Take 2 - Part 36
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: In the aftermath of tragedy, Fox and Skinner head to Danville for a family wedding.
McLean, Virginia
12:33 a.m. on Friday
Walter Skinner woke suddenly, disturbed by unexpected movement somewhere nearby. He picked his head up and realized his bedroom door had opened, throwing a shaft of light into the room from the dim fixture at the end of the hallway. Even without glasses he could see Fox silhouetted in the doorway. It was the first time tonight the boy had looked in but he'd done it several times each of the previous nights as well.
"Fox," he called just as the door was closing again.
"I-- I'm sorry! I didn't mean to wake you," a taut voice answered. "I just wanted to make sure . . . I mean I was just checking-- . I couldn't sleep is all."
"It's okay, son," Skinner said calmly. He knew the boy hadn't been sleeping. The dark circles under his eyes and the drawn, haunted look on his face every day made that abundantly clear, even if the A.D. wasn't actually listening to him walk the floors several times a night. It had been that way since last weekend, when Fox's friends were killed in an auto accident. In a car he had only exited only twenty minutes before. The young man had had nightmares the first two nights after the accident and since then he'd barely slept at all, as far as the A.D. could tell.
Skinner was growing worried and had spoken to Scully and the pediatrician who'd been seeing Fox since his second childhood had begun. Even though he was now a young man of eighteen or so, the two physicians had a comprehensive knowledge of his situation and understood his current emotional turmoil. They'd both concurred that medication was a last resort. "Kids this age bounce back fast," Dr. Bentley had said. "Unless this doesn't appear to be getting better, I don't like to prescribe sleeping pills to a boy this age."
Skinner looked at the drawn face in the dim light now and decided he'd call the doctor again tomorrow. This didn't appear to be getting any better at all.
Fox shivered in the doorway and started to step back into the hall and close the door. But before he could complete the action, Skinner raised the comforter on the bed, a silent invitation to the boy to come in and get under the covers. Fox hesitated a second, then quick-stepped over and slipped under the covers.
"I didn't mean to wake you, Dad," he said again as he settled in and laid his head on the two pillows on that side of the bed.
"It's okay, pal," the man said quietly. "I would have been up checking on you if you hadn't come in. Why don't you try to get some sleep?"
"I can't sleep," the kid responded quickly, a note of defensiveness rising in his voice. "I-- I try and I try. But I can't." He seemed agitated and looked like he might just try to escape the additional scrutiny at any moment.
"Well, maybe you're trying too hard, kid. Let's just talk a while then," the Assistant Director said, plumping his own pillows up. He crooked an arm under his head and laid his head down on top, facing in Fox's direction.
"Okay. . . . What do you want to talk about?" Fox asked him curiously. A yawn rose and nearly drowned out the last two words of his sentence.
"Whatever's on your mind."
There was an extended silence as Fox appeared to be thinking about what might be on his mind, then a sound in the open doorway captured both of the their attention. The dog stopped before entering and checked out the situation, his ears perked up as if on alert.
"Hi, boy," Fox called, patting the bed between him and Skinner. Yoda bounded across the room and jumped up onto the king-size mattress. "He doesn't like to sleep alone," Fox offered as another yawn nearly overwhelmed him.
Skinner nodded silently as Yoda made himself comfortable, pawing the comforter until he'd created a nice little nest in the space between Skinner and the boy. (And I, on the other hand, love a crowd.) The A.D. shifted his position over a little more, to give the boy and dog adequate room, and silently thanked whoever it was who invented the king-size mattress.
On the other side of the bed Fox snuggled a little further under the covers and his eyes fluttered to a close. Skinner sighed with relief. Despite his earlier protest about not being able to sleep, the young man's breathing slowed to a steady rhythm and he quickly fell into a deep slumber.
It had only taken a couple of minutes and suddenly the Assistant Director's bed was crowded. But it was also a haven for the boy at a time when his peace of mind was at issue. The truth of that was evidenced by how quickly he had fallen asleep just now in the protected confines of his father's bed, and for that Skinner was immensely grateful. In another minute, all three of them were sleeping soundly for the first time in several nights.
The Pennsylvania Turnpike
3:40 p.m. on Friday
Skinner glanced in the rear view mirror and saw Fox was still dozing in the back seat. Fiona Barefoot sat beside him and she watched his eyes flicker to the mirror, a worried look on his face. She glanced over her shoulder and smiled with relief when she saw he'd finally nodded off. She'd seen the young man grow more exhausted-looking all week but when she arrived at the house earlier today, he seemed slightly better, but listless and lacking his usual energy.
"How is he?" she softly asked the man next to her.
"He finally got a good night's rest last night. But it didn't make up for all the sleepless nights before. I let him sleep until almost noon and if we hadn't had to leave for Danville, I'd have let him sleep the weekend away. He needs it."
Fiona nodded. "I was surprised to see you both at all the funerals this week. It had to be a strain on him."
"He was insistent," Skinner sighed. "He knew Cat and Dylan pretty well. He didn't know Delia very long but he felt it was important, under the circumstances. And Jean-Phillippe's funeral, well, that was a gesture of respect for the Montreaux family, particularly Marie-Claire. I couldn't argue with him on that one."
The police had been confounded at first by the fact there were four burned bodies in the wrecked car. When Fox had come strolling into the McLean house a few hours after the accident, they'd left hurriedly to see if they could identify the fourth passenger and notify next-of-kin. In a few hours, they'd pieced it all together. It seemed the other three kids had met up with Jean-Phillippe at a rest stop just after they dropped off Fox. The French boy was a freshman at the University of Virginia, having graduated from the Wheatley Academy the year before. He decided to take the drive with them and died in the accident not long after getting in the car.
His younger sister Marie-Claire was a schoolmate of Fox's, and was his first real crush in this second childhood. At least, she had been, a few short weeks ago when he was passing 14 or 15. As he grew, he'd moved on to Cat Halsey but when Fox heard Jean-Phillippe had died in the car, he'd insisted on attending the funeral. It had been a beautiful service in the National Cathedral, then the the Montreaux family had taken the boy's body home to Paris for burial.
Skinner was unsure even now that allowing Fox to go to all of the funerals had been a good idea. But forbidding it seemed pointless and would have denied him some degree of closure. So instead, the AD taken the week off and accompanied Fox to every single service. And stayed with him each night as he walked the floors of their home, trying to dispel his sense of depression and helplessness at the tragic fate of his friends.
"I hope the wedding this weekend will get his mind off everything," Skinner concluded. The AD's nephew, Doug, was being married this weekend. To Emily, a kindergarten teacher from a town just down the road. They had asked Fox and Joe's son Mike to serve as "co-best men" and the Skinner girls were all in the wedding party, too. Brian and Haley were serving as ring bearer and flower girl. It would be an all Skinner family wedding party, since Emily was an only child. Only Griffin was being left home with a babysitter and that was because he was still only six months old.
"It sounds like it's going to be a lovely wedding," Fiona agreed. "And it will give Fox something to focus on, after the horrible events of the past week." She reached over and laid a hand on Skinner's forearm and he looked at her curiously. "And I'm so glad you invited me, Walter. I don't think I told you that but . . . I'm really happy to be here."
"I'm kind of glad myself," he said, turning his gaze back to the highway, then glancing back at her with a small smile. "I . . . I have to admit, it was Fox's idea. . . . And my mother's. And Nora's. And Eileen's. And Joe's . . . . "
Fiona's laugh glittered like gold in the morning sunshine and Skinner felt his heart lighten for the first time in more than week.
The Skinner Home
Danville, Pennsylvania
Friday evening
The house was filled with Skinners of all ages, and the chaos that always came with them. Andy and Eileen and their three kids were staying at the family home, along with Skinner and Fox, and Fiona. Joe's son, Mike was also staying there too, having been ousted from his bedroom by relatives from Oliver's side of the family who were staying at his parents' home because Jean and Oliver's house was already packed. He and Fox had been given Andy and Joe's old room and Fiona was staying in the study that generally doubled as Fox's room when he was there.
Rachel was watching Brian and Haley in the bath as their parents and Walter and Fiona got ready to go out for the evening. The four Skinner siblings liked to get together a couple of times a year for dinner. This time, Jean and Oliver were unable to make it because of their son Doug's wedding the next day and having all of Oliver's family together. Unlike the Skinners, the Dawsons were a far-flung bunch and didn't see each other more than once every few years.
So Andy, and Joe and their wives, and Skinner and Fiona had made plans to have a quiet dinner in a restaurant in a nearby inn, and Rachel and Walter, Sr. would hold down the fort at home. The older man thought the term 'holding down the fort' seemed particularly apropos tonight. It was beginning to sound like the house was under siege.
"Dad?" Skinner called into the family room. "You sure you and Mom will be all right alone? Fiona and I could cancel dinner and stay with you." He wandered into the room as he buttoned the top button on his crisp white shirt, a worried look on his face. An understated blue silk tie hung loose around his neck waiting to be knotted.
"Don't be silly," his father laughed, trying to be heard over the sound of gunfire on the video Fox and Mike were watching. "We raised five kids. There are five here tonight. We'll be fine."
"Yeah, but it's been a lot of years since you had five under the roof at once, Dad," Skinner replied. "And two teenagers, two little ones and a baby. That's a handful."
"The little ones will all be asleep soon. And these two," he said, gesturing toward the boys, "are fine. They keep each other company. No work for me or your mother. You and your brothers don't get enough opportunities to spend time together, you shouldn't pass one up." The two boys were engrossed in the movie and didn't notice they were the subject of the conversation.
Skinner nodded, then walked back into the hallway and began tying his tie. His gut told him his father was correct but . . . . "I know you're right, Dad. I just worry too much, I guess."
At that moment Fiona came down the stairs behind him dressed in a dazzling silver blue sheath with a matching sweater in her hands. She wrapped an arm around Walter's waist, and gave him a sunny smile. "You're right about that," she said, and she winked at Mr. Skinner. "But admitting you have a problem is the first step, they say."
Skinner laughed immediately. "Okay, I give up. We'll just go and let you and Mom get things under control," the A.D. told his father. He took his suit jacket off the back of a chair just as Andy and Eileen came down the stairs dressed for the evening. "We're meeting Nora and Joe at the restaurant. It's the "Candlelight Inn." The number's right here, in case you need us. And we'll be home by midnight."
Fiona's eyes lit up and she worked hard to keep from grinning. "It may not be too late," she told him with mock seriousness. "Maybe there's a 12-step program we can get you in. . . ."
They were gone less than an hour when Mike and Fox went looking for their grandfather. "There's nothing on TV," Mike said when they located him working on something in the basement. "Is it okay if we go into town and get another video?"
"What happened to the one you were watching?" he asked them curiously.
"All the good stuff's over," Fox explained. "Nothing but mushy stuff left."
Mr. Skinner smiled and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He had noticed them fast-forwarding a good bit but hadn't thought about why. No wonder the movie was over so fast.
"We'll just go to the video place," Mike added, guessing what his grandfather was thinking. "And maybe get some ice cream. Then we'll come right back.
"Well, what would your Dads say about going into town at this hour?" the older man asked them.
"My Dad would be okay with it," Mike answered immediately. But Fox's eyes shifted to the floor and he bit his lower lip.
"Well. . . . " he replied slowly. "My Dad would probably say no. . . ."
Mr. Skinner nodded, guessing that might be the truth. But he thought his son was a little too much of a worrier sometimes and . . . such honesty deserved reward. "Well, he's not here and he left me in charge," he said emphatically. "And I think it's all right. Provided you come right back after the ice cream."
"Really?" Fox exclaimed, his eyes lighting with appreciation. "Wow! I promise we will." He and Mike headed for the basement stairs.
"And one more thing before you go, boys," their grandfather said firmly. "I want you to drive carefully. Do you hear me, Michael Alexei?"
"Yes, sir," Mike replied, nodding. "I will."
An hour and a half later, Rachel had decided to turn in for the night. The little ones were sound asleep and had not stirred since they'd been put to bed. Walter, Sr. glanced at the clock and started calculating how long it might take to drive to the video store, stop at the ice cream place, and return. He was on the cusp of worry but decided it would be unproductive and unnecessary. He chose to take Yoda for a walk instead, knowing the exercise would be good for both of them and give him a half hour reprieve before he would need to start being concerned.
At the same moment Fox and Mike pulled the car over on the side of the road not far away. Mike had spotted a car that belonged to a friend of his parked on the roadside as they drove back and, when the car proved to be unoccupied, Mike realized his friends had to be at 'the clearing.' "It's just a big open area inside a stand of trees," he said as he and Fox headed in that direction. "There's a big log there. And the kids from this area hang out there. They have since my Dad was a kid."
They trudged over and found a group of Mike's friends and some others doing exactly that. There was a cooler with some beer in it and in a moment both boys found themselves with a cold brew. Fox took a slug of his but Mike merely held onto the bottle. He was driving and his father would have his head if he drove under the influence of alcohol. He'd learned that lesson the hard way a while back.
A girl named Pam sat down next to him and Fox and began talking to them both. They spent a pleasant few minutes and Mike handed her his untouched beer, telling her he wasn't thirsty. She took it, then pulled a pack of cigarettes out of her handbag and offered Fox and Michael one each. Fox's eyes widened, but he reached out and took one. Mike watched him curiously, then did the same. When Pam turned in the other direction to 'get a light,' he used the moment to question Fox. "Do you smoke?"
"N-no," Fox whispered back immediately. "But I saw pictures of myself at my Mom's house. Pictures of me when I was grown up and I was smoking. So I know I used to."
Mike didn't remember ever seeing Mulder smoke but he shrugged it off. Pam held out a lighter and they both lit up, then Fox nearly choked as he drew in the smoke for the first time. The boy did his best to cover his surprise at the sensation and Mike nearly fell over trying to cover the laugh that rose from inside of him at the sight of Fox's distress.
Fox was just regaining his ability to breathe when Yoda came bounding up and jumped up and all over him. 'Hi, boy," he said, shocked. "How did you get here?"
It dawned on Mike faster than Fox. "Uh-oh," he said, looking up just as his grandfather strolled into the clearing.
"Oh, God," Fox breathed beside him. Both boys were too paralyzed to even think of ditching the lit cigarettes in their hands, or the bottle of beer Fox held.
"Good evening, everyone," Mr. Skinner boomed. "Didn't realize this clearing was still used for hanging out. And drinking." He gave his grandsons a pointed look. "Well, I guess I better be getting home. It's getting late. I'll see you boys there." He motioned for the dog to follow him and Yoda gave Fox one puzzled look then bounded after the older man as he headed off. Mr. Skinner had appeared completely nonchalant but neither young man was deceived.
They fully understood the meaning behind his words. But for a couple of minutes neither of them moved. The lit cigarettes burned down without ever reaching their lips and Fox put his beer bottle down on the ground without taking another sip. His stomach was doing flip-flops and he wasn't certain he could actually stand if he tried.
"Well, my cousin's getting married tomorrow," Mike announced to the crowd suddenly. "Fox and I are in the wedding party. So we better be getting home, too." He stood and waited for Fox to do the same. But the other boy merely stared at him, as though he had failed to understand what his cousin was saying. As though it were a foreign language or something.
"Fox?" Mike said, beginning to worry. "Let's go."
Fox stared at him blankly and Mike finally reached over and pulled him up by the sleeve of his jacket. "Let's go," he whispered insistently. "Before this gets any worse."
Fox rose and began to follow him numbly. "How could it get any worse?"
They returned to the car, then drove the half mile or so to the Skinner place in tense silence. When they got there, they exited the car and Fox began to woodenly ascend the steps to the house.
"Fox," Mike called after him.
"What?" the other boy asked, hoping against hope Mike was about to say they could head for the hills instead. But Mike was decidedly not running away. He was facing in the direction of the woodshed and Fox could see the light was on inside the structure. His heart sank to the tops of his shoes.
He found himself following Mike down the path to judgment a moment later, although it was nothing more than reflex that got him there. They stepped into the shed and found Mr. Skinner there, leaning against the workbench, his arms crossed over his chest in a posture both Mike and Fox knew too well. Both their fathers often assumed it.
"Well, gentlemen," the older man said, gesturing with his head to indicate Fox should close the door. "What do you have to say for yourselves?"
"I didn't drink any beer, Gran!" Mike blurted out immediately. "You have to believe me! I . . . I wouldn't do that again. Not after . . . the last time. . . ." His voice faded, worry and panic etched on his face.
Walter, Sr. eyed him carefully. Mike was not a liar, it wasn't in his nature. And his son had told him about the incident to which Michael was referring, and he'd been aware of the long punishment tour that had followed it. He nodded his head to indicate he believed Mike.
"And what about you, Fox?" he said, turning to the other boy.
"I-- I--," the young man stammered. "I . . . took a couple of sips of beer. I didn't think-- I didn't want them to think I was, um. . . I didn't mean to! It just . . . happened. But I didn't even drink half!" He glanced around the shed nervously, his eyes lighting on the razor strop hanging in the corner. "And I wasn't driving!" he added frantically, hoping to mitigate the situation with anything he that might help his case.
"I see. Well, your honesty is to be commended, Fox. If not your judgment. Now, tell me about the cigarettes. When did you boys start to smoke?"
Mike and Fox looked at each other guiltily, neither one of them wanting to answer that question. "I don't smoke, Gran," Mike finally answered. "I tried it once and I didn't like it. I don't know what made me take one tonight when Pam offered it. And Fox definitely doesn't smoke. He almost choked to death tonight from his first puff!"
Fox looked a little embarrassed at the recollection but he held his silence.
Mr. Skinner nodded once again. "And what about your promise to come right home after getting ice cream and picking up a video? I don't think I heard anything about hanging out at the clearing?" He was familiar with what the kids called the area by the river. It was the same as when his kids had been teenagers. And still used for all the same purposes, apparently.
Both boys were staring at the floor now and neither answered.
"I asked you boys a question," the elderly man barked. His voice, and his presence, were still formidable and Fox and Mike jumped in unison.
"Y-yes, sir!" Fox said. "I'm sorry--"
"I know, sir," Mike answered at the same moment. "I'm sorry we disobeyed you!"
"Well. Sorry doesn't cut it, I'm afraid," Walter, Sr. said quietly, using a phrase he'd said countless times to his own boys. He began rolling up the cuffs on his plaid, flannel shirt, walking toward the hook where 'the Persuader' hung. "I think some punishment is in order. You know what to do."
He waited while both boys dropped their jeans and underwear to their knees, then leaned over the work bench. Now the older man was staring at two bare butts and he was suddenly struck by the fact he didn't know for sure which one of them was older at this point, which one deserved more punishment. Fox had been drinking and smoking but he wasn't driving. Mike was driving and he'd been the one to stop there at the clearing. Finally, the older man decided they were exactly the same age, and had each owned an even share of tonight's debacle.
"What's this strapping for gentlemen?" he asked as he laid the first lick on Mike's unblemished backside.
"For disobeying you! Ouchh!" the boy yelled.
Mr. Skinner added a matching stripe to Fox's bottom. "And?"
"And not coming right home! Owww!" Fox wailed.
"What else?" he asked as Mike got another two strokes.
"For smoking! Ohhh! I'm sorry, Gran!"
Two additional licks connected with Fox's posterior. "F-for smoking, too!" he cried, not even thinking about trying to maintain his dignity. "Ahhhh! Unhhh!"
"What else, Michael?" Two more burning licks were delivered and Michael was now sobbing, too. "What else did you do, Michael Alexei?"
"I stopped at the clearing! AHHHH! Fox didn't even know about it! I knew it would hold us up OUCCHH! but I did it anyway. It was my fault!"
And what about you, Fox William? What else did you do tonight to deserve this strapping?"
"I-- Drinking! OWWWW! For drinking! I'm sorry! OHHHHH!" He was sobbing now, too and Mr. Skinner knew the message had gotten through. He doubted either of them had taken more than a puff of their cigarettes. And he believed Fox had had only a couple of sips of his beer. And they both had to be in a wedding party tomorrow. He walked over and hung the strop back on its hook.
"That's it, boys," he said and bit the inside of his mouth to keep from laughing when both of his grandsons looked over their shoulders in shock. "Up you go. I don't want you both squirming in the pew at church tomorrow. Your grandmother would have my head!" He watched them both put their clothes back in place, then he pulled them into a hug at the same time.
"I hope this lesson isn't forgotten just because it was a short one," Mr. Skinner said firmly. "I can always be convinced to continue this at a later time."
"You won't have to, Gran," Mike said. "We get it."
"And what about you, Fox? Do you get it, too?" the older man asked. Then he felt a head nodding into his shoulder in response.
"Y-yes, sir," the boy answered. "I won't forget."
"Good. Now I want to see both of you in bed and asleep by the time I come upstairs. Skedaddle!" With either hand, he managed to give each boy's butt a sound smack as they headed for the door. Then he watched them run for the house, shaking his head as he turned out the light and began to walk back up the path. He'd made this journey more times than he could count with his own boys and now another generation was learning some of the important lessons of life in the same way. A sense of the rightness of the world descended over the older man as he climbed the steps of the porch and headed inside.
But when he headed for his own bed some twenty minutes later, he found himself repeating a routine he'd followed throughout his kid's lives. First he opened the door of the room Andy and Eileen were using, although they were not home yet. In the portable crib, little Griffin was sleeping soundly, his breathing soft and light.
Next he went to the room he and Mrs. Skinner had put Brian and Haley to sleep in a few hours earlier. Two sleep tousled heads peeked out from under the comforter in the bed in Jean's old room. Haley murmured in her sleep and he smiled as Brian responded, in his sleep. He closed the door behind him softly.
Then he went to the room Joe and Andy had shared until Walter moved out for good and Joe inherited a room of his own. The family continued to refer to it as Walter's room though and that had not changed to this day. There were two twin beds inside and he opened the door and saw Mike and Fox in them, just as he'd directed. The room was lit with the dim glow of the hall lamp but he could clearly make out two heads on pillows and the rhythmic sound of breathing. He sighed in satisfaction, finding all of his young charges were safely asleep. He had almost closed the door completely when the sound of a sniffle caught his attention. It had come from the side of the room where Fox was sleeping. Or not sleeping, it seemed.
Mr. Skinner opened the door again and advanced into the room, stopping next to the bed closest to the window. He could tell from the breathing behind him that Mike was already sound asleep. But another teary breath from Fox made him sit down on the side of the mattress. He saw Fox squeeze his eyes more tightly shut and he laid a hand on the boy's shoulder.
"What's wrong, son?"
Fox shook his head, clamping down on his lower lip so hard the older man thought he might draw blood. He gently turned the boy's face toward him. "Something's wrong, Fox," he whispered. "I'm not leaving until you talk to me about it."
"I--" the boy started, then he swallowed hard, trying to choke back the tears that were close to coming. "Please! Please don't tell my Dad! About tonight, I mean. Please!"
Mr. Skinner was taken aback. He shushed the boy gently, trying to get him to listen. "I'm not going to tell him anything, Fox," he said. "You're going to tell him. Because it's the right thing to do--"
"No!" he whispered back frantically. "Please don't make me tell him! I c-can't!"
Mr. Skinner was seriously worried now by the near-hysteria Fox was reaching. "Why? He won't punish you again, Fox. You've already been punished. I'll make sure he understands--"
"No! It's not that! I don't care if he p-punishes me! I mean, I do care! I don't want to be--" he nearly choked on the tears that were close to overwhelming him. "I just . . . . I know you don't know this about me but . . . I'm a lot of trouble. I'm . . . almost always in trouble. And my Dad, he c-can't even go to work half the time because of me. First I was a baby and nobody else would take me! Then we had to go to Nantucket! And he couldn't work much the whole summer! And th-then we had to move and. . . . Then I'm always in trouble! I'm always on a punishment tour!"
He hiccuped and let out a ragged, teary breath. The older man smiled and jumped into the breach, wanting to clear up the boy's misconceptions and exaggerations.
"Fox," he said gently. "That's called being a teenager."
"No! This is different. Last week he couldn't go to work at all because he had to go to a bunch of funerals with me. And I heard him on the phone, explaining to his boss why he couldn't go to work. And I think they were mad! I think he's in trouble and it's all my fault!" He sobbed as though his heart were breaking but he plowed on, not letting his grandfather get a word in edgewise.
"And now that I'm eighteen, he doesn't have to keep me any more! And I'm so much trouble, why would he want to? I don't want to go live alone in that apartment. I d-don't. . . . "
Walter, Sr. pulled the boy up into a fierce hug, the only way he knew to stop the stream of consciousness that was pouring from the young man. "It's okay, Foksik," he whispered soothingly. "It's okay. None of those things is going to happen, I promise you. Nobody's sending you away, certainly not your Dad. And if he tried to, he'd have me to answer to! And believe me, I'm a whole lot scarier than his boss!"
Fox exhaled raggedly, a half-sobbing, half laughing sound that made Mr. Skinner smile internally. He gently rubbed the back of the boy's head, continuing to calm him as he held him tightly.
"I don't know where you got the idea your Dad might send you away. I don't think anything could be further from the truth, son. I'll tell you something about parents. When our kids are in the most trouble, that's when we want them closest to us. That's the time you don't want them to go anywhere. And that's how the idea of a punishment tour was born! Your Dad doesn't want you to go live alone, believe me." There were many things of which the older man was certain and that was at the top of the list currently.
"B-but if I did go away, he could go back to work and not have to keep coming home early. Or go to my swim meets. Or rush home because I'm on a punishment tour and he wants to make sure I'm doing what I'm supposed to do. He wouldn't have so many problems! He told his boss I'm his top priority assignment right now."
Mr. Skinner was shocked to hear his son had referred to Fox as an 'assignment.' It was decidedly out of character for him. He pulled Fox tighter into his embrace as the boy's voice became teary again.
"And I think they told him I'm old enough to not need so much attention. And maybe live somewhere else, like my own apartment now!"
"And your Dad agreed with that?" his grandfather asked him, holding his breath for the answer.
"No," Fox responded slowly. "But if I'm so much trouble all the time, he will! That's why I can't t-tell him! Please!"
Walter, Sr. began to worry Fox would wake up Mike and he rose and pulled the covers up from the bed. "Come downstairs, Fox," he said with quiet authority. "We need to talk."
A few minutes later, they were sitting in the kitchen, two steaming mugs of hot cocoa with marshmallows before them. Fox's head hung and his face, what little of it could be seen, looked haggard and drawn. He was overtired and very worried.
"Drink, Fox. It will help you sleep. And listen to me." Mr. Skinner watched him take a sip, then look up. His face was tear-stained and his eyes were heavy.
"I don't know what you overheard but I know your Dad pretty well, don't I?" He waited until the boy had nodded in agreement. "Well, let me tell you something about him. He was a pretty good kid, your Dad. Very responsible. But not perfect. Not by a long-shot! And for a part of his teenage years, from the time he was almost sixteen until just past his seventeenth birthday, he was a holy terror!"
"Really?" Fox's head had snapped up immediately on hearing that and his eyes had widened with shock.
"Oh, yes. He argued with me about everything. Curfews. Rules. Everything."
"He told me about the curfew thing. And how he broke it every week," Fox broke in.
"He did? Well, that's true. I paddled him just about every Saturday night for a whole year I think! And that's when I told him to make that paddle you have at your place now. He made it, then he broke that curfew every week. And one weekend, he decided there were just too many rules here and he wasn't following them any more. So he took my car for a ride one night when Gram and I were out for the evening. He didn't have a driver's license, mind you. He would have gotten away with that, except we came home a little earlier than expected. When he came up the driveway, I was sittin' on the porch, waiting."
Fox's eyes were nearly popping out of his head by now. "Oh, God. I think I would just have a heart attack and die if that happened to me."
Mr. Skinner smiled, knowing he'd pulled the boy's focus off his own troubles and onto something else finally. So he decided to continue the narrative. "Well, 'the Persuader' and your Dad got reacquainted that night, believe me. Not too long after his punishment tour ended, though, he got his license. And the second weekend, he came home drunk. Driving the car."
"No, he didn't. He's a maniac about drinking and driving," Fox declared, shaking his head.
"He is now. And I believe the licking he got the next day, when he sobered up some, is why he's so adamant about it," Mr. Skinner said emphatically. "And the hour he spent standing in the corner with his pants down and his butt on display probably helped drive that message home a little more. I thought it was important for the other kids to know he'd been properly punished for showing such lousy judgment. Kind of a deterrent for the rest of them."
Fox nodded anxiously. "That would deter me," he breathed solemnly.
"Well, during those months, I'm sure I was letting him have it pretty regularly. Unlike Andy, or even Joe, your Dad was basically a good kid all his life. Except for that period of about 18 months. Not that Joe and Andy weren't good kids, mind you. Or Jeremy. But they all didn't have the sense of responsibility Walter had. But I guess every kid's gotta break out at one point or another. And for him, it was in his late teens. I was punishing him constantly, Foksik."
"I can't believe it. He doesn't seem like . . . . like he'd ever do anything wrong. Not even accidentally."
Mr. Skinner held back the grin that threatened to spread over his face. No kid ever thought of their father in these terms. At least not without help. And the older man was glad to help, now that he understood how important it was for Fox to know.
"And he also developed this attitude for a while," he continued. "Like he knew everything. No one else was ever right. And everything I tried to tell him was just useless noise. One day he came in from playing baseball. I remember he was still wearing his uniform when we sat down to have dinner. He made some smart remark to your grandmother and I told him to apologize immediately. Well, he rolled his eyes and said "I'm sorry" but in this smart-mouth way that made me crazy. I just grabbed him and put him over my knee and spanked him, right there in the kitchen. Then I sent him down to the woodshed to wait for me and he had a long visit with the razor strop that night. And a nice long punishment tour, too."
Fox was staring at his grandfather now with a look of such surprise and wonder the older man nearly laughed out loud. He'd finished the hot cocoa without even realizing it and his tears had dried up some time ago. "Wow," he said. "That's a lot of trouble to get into."
"Yes, it is," Mr. Skinner agreed. "But I never once thought about sending him away. I love your Dad and his brothers and his sister more than life, Fox. And that's how your Dad feels about you. When you're in trouble, that's when he wants you as close as possible. To make sure you come through it okay. And learn the lessons that will help you get through troubles later, when you're on your own. Much later." The older man reached over and tousled the boy's hair. "But you'll never really be alone, you know, Fox. You'll always be a part of this family, wherever your life takes you when you're older."
Fox nodded and tried to stifle a yawn but failed miserably.
"Time for you to be asleep, young man," the older man said as he stood. They walked up the stairs together and Mr. Skinner gave him another hug, then helped him into bed, drawing the covers up over him as he settled down. He turned to leave but Fox called him suddenly.
"Gran?" he whispered, not wanting to wake Mike. "How long . . . how long did it take for you to not be mad at him? For being so much trouble. And for doing all those things?"
"It never took more than a split second, Foksik," he replied quietly. "That's how it is with families. The love is so much stronger than anything else. We had a rough patch, your Dad and I. But now he's not only my son, he's one of the best friends I have, maybe the best. And he's a man I respect for who he is and what he's done with his life. And that's how your Dad and you will be. Best friends. I guarantee it."
A smile settled over the young man's face even as sleep overtook him. Mr. Skinner sighed. He was exhausted. But he was also exhilarated. It had been a tough fight, bringing this boy back to his senses. He didn't envy his son at all. And yet he did. Because Fox was a challenge and a half but worth every ounce of the effort. (Well, he's my grandson, after all! Of course he's worth it!)
Our Lady of Perpetual Hope Church
Hopewell Junction, Pennsylvania
Saturday afternoon
The organ played in the background as the church quietly filled with people invited to see Doug Dawson marry Emily Cantwell. Skinner stood in the back of the main chapel with Fiona and his parents and watched Fox and Mike usher various guests to their places. The boy looked well rested today. He'd gotten ten hours of sleep despite the late-night chat with the Assistant Director's father. Skinner smiled to himself as he thought about the two versions of that event he'd heard. He suspected his father's was more accurate. But Fox's had been revealing.
"I got in trouble last night, Dad," he'd said when the A.D. finally went in to wake him to have some lunch and get ready for the wedding. "Mike and I didn't come right home when we were supposed to. And I drank some beer and smoked a cigarette. But don't worry, Gran punished me! And he told me all about how much trouble you were when you were around my age. I guess I'm a lot like you, huh, Dad?"
Skinner had been very glad his father was up at the crack of dawn filling him in on the entire incident. Otherwise he suspected he'd have been too tongue-tied to respond appropriately. With prior warning, he'd been prepared. "Yeah," he said easily, giving the boy a quick hug. "I guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, kid!"
Skinner had also found himself explaining to his father why he'd referred to Fox as 'an assignment' when talking to the Deputy Director last week. The older man had keyed on that point in Fox's story and called his son on it.
"Dad, it's complicated," he'd replied truthfully. "I have to maintain the appearance of objectivity for the Bureau. Hard as that is, it's the only way I can continue to be of help to him, personally and professionally. It's a fine line that keeps moving and I feel like I'm constantly jumping around just to try to stay on it."
His father nodded thoughtfully but Skinner knew no one outside of him and Mulder could possibly understand or appreciate the complexity of the situation or the vast and unfathomable conspiracy that tossed the boy around like a piece of cork in a roiling sea. The AD wasn't even certain he fully understood it and often relied on nothing more than his faith in Mulder's instincts. Now, without the adult Mulder to confer with, and an unpredictable teenager named Fox to protect, Skinner was sometimes scared sick that he'd make a wrong guess and the balance would tip irretrievably in the direction of their enemies. It was a constant fear that sat in the back of his mind and poked gaping holes in his peace of mind in quiet moments.
At this moment, though, the AD watched Fox out of the corner of one eye as he and Fiona chatted quietly with a few other guests. Fox looked nervous, and a little uncomfortable in the tuxedo. But he was fresh scrubbed and his hair was firmly held in place with some gel Fiona had brought. The boy smiled tentatively at Doug's boss, Sheriff Sam Cole and his wife and held out his arm to Mrs. Cole as he proceeded to escort them to their seats. He and Mike had gotten a quick rehearsal from Joe when they arrived at the church earlier. And Fox was remembering everything he'd been told. The AD felt a surge of paternal pride and a lump rose in his throat as he watched the boy perform his duties flawlessly if a little self-consciously.
The music changed, signaling the beginning of the ceremony was imminent. Fox and Mike came down the aisle again. They escorted the Skinner family to their seats in the first and second row, Fox offering his arm to Rachel and Mike doing the same with Jean. The Assistant Director found he was having a hard time restraining the smile that scene engendered so he didn't bother to try. Instead, he offered his own arm to Fiona and they followed the others to the front of the church, taking their places behind Rachel and Walter, Sr. Then Fox and Michael went back to the doors and escorted Emily's folks to their seats.
Next they went to the sacristy and in a moment, Doug appeared with the both of them, standing a little nervously at the front of the church as he watched for the procession to begin. The organist was signaled and began to play something melodic. In a moment, Joe's youngest daughter, Amanda appeared. She was dressed in a long chocolate brown velvet dress and her hair was swept up in a style that highlighted her large brown eyes and full lips. Unlike her sister, Kelly, she was a tomboy through and through and Skinner was not certain he'd ever seen her in a dress before. Or noticed the sixteen year old was not a little girl any more. He looked at Joe and saw tears glistening in his brother's eyes.
She was followed by Brian and Haley. Five-year-old Brian was the ring bearer and he carried a little pillow with the two gold pieces securely sewn onto the top. He was walking a little too fast. Beside him, Haley was wearing a beautiful peach-colored velvet dress and carrying a basket of rose petals she was supposed to scatter as she walked. Instead she was placing them, one petal at a time, bending down and putting a petal here and another one there, a beatific smile on her face as she worked. A ripple of laughter went through the crowd as Brian tried to pull her along by the hand. "You're going too slow," he whispered loud enough for everyone on the aisle to hear it.
Andy motioned for the kids to pick up the pace and Eileen whispered to Haley that she could just throw the petals but the four-year-old gave her a dubious look and continued placing them, albeit at a slightly faster rate. Behind her came Kathy, Joe's oldest daughter. She was a beauty like her mother, with the Black Irish look that all of Nora's family had. And Kelly, Doug's sister followed her, another tall, lovely girl looking elegant and happy in a velvet dress of deep rust. She was the maid of honor and everyone stood as she reached the altar.
The music changed once more and now the bride came down the aisle, escorted by her father to the strains of the Wedding March. Emily was as fair as the Skinner girls were dark, her fine porcelain skin and wheat blonde hair a stark contrast to the other girls. She smiled radiantly as she passed and the look on Doug's face when he saw her was a sight to behold. The couple had chosen a traditional ceremony and in a little while the vows were due to be exchanged.
"May I have the rings?" the priest asked as he looked expectantly at Mike and Fox. They both stared at him blankly for a split second then remembered they were supposed to have taken them off the pillow when Brian joined them at the altar. Fox hastily grabbed the pillow from Brian and began pulling on the rings but they were secured so well, he wasn't able to get them off. Panic crossed his face and Mike started pulling on the other ring.
Neither gave and by now the bride and groom were barely holding back their laughter. The congregation tittered a little then laughed when the priest finally gave in and chuckled on the altar. Mr. Skinner, Sr. pulled a Swiss Army knife out of his pocket and passed it up to the front where Fox and Mike cut the strings that held the rings and passed them solemnly to the celebrant.
"Now I see why there are two best men," Father Quinn said. "This was definitely not a one-man job!" Fox and Mike blushed but they couldn't help laughing at the situation either. And after that, the rest of the ceremony went smoothly and was one of the most relaxed and natural weddings the AD had ever seen.
The reception was held at the local country club and by the time it got going, it turned into a fun and very informal party. The band was wonderful and managed to pull off music from the 1930's to the 1980's without missing a beat. There were a number of toasts to the bride and groom, including one from Walter, Sr. that brought tears to the eyes of almost everyone in the room.
"I have been blessed by the chance to be married to a wonderful woman for almost 50 years," he said as he raised his champagne glass. "Together we've shared the miracles that life brings every day. Raised our children and seen them grow into wonderful adults, been lucky enough to share the lives of nine grandchildren we love more than life. I hope to see some great-grandkids soon," he glanced at Doug and Emily and winked. "Whenever you're ready! I've spent nearly half a century in love and seen the fruits of that love grow and extend out into the world, watched them build their own families but always remain firmly a part of this one. And that is what I wish for you two, Emily and Douglas. That 50 years from now, when you look back on your lives together, you'll feel the loving shadows of those who came before you at your backs, and know you are part of something bigger and stronger than anything life can throw at you. And you'll see the smiling faces of the next generations gathered before you filled with hope and optimism. And then you'll know the true meaning of life and love. Congratulations!"
The crowd toasted the young couple and the band resumed with a lush version of Rachel and Walter, Sr.'s favorite song, "I'll Be Loving You Always." Emily and Doug invited the family to join them and in a moment the dance floor was flooded with all the Skinners present. Mike swung little Haley around and Kathy twirled Brian. Fox and Amanda attempted to pull off a waltz, then gave up and made something up that was waltz-like and had them both giggling constantly. The various Skinner couples danced and Walter and Fiona found themselves swaying amidst the crowd, too.
"You have a wonderful family, Walter," she said to him and he smiled his agreement at her. His eyes searched the dance floor and found Fox, still dancing with Amanda, grinning from ear to ear. Skinner watched him for a few seconds, hoping he'd weathered the crisis of the past week and come through it as unscathed as it appeared tonight.
"Stop worrying," Fiona whispered into his ear and he was startled at how easily and completely she seemed to read his mind. Then he smiled and pulled her closer into the circle of his arms as the music swelled.
"Yes, ma'am," he replied with a grin.
End of Chapter 36