, giving Rachel a kiss on the cheek. "Not to mention the cucumbers. And we picked up two skids of the impatiens plants you wanted, too. Pink, white and red, just like you asked. Oh, and here are the rolls for lunch. Mrs. Karaganoff says hello, by the way. And she wants to know if you're planning to 'pickle' this year. . . ."
Rachel smiled at him. He jumped from one subject to the next, his words tumbling over each other. "Well, I've 'pickled' every year since 1951! I guess I'll manage to do it again! By the way, Walter just called-"
Her words grabbed Mulder's attention immediately and he looked over at her quickly. He looked worried, she thought.
"Oh. Was he . . . mad?"
Rachel looked at him for a full moment before replying. One question answered. He knew he had been expected to wait for Walter. "Well, no, he wasn't angry," she answered slowly. "Just surprised. He thought you were going to drive up here together."
Fox nodded. He wondered whether she was protecting him from the truth. He laid his wallet and car keys on the counter and turned to her, hoping to get a little better picture of what to expect. "What time is he going to be here?"
"Around two, he said. He 'got a late start-"
Mulder grinned broadly. "How is Fiona?"
Rachel swatted him on the butt good-naturedly. "You will have to ask him that. I am not a gossip!"
Fox turned sideways to make sure she couldn't smack him again, then he sidled back toward the door. "I think I hear Gran calling me . . . ."
Rachel watched him go, then she picked up the bag of rolls he'd left on the countertop. She accidentally swiped it past the wallet and keys and sent them both tumbling to the floor. She stooped to pick them up and saw Fox's wallet was open. There were several Skinner family pictures in it. One was a shot of Andy's three kids, Brian, Haley and Griffin. It was a portrait her daughter-in-law, Eileen, had gotten at a local photography studio in Chicago before they moved.
A second photo was of Walter and Fox. Rachel had snapped that one herself, on a hot summer day in Nantucket. Fox and Brian's sand castle had just won first prize in their age group and little Fox had flung himself into his Dad's arms in jubilation. The smile on Walter's face pretty much said it all.
She felt a little guilty but she flipped through to two more pictures. One was of Walter, Fox, Joe and Andy, taken at a family event. She realized it was Doug's wedding from the black tie they were all wearing. They had their jackets off and looked like the three men had had a few drinks. But it was nice to see them all looking happy and relaxed. Walter had an arm around Fox's shoulder and another around Andy's and Joe was sitting in a chair in front of them. She felt a rush of pride that made her eyes swim for a moment. They were all good men, people of whom she was immensely proud.
The next photo was of Walter and Fox at a baseball game. They were both wearing New York Yankee caps. Walter stood in back of a 16-year-old Fox, with both arms wrapped around the boy's shoulders. It looked like it was a chilly night but they both had smiles a mile wide. Whoever had taken the photo had done a good job of catching father and son in a natural way.
Rachel sighed and closed Fox's wallet up. There were more pictures but she knew she was prying and that didn't feel right. She placed it back on the counter with his keys and went back to her housework. But she kept thinking about Fox. Something was up with him, she was certain. He was suffering and the mother in her knew had to do something about that.
As usual, Fox had come with laundry and Rachel carried his things upstairs to the study that doubled as his room when he was in Danville. She'd folded them all neatly and now she placed everything on the day-bed for Fox to put away. She noticed he'd moved a photograph down off a shelf and put it on the table next to the bed. Rachel picked it up and smiled.
It was a photo she'd taken last summer, when Fox was no more than two. He'd thrown a tantrum and Walter had carried him out of the house, wanting to spare his parents the noise and aggravation. As if they hadn't seen it all before, starting with Walter himself and carrying through to their numerous grandchildren.
Walter and Fox had fallen asleep in the hammock in the yard and she'd snuck out to take the photograph. The little boy rested peacefully on his father's chest. One of Walter's arms was draped over the little boy's back, holding him securely in place. It was one of Rachel's favorite pictures of all. And she knew immediately Fox felt the same. That's why he'd moved it.
Another piece of information clicked into place in her mind but it still didn't provide a complete picture. She was still not certain what was bothering Fox but she vowed she would be, before the weekend was over.
Before Skinner arrived, the work crew had already made a good dent on the vegetable garden. Joe and Mike had gotten there before noon, with Doug and Oliver not far behind them. Then Jean and Nora pulled into the driveway. The local little league held a bake sale each year when the season began, to defray the cost for kids whose families were struggling. And even though the Skinners no longer had kids in little league, the women carried on the annual tradition of donating home-made goodies.
Jean and Nora did it out of the goodness of their hearts. Rachel participated each year because, when times had been bad for the Skinner family, their boys got to play anyway and she was eternally grateful to the town for that.
They were making a couple of lemon poundcakes and a Boston cream pie. And about twelve dozen 'cowboy cookies,' always a hit at the sale each year. The oatmeal were chock full of chocolate chips and pecans, and they were a family and town favorite for many years.
"Are you making any cookies for us this year?" Mike asked on one of his water runs into the kitchen. "Or do we have to go buy them at the bake sale again?"
Rachel and Jean exchanged amused glances as Nora chased him out of the kitchen with a wooden spoon. "If you keep disturbing us, you'll be lucky if I LET you buy any!"
He had just reached the driveway with a pitcher of water when Skinner arrived. The AD waved to everyone and pulled his car in behind Mulder's.
"Hi, Uncle Walt!" Mike greeted him. Skinner got out of the car and enveloped the boy in a big hug, being careful not to make him drop the pitcher. Then he gave him a kiss on either cheek, a Russian tradition the family held onto through everything.
Doug came over next and got the same greeting. "How's married life treating you, Dougie?" the AD kidded him as he pulled the younger man into a bear hug and kissed him.
"Pretty good," Doug grinned. "I was hoping Emily could be here to get the low-down on making Gram's best desserts but she had to go to Philadelphia. Her old college roommate's having a baby. She's sorry to miss you, Uncle Walter."
"Well, tell her hi for me-"
"I see you waited till most of the work was done to arrive," Joe interrupted them. Skinner gave him a mock glare, then laughed despite himself.
"It was a good plan, don't you think?" He and Joe exchanged hugs and Oliver and Walter Sr. followed suit. Skinner looked around for Fox next and saw he was hanging back. That worried him a little and he nonchalantly mentioned that he'd run inside and change his clothes so he could help. The others dispersed and he finally caught Fox's eye.
"I-I know I said I'd w--wait to drive up with you," Fox stammered momentarily. "But I-"
"It's okay," Skinner interjected immediately. "As long as you were all right to drive-"
"I was! I-I got a big cup of coffee from 7-11, just in case. And I took a couple of No-Doze. I wasn't in any danger of falling asleep while I was driving last night!"
Skinner chuckled. "With all that caffeine, I'm not sure you're in any danger of falling asleep this month." He laid a hand on Mulder's shoulder. "I'm not questioning your judgment, Fox. I trust you to do the right thing. I just wish you wouldn't push yourself so hard."
Mulder gave him a tight smile that spoke of relief. And something else the AD couldn't quite decipher. They were interrupted by Rachel, calling them from the porch.
"Walter! I'm glad you're here. You're just in time for lunch. Fox, why don't you get everyone else and come on in?"
They had a lunch of cold cuts on fresh bread and rolls, along with home-made potato salad and macaroni salad. There were pickled cucumber as well. And pitchers of fresh lemonade for everyone. They finished up with cowboy cookies for dessert, then the work crew got up to go back outside. Skinner planned to change quickly and join them but Nora stopped him first.
"Walter, we pinned down a date for Jean and Oliver and Joe and I to come to D.C. In May. I called and got tickets for a concert at the Kennedy Center. And we thought we'd do dinner Saturday night at that Italian place you like so much-"
"Canastelli's? Sure. It's always good and I'm sure I can get a big table in the back."
Fox had wandered back in and he joined the conversation. "Canastellis's is a good choice. The food is always great and they don't rush you."
"Well, good!" Eileen laughed. "We don't get to do these dinners as often as we used to. And Jean and Oliver couldn't join us for the last one because of Doug's wedding. " She gave Fox the date and he nodded that he'd be there.
"Walter, will you call them and see if they can take a reservation for ten?" Nora added, turning back to Walter. Before he could answer, Fox interrupted them again.
"Who's the tenth?" he asked curiously. He immediately knew Joe, Jean and Andy and their spouses were in the group. And concluded they'd counted the AD and Fiona. Mulder made nine.
"I'm sorry, Fox! I forgot to tell you," Nora responded. "Eileen called Dana and asked her to join us. We haven't gotten a chance to see much of her lately."
Fox nodded. "Oh. That'll be good," he said. Then he picked up the sweatshirt he'd taken off before lunch and headed back outside, pulling it over his head as he walked.
Nora turned back to Walter and saw he was eyeing her strangely. She put her hands on her hips and glared at him.
"Look how long it took me to get you and Fiona together," she said hotly. "I'm old now, Walt. I don't have that kind of time!"
Skinner smiled and got up from his chair, shaking his head. "I didn't say anything," he protested good-naturedly. He stooped to give his sister-in-law a kiss on the cheek as he went by. Nora smiled at his retreating form. She'd always been very fond of Joe's oldest brother. Never more so than now.
The Skinner Home
7:03 p.m.
The rest of the family had gone home, leaving Rachel and Walter Sr., their son and Mulder alone. Now Mulder was sitting next to the fireplace, poking the log he'd put there a moment ago. He was like a cat on a hot tin roof tonight, alighting briefly, then up and pacing again. Something was bothering him but Skinner couldn't begin to guess what it was.
He'd been quiet most of the day, seemingly lost in thought. When Joe and Mike and Doug were there, he'd hung around the edges of conversations, not really getting himself involved. They all let him be, trying to be respectful of his feelings. It was clear to all of them he was still dealing with the grief of his recent losses.
Tonight, though, he just couldn't seem to sit still. In a moment, he was up again.
"I was thinking-" he said suddenly. "I-Maybe I'll head home tonight. I've got a few things to do-"
"Absolutely not," Skinner interrupted him. "You've been working all day and you drove late into the night yesterday. I don't think you should do it again tonight."
"He's right, Foksik," Rachel echoed quietly. Her husband was asleep across the room and she didn't want to wake him. "You were lucky you didn't have an accident last night, driving alone at that hour-"
"I'm fine! And I can just pop a couple of "No-Doz-" he interrupted her only to be interrupted himself by the AD.
"How many of those have you take lately, kid?" he asked, trying to keep the conversation casual. He'd been worried when he'd seen the nearly empty packet in the car but now the odd behaviors and agitation he'd seen in Fox were beginning to make him suspicious.
"I don't have to answer that," Mulder replied hotly. "They're over the counter anyway. Nothing to worry about-"
"Wh-what's going on?" Walter Sr. spurted from the recliner across the room. "What's all the yelling about?"
Fox looked stricken at the fact he'd wakened the older man but Skinner answered him immediately.
"Nothing, Dad," he said as he rose from the couch. "Fox and I were just having a little discussion. And we're gonna take it upstairs now." He grabbed the younger man's arm and began directing him toward the kitchen and the back stairs.
"N-no," Fox answered weakly, his eyes darting around for an excuse for refusing that would be acceptable. "I d-didn't mean to yell-"
"I know you didn't," Skinner replied, pulling a little more forcefully on his arm. "Let's go-"
"No!" Fox replied.
"Yes," Skinner answered, placing a hand on his back and propelling him forward against his will. "Don't make me do something you'll regret."
They made it up the stairs and into the small study that was Fox's bedroom whenever he was there. Skinner closed the door and pulled the chair away from the desk. Then he straddled it and waited for Fox to sit on the bed. The younger man looked like he wanted to run but the AD had positioned himself between the door and where Mulder was standing. He hesitated another moment, then sat down resentfully and crossed his arms in the universally understood gesture that said he was refusing to cooperate.
Skinner sighed. "What's going on, Fox?" he asked.
"Nothing."
"Uh-huh. Well, then, let's talk about those "No-Doz." The packet in your car's nearly empty and it's the economy size. When did you buy them?"
Mulder blinked. "I-I dunno. A while ago."
"How long a while?"
"I SAID I DON'T KNOW!'
"You have a better than average memory, kid. Ballpark it."
The younger man snorted derisively. "I guess it was about six months ago," he said impatiently. Then he immediately recognized that wouldn't work.
"Six months ago you were about 15," Skinner answered evenly. "And I know what you were spending your money on. It wasn't "No-Doz," I can assure you."
"Well, maybe it was three months ago," Fox answered. "Or two months ago. Or a month ago. What difference does it make?"
"If it was a month, that's a hell of a lot of that stuff to have taken. And I think it explains some of your agitation, kid-"
"Stop calling me, kid," Mulder yelled, jumping up from the bed. "I'm an adult now! I know you know it so why don't you treat me like one?"
Skinner was taken aback at the sudden outburst. "Now wait just a minute, young man-"
"No, you wait! I'm an adult. I think I-I think I deserve to be treated like one-"
Skinner rose quickly. "I think you're right," he said firmly. "When you act like an adult, you deserve to be treated like one. And when you act like a spoiled, irresponsible child, you deserve to be treated like one. And that's what I see right now."
He was looming over Mulder in two strides and the younger man sat down heavily onto the bed. He'd miscalculated badly and he wasn't exactly certain why that had happened.
"I-I-I don't-- I mean, I wasn't-" he stammered.
"I think you're overdue for a good spanking," Skinner told him, pulling him by the arm to get him on his feet. "You know how this goes, Fox. Take down your pants."
The AD took a seat on the bed, then he glared up at the younger man.
All color had drained from Fox's face and he shook his head. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry I was . . . dis-disrespectful," he said quickly.
"Well, it's a little late for that now, Fox," Skinner said, pointing to the floor beside him. "Don't make me tell you again."
Fox swallowed hard and glanced at the door one more time. His stomach was roiling and he flushed hotly. But another glance at the AD convinced him resistance was futile. He reached for his belt and began unbuckling it, then he unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans and pushed them down his long thighs. Finally, he dropped to his knees.
"C-can we talk about this?" he asked, hoping to buy enough time to come up with an excuse for his earlier behavior.
"Sure. We'll talk. Right after I warm your butt for you," Skinner replied mildly, pulling him forward over his muscled legs. Once he had Fox in position, he smoothly hooked a finger under his cotton boxers and pulled them down below the younger man's butt cheeks. Then he issued the first, resounding whack.
"Ow!" Fox blurted.
"What's this spanking for?" the AD responded, smacking him two more times.
"F-for being disrespectful!" Fox responded quickly. "Ohh! Ouchh!"
The older man smacked him three more times and saw his bottom pink up nicely. It had been a while since he'd delivered an over-the knee spanking and something told him Fox was in need of this one. He wasn't a hundred percent certain but he recognized the symptoms.
"What else?"
"What else? I-I don't know! I-Ouchh! OWWW! AHHH! For taking a whole box of- of "No-Doz!"
Skinner paused for a moment, shocked to hear this piece of information. "In how long a time?" he asked.
"In a-about a week!" Fox answered, a sob escaping involuntarily.
Skinner's stomach lurched at that further bit of news. He smacked Fox's backside soundly a half dozen more times. "Did you read the warnings on that box? SMACK! Did you? SMACK! You can't keep taking them, they're addictive! SMACK! And why would you do that? SMACK! Instead of just getting some sleep SMACK! Like a normal person, Fox. SMACK!"
"I'm sorry! I'm s-sorry!" Fox blubbered, hanging limply over the AD's knees. "I j-just. . . . I just wanted . . . I don't know! I don't know what I wanted! I was just so-so tired . . . ."
Skinner realized he'd delivered the message he'd intended and no further punishment would advance that cause. He rubbed Fox's back for a few moments, then he pushed him gently onto the floor where he collapse into the older man's arms.
"It's okay, kid," he said softly. "I don't know what this is all about but it's okay now." He enfolded the sobbing young man into a tight embrace, rubbing his back gently and laying his own chin on top of Fox's head. "I just wish you would have talked to me. Instead of going off on your own, trying to be everything to everybody. At the expense of your own health, Fox. No one in the family would ever want you to do that. You must know that."
Fox nodded but he didn't reply. He continued sobbing as if his heart were breaking. Skinner pulled him closer into the circle of his arms and waited until he was cried out. When that moment arrived, he pushed the young man back to arm's length and looked directly into his eyes.
"Fox, we've talked about this before. You don't place enough value on your own wellbeing. On your own needs. I appreciate that you're unselfish, but not at the expense of your health. And taking artificial stimulants to try to keep your body from needing normal sleep, well that's putting yourself in jeopardy as far as I'm concerned. And you know what happens when you do that."
Fox was looking at him closely and now he nodded fervently. "I know," he said softly.
"I think you ought to get some sleep now," the AD said with a relieved smile. He hoped the normal after-effect of punishment would kick in and Fox would go down for the night. He helped the younger man into his pajamas, then into bed. "Sleep well, kid. It'll all be better in the morning."
Fox closed his eyes and Skinner shut the light and left the room. His instincts told him there was more going on with Fox than the young man had let on tonight. Which wasn't much, Walt! Usually he's so verbal about what's going on once the walls are down. But not tonight. The AD headed down the stairs wondering if he'd actually managed to get any of Fox's walls down this evening.
"Is Fox all right?" Rachel asked him as soon as he reached the family room.
"He's fine. He's asleep. I-I warmed his butt for him a little bit-"
"No! Are you sure that's wise?" Mr. Skinner chuckled from across the room. "I mean, folks today don't really go in for corporal punishment and such. . . ."
Skinner smiled tiredly. "Are you sure they didn't disconnect your sense of humor when they were rewiring your heart, Dad?"
The older man guffawed. "I was thinking about a new career in stand-up comedy," he replied in kind. "Guess maybe I'll rethink that. . . ."
"Good idea," his son replied.
"Is he asleep now?" Rachel asked, trying to get them both back on the subject at hand. "He seemed to be exhausted but . . . not able to let himself rest."
"He's been taking a bit of that anti-drowsiness stuff they sell over the counter," Skinner told her. "I think he overdosed himself a bit with it. He's been trying to be everything to everybody lately. As if he thinks he has to . . . buy our love or something-"
"Well, that could be another result of losing the last of his own family, darling," Rachel answered thoughtfully. "We're all he has now and . . . he may be afraid we'll reject him the way his parents did eventually."
Skinner shook his head. It made some sense but . . . something more was wrong, he could feel it. "He hasn't been himself all day. Truth be told, he hasn't really been himself for a few weeks now. He's been like a poster child for good behavior at work - and that's just not Fox. Every time I turn around, he's off helping someone in the family. I've been watching him and he just doesn't stay . . . still. I've been chalking it up to Fox dealing with his grief but . . . ."
"Well, honey, I've been watching him too and I think I've got an idea," Rachel said as she stood and went into the kitchen. Her husband and son waited as she prepared some strong Russian tea, then brought it into the family room and poured a cup for each of them.
"I happened to see some photos in Fox's wallet today when it fell off the counter," Rachel continued as she sat back with her mug. She blew on it to cool the hot liquid and looked at her son thoughtfully. "I was trying to figure out what made him pick the pictures he carries. And I think I know now."
Her son lifted his mug to his own lips and looked at her over the top. His mother was an astute observer of behavior, something he learned well in his own youth. The woman could discern guilt or deceit without a hint of a clue. He'd often thought she would have made a great FBI agent, if circumstances had been different.
"All the photos in his wallet. . . and the ones he's moved into your new house, Walter. They're of you and him, or Fox and Andy or Joe. And in all of them, one of you is hugging him. Or holding him when he was very little. But there's . . . touching. "
"Mom, we're a pretty touchy-feely kind of family," Skinner laughed. "I don't think I have to tell you that-"
"That's exactly my point, dear," she answered. "I watched you this afternoon when you arrived. You hugged Doug and Mike. And Joe and your Dad. And me. But you didn't hug Fox-"
Skinner looked up at her in surprise. "Well . . . I always let Fox set the boundaries. He didn't come from a very loving family, Mom. They were not physically affectionate-"
"Aah, but that's my point, Walter," Rachel interjected. She and her husband exchanged an amused look. "Fox comes from this family now . . . "
The Assistant Director blinked as he sat back and chewed on that. "Yes, but . . . He's his old self again. In most ways. The seven months with us can't counter a lifetime of being another way."
"And that's where I think you're wrong," Rachel answered him firmly. "I think the most recent experience far outweighs the childhood he had thirty years ago. He's been used to being treated one way. And you, and your brothers . . . ." Rachel stopped and looked directly at her husband. "And even you, Walter, you've all gone back to treating him the way you did before. But he's not the old Fox. He's changed. And I don't even think he realizes it himself."
The elder man nodded slowly. "Makes sense, Raya," he told his wife. Then he broke out in a smile, his eyes twinkling with pride. "You always were the smartest one in the family!"
Their son was staring into space, trying it all on for size. "But . . . Fox told me he wants things to go back to normal, to be like they were before. I don't-" He stopped at the sound of someone coming down the back stairs quickly. In a moment, the subject of their conversation appeared at the door to the family room, dressed in running clothes.
"I-I can't sleep," he said agitatedly. "I have to go for a run. Please . . . ! I just have to . . ." He looked at the AD pleadingly.
Skinner nodded. "Of course, son. If you need to go, go."
Mulder nodded back, then glanced briefly at Mr. and Mrs. Skinner. He gave them a fleeting, self-conscious smile then he turned on his heel and fled out the back door.
Skinner watched him go, worry etched on his face.
"Fox is grieving, sweetheart," his mother interrupted his reverie. "But I think he's grieving the loss of his childhood as much as the losses of his mother and Samantha. I think perhaps he'd given up on them a long time ago and just couldn't admit it. But he was happy as a child, with you. He felt loved and secure, maybe for the first time in his life. And that's not something you can just give up easily."
Her son turned to her. He remained still for a moment, then he rose quickly. "I have to go after him," he said. He gave Rachel a quick kiss on the cheek, then did the same with his father who hugged him back fiercely.
"Go make sure he's okay, son," Walter Sr. said gruffly. "I can't stand to have one of my kids suffering alone. . . ."
Skinner nodded, then he bounded up the back stairs and changed into sweats and sneakers quickly. He was out the door and headed toward the river in less than five minutes. His instincts told him Fox would run there, on the back roads rather than the main ones. He caught a glimpse of the younger man up ahead within a few minutes.
Mulder was jogging, but at a slower pace than normal. His body seemed to be shaking and Skinner guessed he was crying. He came to a stop at one point before the AD overtook him and put his arms around his chest as though he were cold, even though it was not a particularly chilly night.
"Fox, are you all right?" Skinner asked him as he approached.
Mulder stood up quickly and rubbed his sleeve across his face. He didn't turn back though. "Yeah. I'm fine. Really. You didn't have to come after me."
"Okay. I just felt like a run, too. And I thought we could run together."
Mulder sighed heavily. "Okay. Fine. But you don't have to-"
Skinner chuckled. "You already said that. I feel like running. You lead, I'll follow."
Mulder sighed again, then he took off like the wind. Skinner had to work at keeping up and he wished he hadn't eaten quick as large a dinner as he trailed the younger, leaner man. Then suddenly Fox stopped again, and leaned over. He put his hands on his knees and hung his head down and the AD could tell he was fighting back tears, even from behind.
"Fox. . . ?"
"I'm . . . okay," he answered immediately. "I'm . . . I'm . . . " He paused again, shaking his head. A light wind blew over him, lifting a lock of his hair until it was standing straight up. The silence went on for a long moment, then Fox sobbed. "I'm . . . not okay-"
"I know," the AD answered gently. "I'm here." He closed the distance between them as Fox sank to his knees and the older man gathered him into a huge embrace. "I'm here, son. Just let it go."
The younger man's tears welled up and spilled over and he cried for a long while. Tears that came from a well of sadness he couldn't quite explain. Skinner caressed the back of his head and rubbed slow circles on his back, never letting go even when Mulder tried to pull back in embarrassment.
"No, Fox," the AD said. "Don't do that. I think. . . I think I've let you go a little too much since you've grown up again. And I'm not gonna do that any more."
Fresh tears came then and it took a while before Mulder seemed cried out. And wiped out, the older man thought to himself. He lifted him to his feet, keeping an arm around his waist. "Let's go home, kid."
When they arrived back at the house, the elder Skinners had already gone to bed. The Assistant Director sent Mulder upstairs to shower and change, then followed with a glass of warm milk. He found Fox stepping out of the hall bath, wearing pajamas and a T-shirt, toweling his wet hair dry as he walked.
"Milk?" the younger man asked, seeking to normalize things between them. "Warm milk? What were you thinking?"
"I was thinking you've had way too much caffeine, young man," Skinner answered in kind. "And you need some sleep. This will help."
"I don't know if I can sleep. I'm still pretty wired-"
"Fine. Then we'll talk," Skinner responded. He jerked his head toward his own bedroom. "I don't want to wake the folks. Come inside."
Mulder followed him in. He took a seat on the bed Indian-style and Skinner handed him the glass of milk. "Could I get some chocolate in this?" Fox snorted derisively.
"What'd I just say about caffeine, huh?"
"Yeah, but warm milk! I haven't had that since I was about three-"
"Which was all of six months ago! Humor me."
Mulder sighed and downed about half of it in a single gulp. It wasn't as bad as he expected. It had been sweetened and there was a hint of vanilla in the liquid.
The other man took a seat in a chair next to the bed and stretched his long legs out onto the mattress. "Fox, I think I may have miscalculated a little, when we went back to the way things were before . . . before you were a kid again."
Mulder took another sip of milk and watched him, waiting.
"I know we decided we'd try to get things back to 'normal,' son-"
"Normal for most people? Or normal for your family?" Fox interrupted him, grinning from ear to ear.
Skinner's heart lightened immediately. Here was a glimpse of the young man he knew and loved. "Very funny," he returned with a smile. "But that's exactly what I'm getting at, actually. What brand of 'normal' were you expecting?"
Mulder looked at him curiously. "I'm not sure I understand the question."
Skinner grabbed a pillow and folded it over near the headboard. Then he stretched his own long frame out on the bed, positioning himself so he was looking at Fox at the other end. He folded his arms under his head so he could keep eye contact.
"Well, it's my Mom's theory, really. But it rang true for me . . . . She thinks you're different than you were before you became a kid again. That the experience changed you more than we might think. You look the same on the outside as before but . . . . inside you've changed."
Mulder nodded thoughtfully, and drank down the remains of the glass of milk. He leaned over and placed it on the night stand. "Well, all experiences change people, it's the theory of cause and effect. It's just that, generally speaking, experiences early in life have a greater impact-"
"Yes, that's exactly what she said. We all recognized that this experience, happening to you as an adult and lasting a little more than six months, had an effect but didn't basically change you. So when you said you wanted to go back to being treated like 'normal,' that's what we all did. You look the same and I guess it's like 'muscle memory,' for me and Joe and Andy and everyone. It was easy to slip back into the same old patterns."
Mulder was staring at the ceiling now. "Only this set of experience didn't happen to me in my thirties. They happened in . . . in my second run through the formative years. The first three or four years in a child's life are especially critical and . . . ."
Skinner was watching him closely. He swore he could see the wheels turning inside his brain as the information was processed, analyzed and fit into the infinite jigsaw puzzle of Mulder's life. Tears welled up in his eyes suddenly.
"What's wrong, Fox?" the AD asked, laying a hand on the younger man's leg beside him.
"I've been feeling . . . lost. Detached, in a way. Like I'm a welcome guest here. . . . And I couldn't figure it out. You've all been so wonderful to me, through everything. I-I've been thinking I must be the most selfish, self-centered person . . . . after all you and your family have done, I'm not satisfied. . . ."
"Fox you're neither selfish, nor self-centered," Skinner told him firmly. "Can you figure out what was different? What made you feel . . . . less a part of the family?"
Fox's lower lip quivered and he clamped down on it with his teeth, trying to hold back the wave of emotion that was about to overtake him. "It sounds . . . stupid," he snorted, trying to regain some control.
"Tell me anyway, son," the AD directed.
Mulder squeezed his eyes shut in another attempt at fighting off his emotions. "You don't . . . . hug me any more," he whispered finally. "Except when you punish me, that's the only time. And Joe doesn't and Andy doesn't. Everyone stopped . . . ." New tears overwhelmed whatever he was going to say.
Skinner sat up and reached for him, pulling him into a fierce embrace. "That's what my Mom noticed," he said, struggling to hold back his own emotions. "I'm sorry, Fox. We're all sorry. We thought. . . you'd be uncomfortable with a lot of physical affection because . . . well, you were before. But you are different, kid. I understand that now."
Fox laid his head on the man's shoulder and sobbed again. A sense of relief washed over him. "I was so . . . afraid," he said, his words fueled by the hitching breaths that told Skinner he was beginning to calm down. "I was scared that soon . . . y-you and your family would . . . get tired of m-me. . . And then I'd be alone-"
Skinner pushed him back to arm's length, keeping one hand firmly on either of his upper arms and shook him gently. "And that's why you've been running yourself into the ground, trying to be the perfect son? The perfect grandson and brother and . . . The perfect FBI agent? . . . .!"
Mulder nodded spastically. "I didn't want there to be any reason . . . to not want me around any more."
Skinner exhaled forcefully and pulled him back into the circle of his arms. He rubbed the back of Fox's head as he spoke. "Fox, you don't have to earn our love. You have it. And you'll have it always. Just for being you - because you're a part of this family. You were before . . . before you were 'reversed.' And now . . . well, if I haven't said this to you since you grew up, shame on me. I love you, kid. You're the . . . son I never had. And gave up hoping to have. I know it doesn't make a whole lot of sense if you look at the chronology but . . . . that's how it is. And it always will be."
Fox sat back and let out a deep, soul-cleansing breath. He looked at Skinner and from the depth of his heart he wanted to believe . . . .
The AD sensed his hesitation and he knew this moment was pivotal if Fox was going to get past his fear of being left alone. He looked directly into the younger man's eyes and spoke from the bottom of his own heart. "I love you, son. I couldn't love you more, or be prouder of anyone. Not Joe or Andy. Not Doug or Mike or anyone. And that will never change, Fox. You have my promise."
Then he took Fox's face in his hands and kissed him, once on either cheek, in the Russian tradition his family had always continued.
Fox sighed deeply and exhaled raggedly. "I-" he began, his voice cracking with emotion. "I love you, too . . . Dad."
Skinner laughed with relief and pulled him back into a huge hug. "I don't expect you to call me that all the time, kid. It would make people think I'm a lot older than I am. But I want you to know how much it means to me when you do. It's . . . the nicest thing anyone's ever called me."
"Yeah, you should hear what they call you in the bullpen at work . . . " Mulder snorted.
The Assistant Director gave him one more squeeze, then he rose and headed out of the room. "I'm certain I don't want to know!" he laughed. "I need a shower. Give me a few minutes, then we can finish talking, okay?"
But when he returned, Mulder was sound asleep on his bed, Yoda curled up beside him. The younger man's head was at the footboard still and his feet were at the headboard. Skinner watched him fondly for a moment, thinking there was no way he could share that bed with a grown man and a large dog. The full size bed in his old room was not large enough to accommodate them all. And Fox was far too big to be carried to his own bed now. Although, in sleep, he closely resembled the child he'd been several months earlier. A lump formed in the AD's throat as he stared at the young man sleeping peacefully.
Skinner got an extra blanket out of the closet and covered him, being careful not to wake him. He doubted Fox had had a good night's sleep in several weeks, if not longer. Then he turned off the light and closed the door behind him, heading for Fox's room.
"Walter?" he heard his father call from the other end of the hallway. "Is everything all right?"
Skinner stopped in mid-step and smiled at his father in the dim light. "Yeah, Dad," he said quietly. "I think it's gonna be fine. Fox fell asleep in my bed so I'm gonna use his."
"Well, that's a habit you haven't completely broken him of, then," his father laughed. "But I remember you kids always wanted to sleep in our bed, when you were feeling scared or insecure. It's a family tradition, I guess."
The AD chuckled. "Yeah. I just hope he really understands how much a part of this family he is, Dad. I tell him, and I try to show him but . . . . He's a little hard-headed."
Mr. Skinner chuckled softly, too. He covered the two steps to his son and pulled him into a hug. Then kissed him, once on each cheek. "Well, Walter, that's another family tradition, isn't it?" he said. "Like father, like son!"
His son laughed and opened the door to the study. "Well, it's a trait I came by naturally, too," he said softly.
"Don't think I didn't hear that!" Mr. Skinner whispered as he closed his own door.
THE END