Deja Vu Epilogue Epilogue

by Cadillac Red



To his great surprise, Skinner fell completely back into the old routines. It had been many years since he'd found himself doing anything other than enforcing a punishment tour. But the familiar patterns and expectations came back effortlessly, once he let himself get past the reality of the situation in which he suddenly found himself.

The days passed more quickly than he expected. Chores. Lots of chores. But the act of doing physical labor, planting, weeding, turning soil, cleaning gutters and weather proofing the lawn furniture, all of these things took him away from himself. And put him back 'on the path of righteousness' as one of his brothers might say. At the very least, it got him out of his AD headspace and back into that of a Skinner son, a place he would have said he always inhabited but . . . . The reality was he sometimes lost that feeling of connection in the day to day whirlwind of the FBI.

The realization told him he'd gotten a little off track in some ways. Thankfully, the elder Mr. Skinner was not a man who forgot or overlooked his responsibilities, no matter how old or successful his sons grew. The rules were the rules, the older man said many times and no one had cause to doubt him. Least of all, his oldest son. And certainly not now, under his present circumstances.

His afternoons ended with a sojourn of an hour or so staring at a corner of the family living room. Skinner was embarrassed as hell the first day but by the time a half hour had passed, he found himself falling into a quiet, contemplative state. Day two went even better, only a few minutes' resistance, then a slide into a meditative place where time, and FBI responsibilities, melted away. It was about as quiet and peaceful an hour as his generally overactive mind could remember.

The nightly bedtime spankings, though, never got any easier. It had been twenty-five years since his last punishment tour and he had to admit he hated those every bit as much now as before. Thursday and Friday night when Mr. Skinner sent him upstairs to get ready for bed, he had to fight down the urge to flee. It gave the AD a new respect for Mulder, for the way he'd learned to accept this aspect of the discipline he received regularly.

The younger man was an unreconstructed rebel, with a streak of wanderlust and an urge to bolt whenever things spun out of his control. Yet he had learned to tame his instincts and accept this nightly ritual whenever he was sentenced to a punishment tour.

Skinner found himself thinking that he could expect no less from himself so he set his jaw and waited each night for his father to deliver the short, meaningful spanking that closed out each day of his sentence. Then the AD sank immediately into a deep, restful sleep, twelve solid hours that restored his equilibrium and healed his spirit in a way nothing had in a long time.

By Saturday morning, he knew he'd cleared the hurdle. His behavior during this tour had been impeccable. And he and his father had taken advantage of their time alone to talk, about things, and events, and feelings, in a way they hadn't in a long time. Skinner felt the need to tell him one more thing, and to seek his advice about how to handle it.

"Dad?" he said as he cleaned the brushes he'd been using to waterproof the outdoor furniture. "I want to ask you something."

Mr. Skinner had been sitting at the picnic table, reading the newspaper and drinking a cup of strong Russian tea. "What's that, son?" he asked, looking up from the paper.

"It's about Joe," Skinner said quietly. "I-I appreciate that you didn't . . . let on to anyone that I was gonna get punished. I-I can't tell you how much I appreciate that!"

His father smiled knowingly. "Well, you hold a dual role in the family since you grew up, Walter. You're my stand-in when I can't be the enforcer so . . . . It just seemed like the others didn't need to know. This was between you and your mother and me anyway."

"I know. But I've been thinking about Joe. You know, he's a little . . . too serious. He takes this all so seriously. He was beating himself up over it all before he left. And I think I got through to him, that it was not something to be ashamed of but-"

"But Joe compares himself to you all the time," his father finished the thought. He didn't smile, even though Walter's description of Joe sounded suspiciously like his eldest son, too.

The Assistant Director paused, struck by how well his father knew and understood his sons. "Yeah. That's it, I guess."

"And he thinks this would never happen to you, right?"

Skinner smiled again. He should have known the older man would have thought this through already.



So on Saturday afternoon, the AD sat in his old bedroom, writing in the Lesson Book. His parents had suggested it when he came in for lunch. Or requested it, to be more accurate. Skinner knew it was in lieu of the regular corner time each afternoon of a punishment tour.

At some point this afternoon, the rest of the family would arrive and they were sparing him even the possibility that one of the others would walk in and find him inhabiting a corner of the living room. No one in the family would fail to understand the significance of that!

Joe and Nora's car pulled up outside and Amanda, Mike and Kathy were out of the back seat and heading into their Grandmother's kitchen before it was fully parked. Their parents followed and found there were fresh-baked cookies and lemonade waiting. Not to mention fresh-brewed tea.

"Mom, the food in New York City couldn't compare to what you put out," Joe told her, giving her a kiss on the cheek as he slipped a cookie out from behind her.

She playfully smacked his butt. "You could just ask, Joseph!"

He grinned at her. "That would take all the fun out of it," he responded. Then he turned to his father. "Where's Walter?"

"Hmm?" Mr. Skinner responded as though he weren't expecting the question. "I think he's upstairs. Why don't you go call him?"

Joe shot him a strange look. "I'm sure he'll come down when he's ready . . . ."

"No, I think you should go call him. Tell him to come on down," his father insisted.

"What? Why? He'll come when-"

"Joe, what did I just say?" the elder Mr. Skinner responded, beginning to grow impatient.

Joe shook his head slightly, beginning to think his father was getting a little senile. "Ooookay," he said slowly. "Don't get worked up . . . ."

He went to the back stairs and stopped, opening his mouth to call upstairs. "Wal-"

"Joseph Dmitri Skinner! I said GO GET HIM," his father thundered."

Joe's head snapped to the side and his mouth closed so fast the others could hear his teeth click. "Okay! I'm going," he responded immediately, taking the stairs two at a time. He wanted to find Walter just to see if he knew what the heck was bothering their Dad.

"Walt?" Joe called as he entered his brother's bedroom.

Skinner was sprawled on an armchair near the window, one leg thrown over the arm. He had his head down and he was writing something. Joe launched himself onto the bed and stretched out.

"What the heck's wrong with Dad?" Joe asked. "I'm beginning to think he's losing it. I thought, after a couple of days hanging with you, he'd be in a great mood. What'd you guys do anyway?"

Skinner looked up, a mysterious smile on his face. "Really. What'd you do, go fishing or something?"

The AD didn't respond. He looked toward the window, trying to decide how to answer his brother's question. But Joe's eyes fell on the marbled notebook in Walter's hands.

"Hey! If I didn't know better, I'd think you've been writing in the Lesson Book! That'd be-" He stopped, suddenly understanding. "You-you. . . . Holy cow!"

Skinner closed the book and put it down on the night stand. "Joe, everybody's subject to the rules. I told you that. Dad . . . reminded me everybody means. . . everybody!"

"Yeah, but . . . ." his brother breathed, shaking his head. "I didn't think-- What the heck did you do anyway?"

"Let's just say Dad wasn't happy to hear the first contact I got about his past was . . . seven years ago."

Joe's eyes widened. "Seven years? And you didn't tell a soul? I imagine he wasn't happy about that."

The AD shook his head. "Not at all happy," he answered. "And he impressed that on me but good! But he was right. At the end of the day . . . hard as it is to admit, I guess I needed to be reminded what's really important."

Joe nodded absent-mindedly. He couldn't quite get his mind off the mental image of his beloved older brother . . . on a punishment tour.

It was a warm Spring day and the windows were all open. Suddenly there was a commotion outside and Skinner rose and went to the window to see what it was.

Two cars had pulled into the driveway. The first one belonged to Mulder and the second to Andy.

Mulder jumped out of the driver's seat of the first one as soon as it came to a stop, then he staggered away from the car in a decidedly melodramatic way. Skinner smiled when he saw Scully emerge from the passenger seat smiling - and Brian and Haley spring out of the back doors. He knew immediately they must have wanted to ride with 'Uncle Fox'.

Andy and Eileen got out of their own car, laughing at his antics. The back door of their car opened and Fiona emerged. Skinner had called her earlier in the week, at the suggestion of her mother. She was pleased to be able to spend some time with his family, she said, accepting the invitation for Easter immediately.

"You offered to take them," Andy chuckled. "I told you. . . "

"We started out almost two hours before you! And you arrived at the same time as us! We must have stopped at every public rest room between here and Washington. Not to mention a few private homes when we couldn't wait to reach a rest area. By the way, the residents of Wilmington send their regards!"

Skinner smiled, remembering similar rides with Fox when he was small. He loved the fact that Andy and Fox had grown so close. And he loved the way little Haley grabbed Mulder's hand when she got out of the car. It did his heart good to see how natural he and Scully were with the kids, and the rest of the family.

"Well, we should get downstairs," Skinner was saying as Joe's mind began to clear.

"Yeah. Oh, yeah, that's what Dad sent me up here to tell you!"

The AD gave his brother a look of affectionate exasperation. "Why didn't you say so?" he asked as he headed out of the room. In a moment he was back, realizing his brother hadn't followed.

Joe was standing at the night stand, his hand reaching for the notebook the AD had lain there a few minutes before.

"Joseph! You're not supposed to read what anyone else writes!" Skinner called, startling him out of his state of concentration. Joe snatched his hand back as though he'd been caught with it in the cookie jar.

"I-I wasn't. . . . Um, I'm coming," the younger brother said with an embarrassed smile.

Skinner stood at the doorway and waited. Joe sidled past, turning his backside to the doorframe as he passed his brother in a time-honored ritual that almost never worked. This time, though, the AD let it go. He waited until Joe had moved into the hallway, then he closed the door and followed him.

"Don't worry, Joe," he said as they headed for the front stairs. "I'll just tell Dad."

"You wouldn't!" Joe exclaimed, giving him a stricken look. He was shocked and dismayed at the thought until he noticed the twinkle in his brother's eyes. And they both laughed, a hearty, cob-web clearing laugh that spoke of a lifetime of shared experience with the love, and discipline, their father had instilled in them. It was a very good feeling.

THE END