Take 2 - Part 34
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: Fox's latest punishment tour goes well until the boy lets himself be convinced he could break out of jail without consequence, leading to tragic results.
McLean, Virginia
Wednesday at 7 p.m.
The Assistant Director entered the kitchen through the door from the garage. Fox was there, talking animatedly into the telephone. Clad in tee shirt and jeans, he sat atop the kitchen counter, his bare feet perched on one of the stools and he held out a treat to Yoda as he talked. The dog sat down and stared up at him, tail wagging rapidly, eager anticipation written all over him. The boy finally relented and gave him his biscuit and Yoda laid down and attacked it with dispatch.
"And I'm getting an 'A' in French, too," he said. "I had to go see a French play a couple of weeks ago, and I understood every word. I might go to France some time, I think."
Skinner walked by him, carrying a brown paper bag in one arm and his briefcase in another. He noted the disjointed conversation, and gave the boy a curious look. "Who are you talking to?" he mouthed at him.
"My Mom," Fox answered immediately.
Skinner was surprised and pleased by the answer. As an adult, Mulder had had a generally difficult relationship with his mother. Perhaps this time things would be different.
"Say hi for me," he said as he opened his briefcase and pulled out a blue baseball cap. It had the letters "FBI" emblazoned in white on the front and he placed it on Fox's head as he went by.
The boy pulled it off immediately as he spoke into the phone again. "Dad says 'hi,' he repeated automatically. "Hey, cool!" he continued, his face lighting up as he got a look at the hat.
Skinner smiled as he exited the kitchen and headed upstairs to change out of his work clothes. The old Mulder would never have thought any such thing about an FBI cap. But at eighteen or so, it was a different story.
The A.D. returned a few minutes later wearing sweats and a faded USMC sweatshirt to hear the young man still talking to his mother. It did his heart good to hear it, and he imagined Teena Mulder must be pleased, too. Rounding the corner, he saw Fox was still wearing the cap, only now it was turned backwards on his head as he rattled on about some other topic.
Skinner took the steaks he'd bought out of the bag on the counter and began preparing them for the grill. He'd also brought home fresh corn on the cob, Fox's favorite vegetable. Fox was now giving his mother a play-by-play recap of the World Series game they'd seen the previous weekend in Atlanta. He had an amazing memory and Skinner found himself hoping Teena actually cared about the game, considering the level of detail she was receiving.
Fox was serving yet another punishment tour after his curfew violation of the Saturday before. This week the swimming team had no practices or meets scheduled so the boy was coming home at 3:30 each afternoon. Skinner had instructed him to call his office as soon as he arrived at the house and so far Fox had made the call right on schedule each day. His phone privileges were also suspended, which might help explain the long conversation with his mother, the A.D. mused. She was on the list of approved calls.
The conversation he and Fox had Sunday night had made Skinner anxious about what this week might bring. He'd given Fox a severe paddling for breaking his curfew and the boy had been remorseful and subdued afterward. As he was getting ready for bed, the Assistant Director informed him about the rest of his sentence and Fox had taken that news of another punishment tour without much protest. But the final piece of information had stirred his rebellious streak.
"What do you mean I can't see Cat and Dylan? They're my friends!"
"I don't think people who try to get you to do things you know are wrong can be referred to as 'friends,' Fox," Skinner had told him firmly. "And I'm putting my foot down now. You are not to see either of them except in passing while you're at school. Period."
"But . . but Cat is my . . . she's my girlfriend!" the boy had yelled, tripping over his own words. "And I l-love her! You can't make me stop seeing her!"
"As long as you're a minor, and living under my roof, I have veto authority over your social life. I let it go too long already. I hoped you'd see for yourself what a bad influence these so-called 'friends' are. But you haven't, so now I'm making the decision for you."
They'd argued another couple of minutes but then emotional and physical exhaustion had double-teamed the young man into submission. It occurred to Skinner that, on one level, the boy seemed almost relieved to have the decision taken out of his hands. In a few minutes, he'd been asleep and Monday morning had brought not a peep of further protest. And each day Fox had come home on schedule and met every requirement of his restriction.
Skinner returned from the back deck after lighting the grill and tapped the boy on his shoulder. "Weren't you supposed to make a salad to go with dinner?" he asked him as soon as Fox lifted his head. Skinner had assigned him that task when they'd spoken earlier in the afternoon.
"It's in the refrigerator," the young man whispered.
The A.D. was a little surprised that the chore was completed with plenty of time to spare. (Now I know the secret, kid. Boredom is apparently a great incentive for you!)
He opened the refrigerator door and pulled out a large glass salad bowl. It was covered in plastic wrap and he noticed it was arranged rather strangely. Placing it on the counter, he turned the bowl, trying to ascertain what it was supposed to be. Then it hit him. On a bed of lettuce, the boy had arranged chopped eggs and black olives in the shape of a smiley face.
Skinner looked up at Fox. "Have a nice day," the boy said, grinning ear to ear. "Oh, not you, Mom! I mean, I hope you have a nice day, too, of course. I was talking to Dad--"
He listened for a few seconds, then spoke again. "Oh, okay. I'll talk to you soon. Bye."
Fox handed the phone to Skinner. "She wants to talk to you," he said before ducking away from the playful smack the A.D. aimed at his butt as he headed into the family room.
"Hi, Teena," Skinner said, holding the portable phone between his ear and shoulder as he carried the steaks out to the grill.
"Hello, Walt. I just wanted to tell you . . . how wonderful it is to hear Fox so happy. And content. He was very moody at this age before and this is a remarkable change. I just wanted you to know I'm grateful for everything you've done."
"Well, don't give me too much credit," Skinner answered warmly. "He can still be unbelievably moody. I don't know if he told you but he's grounded right now--"
"Yes," she chuckled. "He told me. Sounds like you've got it under control though. I hope he'll behave long enough for you to bring him back to Greenwich for a weekend soon."
"I think that can be arranged," Skinner answered. "We've got my nephew Doug's wedding next weekend. But the weekend after that is wide open. . . ."
He hung the phone up a minute later when he stepped back into the kitchen. Then he stopped for a moment and stared into the family room. Fox was sprawled lazily on the sofa, his feet hanging over the arm. Yoda was splayed out beside him, his head in Fox's lap as the boy unconsciously stroked the dog's head. Fox was reading something, probably homework, the A.D. mused. His face was unlined and innocent, yet he was unmistakably Mulder now. But with an air of contentment and security, as if he were certain of his place in the universe in a way Special Agent Fox Mulder never had been. Skinner surprised himself as a silent prayer crossed his mind unbidden. (Let him be, God. If I could have one wish, it would be for him to keep the peace and security he's found here.)
He sighed and headed back out to the grill to turn the steaks. It occurred to him that his prayer was for both of them. Living in this house and in Nantucket, all these months with Fox, had given him a sense of being home again. It was something he hadn't felt much in a long time, not since the early years with Sharon. And while he knew it wouldn't last for long with the way the boy was growing, he felt immensely grateful for however long they were given.
FBI Headquarters
Thursday afternoon
3:28 p.m.
"Assistant Director?" Kim said as she opened the door to his office. "You have a call on your private line."
It was their shorthand for calls from Fox. Skinner excused himself from the conference room and stepped back into his office. "Hi, kid," he said as he picked up the receiver.
"Hi, Dad. Just wanted you to know I'm home. Three minutes early!"
"How'd you manage that?" Skinner laughed.
"Mrs. Barefoot gave me a ride and we made all the lights," Fox answered. "She was coming in this direction. And she said to tell you she'll call you tonight."
Skinner asked him about his chemistry test and heard the grin on the kid's face when he reported he'd 'aced it.' Then the A.D. told Fox about a few chores he wanted the boy to complete that afternoon, along with whatever homework and studying he had to do. "I'll be home late," he finished. "I have a meeting with the Budget Committee that will last until nine or so. Go ahead and order something for dinner. The menus are in the left-hand drawer in the kitchen and there's money in the top drawer of my desk."
They agreed on Chinese or pizza and finished the call. "I'm trusting you to stay home alone, Fox. And to go to bed when you're supposed to. You're still being punished, you know," Skinner told him before hanging up. "I love you, pal."
"Yeah," the boy laughed good-naturedly. He'd once asked Skinner about the way his family ended phone calls in that manner. The A.D. had told him very seriously that 'you never know when you talk to someone you love if it's the last time you'll get the chance.' Fox thought that was a little pessimistic but he knew his father felt strongly about it. "I love you too, Dad."
Fox hung up and had barely put the phone down when it rang again. "Forget something?" he asked after picking it up again.
"No, but I'm beginning to think you've forgotten me," Cat Halsey purred into the phone. "You've barely talked to me all week!"
"Oh, hi, Cat," Fox said slowly. He wasn't supposed to be talking to her. But he hadn't told her that and he didn't want to tell her now.
"That doesn't sound like you're gonna be glad to see me," she pouted. "And I'm at your front door right now." As she said that, the doorbell rang.
Fox hung the phone up. "Oh, shit," he breathed as he went to answer the door. Cat flung herself at him as soon as he opened it. Dylan Kane and Delia Westley were standing behind her. After giving him a soulful kiss that took his breath away, she grabbed his hand and began pulling him out of the house.
"Come with us," she said giddily. "We're off from school tomorrow because of that teacher's conference so you can't use that 'homework' excuse you've been giving me! Let's just hang, okay?"
Fox was torn between making up an excuse and telling her the truth, that he was grounded. And not allowed to see them anyway. But the girl and the other couple made him feel self-conscious about it. He hesitated too long and before he knew it, Cat had taken his jacket from where it had been hanging on the railing by the stairs and they were on their way out of the house.
Fox's stomach was in knots as they got into the car and he wondered whether the security team at the end of the block would call his Dad and tell him about the trip. But he knew with almost complete certainty that Skinner had not shared the fact the boy was grounded with them. He trusted Fox to honor his word. That thought brought a wave of guilt that chilled him until his focus changed to Cat's mouth coming down on his own, her hand lightly brushing his groin.
Raging hormones pushed all conscious thought out of his mind. (Thank God my Dad won't be home till late! I can go hang out for an hour or two and then come home. And he'll never know. Please God, don't let him find out!)
They drove to a pizza place near the school. It had a juke box and video games and many of Fox's classmates hung out there in the afternoons. The young man had only been there a couple of times before but he knew almost everyone there and was greeted as a long-lost friend. They met up with Jarrod Kelley and his new girlfriend, and other members of the swimming team and Fox found himself having a good time, swiftly losing track of the hour. At five o'clock, he suddenly realized how much time had passed and mentioned that he needed to get home.
"No, don't go," Cat pleaded, grabbing his hand. "We're off tomorrow. And we could do something fun."
"I don't know," Fox told her, mentally searching for a good excuse for wanting to leave. But nothing occurred to him.
"I know!" she suddenly exclaimed. "Let's go to Richmond! To Edgar Allen Poe's house. It's an awesome place to go for Halloween!"
Dylan agreed immediately and he and Delia left to get the car without a second thought. Now Fox was beginning to sweat and he turned to Jarrod, hoping he'd say something that would dissuade Cat from this plan. He didn't appear to be interested in the trip to Richmond, but he also didn't say anything that Fox could grab onto as an excuse. They spoke for a while longer, then they all headed out to the car as Dylan pulled it up in front.
The other boy had put the top down on the convertible, and Delia sat beside him. There was a cooler on the front seat of the car and Fox saw beer and a bottle of vodka on ice. Both Dylan and Delia were drinking and Cat reached in and grabbed the vodka bottle.
She took a swig then handed the bottle to Fox. The boy was too stunned to refuse it and he put it to his lips as he frantically tried to work out a good excuse for going home. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Jarrod Kelley grimace and shake his head.
"You got a problem, Kelley?" Dylan Kane asked from the driver's seat. "Or are you just constipated or something?"
Dylan and Jarrod had not repaired their relationship after Delia hooked up with Dylan in New York City a few weeks before. She'd been dating Jarrod before that. Perhaps more telling, Cat Halsey had told Fox several times that she thought Jarrod was 'a bore.' He felt waves of tension crash around him and began to worry Jarrod and Dylan might come to blows. But the Kelley boy simply took his new girlfriend's hand and walked off.
"Have a good time in Richmond," Jarrod called back sarcastically.
Fox watched him go, and wished he had the courage to just walk away too. But Cat had slipped an arm around his waist and passed him the vodka bottle again.
"What a major-league asshole," she said, eliciting a laugh of agreement from Delia. Then she reached into the cooler and took a bottle of beer out for herself and one for Fox. "Let's go," she told him as she handed him a beer. "I've heard that Edgar Allen Poe's house is haunted! Maybe we'll get to see an actual ghost. . . "
Fox's eyes lit at the thought but his fear of going any further afield from his punishment tour overrode it, albeit weakly. "I- I c-can't," Fox said with minimal conviction. "I have to get home. My Dad and I--"
"What's this thing with you and 'Daddy,' huh?" Dylan asked derisively. "I mean really, man. Don't you think you should spend some time with friends your own age once in a while?
Fox blushed a dark pink immediately. "I'm n-not. . . . I mean, I don't think I should--"
"Oh, come on!" Cat said, stamping her foot. "You're becoming a real geek, Fox. If you don't let us save you from yourself, it's gonna be too late!"
"She's right, Fox. I thought you were kinda cool but lately you're just totally lame," Dylan interjected. "Daddy giving you a hard time or something? Are you afraid he's gonna spank you if you take a drive with your friends?"
Fox reddened further at their comments. "N-no," he stammered, staring at his own feet. "I just don't want--"
"You don't want to come?" Cat asked, pressing her body up against his and running her hands down his back and over his butt. She whispered in his ear. "I know a hotel in Richmond. We're off tomorrow . . . so we can stay overnight. And I'll be very--" She kissed him on the neck. "Very--" Next she kissed his jaw line. "Very disappointed if I end up there alone while Delia and Dylan are getting it on in the room next door!"
Before he knew what happened, Fox found himself in the convertible, a can of beer in his hand. Dylan made a fast u-turn, burning rubber as he passed a crowd of kids on the sidewalk. He gave Jarrod Kelley the finger as he drove by and Fox swiftly swallowed his beer, praying the liquid would help put out the fire in his churning gut.
McLean, Virginia
7:15 p.m.
Skinner cut the engine of the jeep and stepped out onto the driveway. He left the car out in the hope that Fox had not yet eaten dinner. The Budget meeting had been canceled at the last minute because the Director was called to the Hill. So the A.D. came home, intending to take the boy out to dinner if it wasn't too late. He'd called from the car and Fox had not answered so he didn't know whether he'd eaten or not.
Skinner wasn't too worried about the fact Fox didn't answer. He'd assigned him outdoor chores to do today because the weather was good. In fact, he'd given Fox a list to last through the weekend and he knew the boy's nature well enough to know he'd try to get as much of it done as possible today so he'd have more time off later.
Skinner walked in the front door, stopping to look at the mail Fox had left on the table in the foyer. "Fox!" he called out. "I'm home. Want to go get some dinner? Your pick." The dog bounded in from the family room so Skinner knew Fox was there. Yoda stayed in the garage when neither of them was home.
No answer returned and the A.D. started toward the back of the house, knowing the young man was probably in the yard. But the doorbell behind him rang and he made a quick turn and returned to answer the door. He was startled to find two Virginia State troopers at the door.
"Mr. Skinner?" the older one asked.
"Yes. What can I do for you, officers?"
"May we come in, sir?" the sargeant asked.
Skinner was puzzled now. And worried. "Is something wrong?" He pulled his FBI badge out of the pocket of his jacket and saw the officers check it out, then exchange a look that signalled their surprise and mutual concern.
"Perhaps we should go inside--" the officer began again but Skinner interrupted him.
"Officers, please. I'd like to know what brings you here," he asked politely but firmly. The undertone of authority served its purpose.
"Sir, there's been an accident. Your son and some friends were involved in a collision on Route 95--"
"What?" Skinner interjected immediately. "That's impossible! Fox is home. I spoke to him earlier. . . ." His voice trailed off as he went to the back of the house and opened the rear door. Then he yelled out into the yard. "Fox!" No answer was forthcoming and he tried once again. Fighting panic, he went to the bottom of the stairs and hollered up. "Fox! Get down here! Right now!"
Silence mocked him in answer to his calls and so A.D. ran up the stairs two at a time and went immediately to the boy's room. It was empty and he jogged from door to door, checking every room. No one was there. All the nerve endings in his body were jumping as he attempted to move one leg in front of the other and descend the stairs. Reaching the bottom, he suddenly feared his legs might collapse beneath him.
The younger officer saw his distress and reached out a hand to help him but Skinner shook him off. "I'm all right," he said angrily. "And Fox wasn't out in a car today. He was grounded. I spoke to him earlier. . . ."
"Well, we have several eyewitnesses, including someone who said he was a close friend," the sargeant said quietly, opening his notebook and checking the details. "A boy named Jarrod Kelley. He said Fox was with Dylan Kane, Cathleen Halsey and Delia Westley. Drinking vodka and beer. And they decided to drive to Richmond."
Skinner's legs turned to jelly and he sat down heavily on one of the steps. "Where is he?" he asked suddenly. "Is he all right?"
The officer hesitated a moment and the A.D.'s heart shattered into the silence. No one in law enforcement would misinterpret the reality behind that pause.
Clearing his throat, the sargeant continued. "The convertible they were last seen in tried to outrun a police cruiser. It hit a concrete wall at over a hundred miles an hour and burst into flame. . . . There were no survivors."
McLean, Virginia
8:15 p.m.
Special Agent Dana Scully jumped out of the back of the police car that had been sent to get her. She had no idea why she'd been asked here by Skinner but her instincts told her it wasn't an invitation to dinner. She jogged up the driveway and onto the front porch of the safe house. There were two police cruisers parked on the street in addition to the one she'd arrived in. And another car and Skinner's jeep were parked in the driveway.
Her heart racing, Scully flashed her ID at the officer at the front door and hurried inside. The Assistant Director was sitting on a couch in the living room and a pretty, dark-haired woman was sitting beside him, her arm draped protectively across his back. His face was in his hands but he looked up as she entered, as if sensing her approach, and rose immediately.
"Agent Scully," he began, his voice husky with emotion. "Dana--"
"What's wrong?" she asked him immediately, glancing around the place. "Where's Mulder? I mean, Fox? Is he all right?"
Skinner approached her and took both of her hands into his own. In halting, emotion-laden language he told her the facts and then he held her as her body weight crashed into his chest, nearly knocking what little breath he had left out of him.
"No!" she cried, shaking her head violently. "No! That can't be true! That can't . . . . Please! Oh, God, please don't let him be dead!"
The A.D. held her, tears burning his own eyes as she cried out her anguish and pain. "I know," he said softly, trying to find a core of strength to offer her and knowing he was failing abjectly. Just as he'd failed to protect Mulder. "I'm sorry, Dana. I'm so . . . very sorry."
End of Chapter 34