Take 2 - Part 35
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: A miracle of sorts brings Skinner and Scully to an understanding.
McClean, Virginia
9:12 p.m.
Yoda poked Skinner's arm insistently with his snout, trying to get the man's attention. The dog had grown anxious and agitated as more people streamed into the house in the wake of the news. Whenever there was noise outside the house he ran to the front door to look for Fox, his tail wagging expectantly. When someone else appeared, he'd wander back to Skinner.
First the agent in charge of the security team had come in, right after the police cars showed up. Fiona had arrived next. She'd been notified of the accident by the police. The license plate the state trooper had gotten off the car led them to Dylan's family. They hadn't known who he was with but suggested Jarrod Kelley as a possibility, believing he and Dylan were still friends. Once the police knew the four kids in the car were students at the Wheatley Academy they called Fiona as they began the process of informing the other families.
Shocked and grief-stricken, she'd driven straight over to the McClean house, to offer whatever comfort was possible in the face of such senseless tragedy. Then Scully arrived, summoned by Skinner. And another police car, this one carrying a Captain from the local station. Once he'd heard an Assistant Director from the FBI had lost a son in the accident, a personal appearance seemed in order.
Skinner was sitting on the couch now, staring into space. The chaos in the house escaped his notice because the thunderous sound of his own elevated blood pressure and rapidly beating heart drowned it all out. He stroked the dog's head absent-mindedly, then his gaze fell to Yoda's face. Two brown eyes stared at him questioningly and he swore there was great sadness there, too. As if the dog knew the awful truth. "I know, boy," he said softly. "I know."
Scully had stepped into the hall bathroom to splash some water on her face. She returned a moment later and sat down on the chair near Skinner. She looked like she wanted to say something but nothing adequate came to mind and she sank back into the soft cushions despondently.
Fiona entered just behind her, carrying two glasses of ice water. She handed one to Skinner and offered the other to Scully before sitting down next to the Assistant Director. She placed a hand on his arm and waited for him to look at her. When he did, she spoke softly.
"Walter, let me help. Can I call anyone?"
He stared at her blankly for a moment, then shook his head. "I . . . . No. I have to do this myself. I need to tell Teena Mulder. And my family . . . ." His voice broke as he spoke and he jerked his head to the side, and closed his eyes.
"Sir," Scully cut in. "Would you like me to speak to Mrs. Mulder?"
Skinner shook his head again, still fighting to get a handle on his emotions. "No, Dana," he answered emphatically after another long moment. "I have to do it. She left him with me, expecting me to keep him from harm. I . . . have to tell her. And I have to do it in person." He rose, as though he were about to leave to do exactly that at the moment. "I have to let my folks know. I can't tell them on the phone . . . ."
Fiona rose also and slipped her hand into his. "Walter, you can't be two places at once," she said quietly. "I'll call Joe. He can tell your parents while you go to Greenwich."
Skinner nodded briefly. "You're right, of course. I can't do both. But I'll call Joe," he said as Fiona put her arms around his waist and pulled him into a comforting hug. "I . . . it's my responsibility--" His voice broke and he closed his eyes and squeezed Fiona, trying to hold back the deluge of tears that was barely contained behind his weakening defenses.
Just down the block, a sedan slowed down and pulled over. There were two passengers in the car, a white-haired older woman and a teenage boy. "This is fine, ma'am," the boy said hurriedly. "And thanks for the ride. I really appreciate it."
The woman smiled at him. She reminded him of his grandmother, he thought. The elderly woman had picked him up on the side of the road, saying that despite all the warnings about hitch-hikers, she could spot a nice young man in need of help. Which he was. Now part of him wished he'd held out for a ride from someone who drove a little faster, though.
"You take care of yourself, young man," she said as he opened the car door and got out. The youth leaned back down and looked through the open door. He was long and lanky but he moved with an athletic grace that banished the awkward clumsiness typical of boys his age.
"You, too, ma'am," he answered with a shy smile. "Bye." He slammed the door and jogged down the street toward his house. Checking his watch once again, his heart nearly seized and he began to pray the budget meeting had gone later than expected. He might still be able to get home and in the house before -- "Oh, shit!"
The sprawling modern house was surrounded by police cars and the A.D.'s jeep sat in the long driveway, with another car beside it. He knew immediately that one belonged to Fiona Barefoot. (Oh, God! I'm in so much trouble!)
Fox stopped halfway down the block and leaned against a large oak tree, trying to decide what to do next. His legs trembled at the thought of what his father would do to him, under the circumstances. He'd left no note, the man must have thought he'd been kidnapped. Or run away again. Skinner must have called the authorities and now he'd be embarrassed and angry. (Fox, you are in deep, deep shit!)
The young man stayed there a few minutes before finding the fortitude to take the additional steps that would take him home. The thought of running in the other direction was foremost in his mind but some streak of common sense and self-discipline overrode that instinct and he walked slowly up the driveway and in through the open front door. A policeman was standing on the front steps but the young officer simply stepped aside and let him enter, thinking he was a visitor.
Fox stepped into the foyer and glanced around anxiously, taking note of the number of people but searching first for Skinner. He saw him in the living room, his arms around Fiona and they both looked . . . upset. And Dana sat in a chair nearby, staring at the floor.
"Dad?" he called tentatively. All sound in the room, even breathing, stopped immediately. Only Yoda moved. In his usual pattern, he raced up to the boy and stood on his hind legs, looking to be petted.
"Fox?" Skinner whispered, lifting his head from where it was resting atop Fiona's. He caught sight of the boy standing pensively at the entry to the living room but he had a split second of hesitation, fearing his grief was causing him to hallucinate. Then the man strode rapidly in his direction and the boy's eyes widened with fear that he was going to be punished here, in front of all of these people. He was immensely startled when he was pulled into a hug that almost cut off his breathing.
"Thank God! You're all right," the A.D. said, his voice husky with tears. He caressed the back of the boy's head with one hand and kept a death grip on him with the other.
"Are you Fox Skinner?" the police captain asked the boy and Fox nodded over the man's shoulder. "Were you with--"
He was stopped when Skinner turned and held up his hand in a halt gesture. The A.D. shook his head, knowing they needed to get some information from Fox but that they had to do it before the young man knew all the details of what had happened. And before he had enough information to figure it out on his own. He turned back to the confused young man.
"Fox, where have you been?" he asked softly. "I know you left the house. Tell me where you went and what you did."
The boy looked puzzled by the question. He expected anger. And punishment. And instead he was being gently interrogated. And all of these people in the house seemed to be hanging on his every word. The situation confused and frightened him but he looked at Skinner and let his trust in the man guide him.
"I went out. I know I wasn't supposed to but . . . . " His voice caught and he stopped speaking.
"That's okay, son," the A.D. told him. "Just tell me what happened."
Fox glanced anxiously around the room and Skinner put a hand on either of his shoulders to regain his attention. "Just talk to me, Fox."
"Well, Cat came over. With Dylan and Delia. And we went to Papa Joe's by the school. I thought I'd only be gone an hour or two," he added, trying to make it sound better in some small way.
"And then?" Skinner prodded him gently.
"And then we-- Cat thought it would be cool to go to Richmond. To Edgar Allen Poe's house. And . . . and stay overnight. Because we have no school tomorrow," he added, looking to Fiona. Tears were pooled in her eyes and he bit his lip, not sure what he'd said to cause such a reaction. "And it's almost Halloween . . . ." His voice trailed off as though he'd lost his train of thought.
"Go on, Fox," Skinner said, recapturing the boy's focus. "What happened then?"
Fox paused, trying to decide how much to tell. There were police here as well as his father and he didn't want to get his friends in trouble. "We started to go. And . . . and then I thought I better not. Because I'm grounded and you'd be mad. And . . . ," he hesitated once more.
"Was Dylan drinking?" Skinner probed again. "Tell me the truth, Fox."
The boy's eyes toured the room once more and then he dropped his voice to barely more than a whisper. "Yes, sir," he said, choking up. "I told him he shouldn't be driving. That he was too drunk to drive. And we had a bad fight! He said I was a . . . a jerk. And a wuss. And Cat took his side and . . . . Everybody was mad at me. I told them to drop me off and they did, on the side of the road. I tried to get Cat and Delia to come with me, but they wouldn't. They said I was . . . . " His voice cracked. "I had to walk back to a main road. And then I hitched a ride home and it took a long time. . . . Something's wrong, isn't it? Did Dylan get arrested, Dad?"
He'd added up all the evidence and come to the conclusion that Dylan and the others must have been stopped by the police after he'd left them. "Is he in trouble?"
Skinner pulled him back into an embrace that nearly squeezed all the air out of him. Over the boy's shoulder, he caught the attention of the police captain. "I think that's all he can tell you," he said quietly.
The police filed out, accompanied by the FBI agent in charge of the security detail. But the sergeant who'd originally contacted Skinner remained. "We'll probably have a few more questions for him tomorrow," he said slowly after garnering the A.D.'s attention.
"Not until tomorrow, Sergeant," Skinner said. "And thank you. . . . for everything."
Fox's head turned to the police officer as the two men spoke. Something was not right about this situation but he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was.
After the sergeant departed, Fiona walked over to where the man and boy were standing and kissed Fox on the cheek. She cupped his face in her hands and told him how glad she was that he was all right.
"I'd better be going," she said to Skinner cryptically. "I'll have to coordinate the plan to notify our students. And we'll need counselors available for the other kids." She glanced at Fox briefly, then turned her gaze back to Skinner. "I'll speak to you in the morning."
They exchanged a brief kiss and she left. Only Scully remained and she appeared too stunned and emotionally wrung out to move. She watched Skinner and Fox and wondered how the hell the man would tell this boy what had happened to his friends.
"Fox," he began, pushing the boy back to arm's length so he could make eye contact. "I have some bad news."
"Dylan did get arrested! Is he in jail? And Cat and Delia? They were drinking, but they weren't driving, Dad--"
"No, Fox," he interjected softly. "There was an accident. The car was going very fast. And it hit a wall and caught fire. . . . No one survived who was in the car--"
The boy failed to react at first but then his face registered shock and horror in a fleeting second and his knees went out from under him. Skinner's arms locked and slowed his fall, then the man sank to his knees and pulled him into the circle of his arms as Fox collapsed into wracking sobs against his chest. The Assistant Director held him for what seemed like hours, gently rocking him and making soothing noises. Yoda came over to them and at first tried to elicit someone's attention. Then he whimpered softly and laid down beside them, his eyes alert for some danger he could intercept.
Skinner rubbed the boy's back and continued to speak to him softly. "Shhh," he said over and over. "I know. I know it hurts. Just let it out. It's all right to cry, Fox. Just let it go. . . ."
Finally, the young man's grief was spent for the moment and he seemed drained of all emotion. Skinner stood and pulled him to his feet. Fox was like an automaton, allowing himself to be led, trusting the A.D. to make decisions for him. They went up the stairs and Skinner helped him to bed and waited until he'd fallen asleep. Then he spent a long minute sitting on the side of the boy's bed, just listening to him breathe, offering silent thanks that he'd made it home unharmed. It was a miracle for which he'd be eternally grateful, an answered prayer in a world where there was little evidence anyone was even listening.
He found Scully in the kitchen when he came downstairs. She had filled the kettle and it was heating on the stovetop.
"I needed a little something to calm my nerves," she said quietly. "I hope you don't mind."
Skinner shook his head and opened the door to the freezer. He took out a bottle and two shot glasses that were sitting on the shelf in the freezer door. He put the iced glasses on the table and opened the bottle. "Honey vodka," he said by way of explanation. "My Dad makes it. . . . I'm afraid I need something a little stronger than tea." He poured two glasses and placed one in front of Scully. Then he threw his head back and downed the shot he'd poured for himself.
Scully took a sip, then smiled gratefully. "This is delicious."
"Yeah. An old family recipe that my Dad hasn't passed on to any of us yet. Not that I think I'll have time to be making flavored vodka any time soon."
Scully thought that he probably didn't believe he had time to raise a child six months ago but somehow that time had been found, when it was needed. She took another sip as Skinner poured himself another shot. "He looks . . . . almost like Mulder now," she said quietly. "I haven't seen him in a while and . . . it's amazing how fast he's grown."
"We've missed you, Dana," Skinner answered quietly, staring at his glass. "I'm sorry-"
"No! I'm the one who's sorry," she interjected. "I didn't handle all of this very well. It's so bizarre and . . . . I didn't know how to react. But thank God you were here for him. I see that now. I watched you with him tonight and . . . he's lucky you were there--"
"I don't know about that," Skinner replied still staring into the clear liquid. "I promised to keep him safe and I almost lost him tonight. But for a fluke, a quirk of fate, he'd be dead . . . ." His voice cracked and he pressed his lips together in a gesture Scully recognized from countless stressful moments with the Assistant Director over the years.
"No, you're wrong," she assured him, laying a hand on top of his. "I think you saved his life. He left the others because he was worried you'd be mad. He said it himself. And I'm certain there was probably a little healthy fear of punishment--"
Skinner shook his head violently, but she continued, forcefully. "I'm right," she said. "This is Mulder we're talking about, sir. When do you think he would ever have passed up a chance to spend Halloween weekend at Edgar Allen Poe's house?"
Skinner's mouth turned up a little at the corners but his smile was a sad one. "Yeah. You have a point, I guess.
But still, he shouldn't have been with them. I let that go too long . . . "
They each had another shot of vodka, then Skinner convinced Scully to stay for the night. "We have an extra bedroom and you don't have a car here," he told her. "I'd drive you home but I don't want to leave Fox alone."
She agreed that would be a mistake and Skinner showed her to the large guest room that faced the back of the house. He gave her a clean, faded FBI tee-shirt to wear to bed and thanked her again for coming when he called. "I'm sorry to have put you through this, Dana," he told her quietly.
"No, don't apologize," she answered. "If something had happened to him . . . . I'm glad you thought to call me."
Several hours later, Scully awoke with a start, the sound of anguished screams ringing in her ears. She rose quickly and grabbed her gun, then headed out of the guestroom. As she crept down the hallway, she realized it was Mulder she'd heard, having a nightmare. She was acquainted with his penchant for nightmares from traveling with him but this time his terrified pleas seemed even more heartbreaking. Scully opened the door to the boy's bedroom slowly.
Skinner was sitting on the edge of his bed, holding him and speaking to him in reassuring tones. There was a blanket tossed over the chair in Fox's bedroom and she realized immediately that the A.D. must have been sleeping there, expecting something of this nature to happen.
"It was my fault," Fox babbled almost incoherently. "I should have tried h-harder to stop them! I knew something bad would happen and I just left!"
"No, you didn't, son," Skinner told him in his calmest tone. "You tried to tell them but they wouldn't listen. They made their own choice and--"
"No! You don't understand! I got m-mad when Dylan called me a wimp. I said if they wanted to do something stupid, fine. And I was leaving! I could have tried harder b-but I didn't. . . ."
Skinner held him as he continued to sob and when the boy's crying began to lessen, he spoke again. "Fox, listen to me. You told Dylan he shouldn't be drinking and driving. You asked Cat and Delia if they wanted to come back with you. And then you made a good decision. That what they were doing was wrong and you weren't going along. No one could have done more, kid. You tried your best. And I'm proud of you," he stopped, his voice breaking from emotional overload. "And I'm so grateful that you're okay. I love you, son. And if anything happened to you, I don't know what I'd do . . . ."
Fox sobbed again and Scully saw him tighten his hold on Skinner's back. Tears filled her own eyes and she backed out of the room, knowing neither of them had seen her there. She closed the door silently behind her and went back to bed.
Tomorrow there would be things to do, people to speak to and lots of issues to deal with. Tonight, Fox was in the place he needed to be, with the one person he needed to be with. Scully knew suddenly and without a doubt that this second childhood of Mulder's had happened for a reason, and she was filled with a sense of awe that it had worked out in the best way possible. The man who returned to her, to the X-files, would be better for this experience and she fell asleep thinking that, whenever that finally happened, she'd owe the Assistant Director a big debt of gratitude.
End of Chapter 35