Take 2 - Part 37

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 finds a friend in Andy Skinner but the AD's brother finds himself uncertain about how to play that role.



Joe & Nora Skinner's Home
Millersburg, Pennsylvania
Sunday afternoon

Walter Skinner stood at the glass door in the family room, looking out into the yard. Fox and the AD's brother Andy were sitting on swings, not moving, just talking. They'd been out there almost since the AD arrived with Fox and Fiona. They'd come in for the brunch Nora made, then gone back outside immediately after eating.

"Still at it?" Fiona asked, startling him with the way she'd suddenly appeared beside him.

"Hmm? Yes," he answered with a nod. "Fox hasn't talked much about what happened to me yet. But he seems to have found a sympathetic ear in Andy."

"That's good, Walter," Fiona assured him. "Sometimes kids have to talk to someone who's not so much of an authority figure. And its' good he's talking, period. It's not a reflection on you."

"I'm not . . . I didn't mean it that way. I'm glad he's talking to someone, too," he replied quickly but Fiona sensed an undercurrent of hurt at the fact it was not him to whom the boy turned in this moment.

She reached out and looped an arm through his, pulling him closer to her side. "He'll probably need to talk about it a lot, Walter," she said softly. "I'll make sure he sees one of the counselors at school when he returns tomorrow. And I wouldn't be surprised if, sooner or later, he starts to talk to you about it. But kids this age start to separate from their parents, they need to establish some independence. It's a natural progression. And Andy's a good choice, if it's not you."

"I guess you're right," he answered with the beginning of a smile. "Andy is a good choice. He's been through a lot himself, done some incredibly dumb things. Some of which didn't turn out too well . . . . All in all, he and Fox have a lot in common."

She gave him a sunny smile. "Come on. I'll fix you another cup of coffee. We've got a long drive ahead of us after a late night last night." He watched her walk into the kitchen, then turned back to the window.

Fox had been talking very seriously with Andy for quite a while but now, for the first time today, the AD saw him laugh. Whatever Andy said next came as a surprise and the boy burst out laughing so hard he seemed to be having trouble catching his breath. But the wide grin on his face made his father's heart lighten and Skinner was suddenly immensely grateful for Andy's quick sense of humor, and his ability to relate so easily to an 18-year-old. It was a character trait his older brother wished he could claim. The Assistant Director sighed again and followed Fiona into the kitchen. He'd let Fox have as much time to talk to Andy as he wanted. It was the least he could do.



McLean, Virginia
Thursday morning

Fox sat in the kitchen munching on a piece of toast and reading something for school. He looked up as the Assistant Director came into the kitchen wearing a crisp white shirt and the traditional gray tie that went with his charcoal gray suit. As usual, he looked freshly pressed.

"Hi, Walt," Fox said casually and the AD came to a skidding halt halfway to the coffee pot. He turned his head and stared at the boy, his face betraying nothing.

Fox watched him for a few seconds, then he swallowed down the piece of toast that was now stuck in his throat. "I just thought . . . that, you know. Now that I'm eighteen . . . probably. Well, I could start calling you Walter. . . ." He bit down on his lower lip and waited for some agreement but none came and now the boy was beginning to sweat. "I mean, if it's okay with you . . . Dad."

Skinner had to work hard not to laugh at the look of terror that descended on the boy's face but he managed to keep from betraying any amusement at the predicament the boy had gotten himself into. He stared expressionless at the kid.

"Or I could just keep calling you 'Dad,' if you want . . . " Fox's voice had reduced to something barely more than a squeak and he struggled to complete the sentence. "Daddy," he finished as he ran out of breath. He chewed on his lip again, waiting.

Skinner softened his expression and continued his walk to the coffee pot. "That'd be fine, pal," he said lightly, knowing his message had been received loud and clear. "Did you finish the scrambled eggs I made you? I want you to eat more than toast for breakfast. I won't be able to make your meet this afternoon . . . ."



Later that afternoon

"I don't mind at all, Walter," Andy Skinner was saying for the tenth time in a couple of days. "I can work from anywhere as long as I have my computer."

"I know, but this takes you away from Eileen and the kids for a couple of days. I wouldn't have asked if it wasn't an emergency," Skinner said as he dropped his suitcase on the floor in the foyer. He checked the inside pocket of his suit jacket for the third time to be certain his airline ticket was there.

"And I told you, her entire family is there. She's not alone, and Eileen loves Fox. If you and he need me to be here for a couple of days, it's not an imposition. You'd do it for me without a second thought."

Skinner looked at his younger brother fondly. What Andy was saying was exactly right. Skinner knew it but he still hated to impose. But the AD was required on the West Coast by pressing Bureau business. He'd been working less than a full-time schedule for most of the past five months and now he needed to return to his former work habits or fall hopelessly behind in his work, and possibly impede his career. At least that's what Deputy Director Calloway had told him the week before.

Fox was at an age where a normal kid would probably be able to stay home alone for a few days. But the additional security concerns, and the recent tragedy that had befallen his friends, left Skinner unwilling to chance it. The Assistant Director's parents were away with his sister Jean and her husband when this sudden business trip came up. And Joe had a full teaching schedule as well as it being the middle of football season. That left the option of putting Fox under the supervision of another FBI agent for a few days, or Andy. The AD had turned that over in his mind but decided Fox, and later Mulder, would be more comfortable with a family member under the circumstances.

"I'll be in San Francisco, staying at the St. Francis," Skinner was saying as he handed over an itinerary. "The local Bureau office's number is here and so's my cell phone number. Don't hesitate to call if anything comes up. He's been . . . a little erratic since the accident. Sometimes he sleeps, sometimes he has bad nightmares. Sometimes he's himself, sometimes it feels like the "Bad Seed" has moved in. . . ."

"That's completely understandable, Walt," Andy said, trying to put his mind to ease.

"Fox's school schedule is right here," Skinner continued, "and his swim meet schedule is here, too--"

"I can read, Walter! Please. Just go to the airport or you're gonna miss this flight. And yes, I'll go pick Fox up from school at six o'clock, just as it says here on this handy-dandy instruction sheet!"

Skinner couldn't help smiling as he reached out and gave his brother a hug. "I don't know if I've mentioned this recently but . . . I love ya, kiddo," he said. Then he reached down and picked up his bag and started for the front door. "But if anything happens to Fox, don't think I won't smack you!"

"Nothing will happen. . . !"



Friday evening
5:30 p.m.

Fox reached a long arm out and stole the basketball right out of Andy's control. Then he pivoted gracefully around the older man and sent the ball sailing toward the basket. It swished through without hitting the rim and Andy found himself whistling appreciatively.

"That was beautiful, kid," he said quietly. "If you had only grown a couple more inches, I'd be pitching you to the NBA right now."

"A couple more, Andy?" Fox laughed. "Try six or seven. If I was real lucky!" The phone rang inside the house and Fox ran off to answer it. Andy retrieved the ball from the driveway below the basket and followed him into the house. It was growing dark and they had to make plans for dinner soon anyway.

"I don't know, Jarrod," Fox was saying as Andy entered the kitchen. "I didn't plan to go to the party anyway. I . . . don't really feel like it."

Andy's ears pricked up at the conversation. He'd wondered when Fox would begin getting back into the regular routines of a kid his age. He'd gone back to school and participated in a couple of swim meets. But the youngest Skinner brother had noticed he'd remained aloof from the other kids most of the time, seeming to brood more than participate in any of the social interaction around him. And it didn't sound like Fox was aiming to change that any time soon.

"Well, I'll call if I change my mind, Jarrod," he was saying. "But don't wait for me." He listened to the other boy for another minute then hung up.

"What's with this party, Fox?" Andy asked him as soon as he'd disconnected. "Sounds like it might be fun. You know, spend some time with friends, people your own age."

"You seem like you're my age most of the time," Fox responded with a grin. "You're a whole lot more fun than my Dad. Don't tell him I said that!"

"Well, thanks for the compliment, bro," Andy said, raising his hand and exchanging a high-five with the younger man. "But as for being more fun than your Dad, well . . . poison ivy generally qualifies for that honor, too! And don't tell him I said that either!"

"Yeah, he can be . . . a little serious sometimes," Fox agreed. "He worries too much."

"Well, that makes it unanimous. You, me and the world at large think your Dad worries too much! But what's that got to do with skipping this party anyway. He's not even here."

"Well. . . it's just that I don't know the kid who's having the party that well. He's a senior who just got back from three months in South America with his family and I only met him a couple of times. And anyway, the party won't even get started till ten thirty or so. And I have to be home at twelve."

Andy listened to this narrative without remark. He could hear Walter's words underscoring the boy's. "You don't even know this boy or his family," Walter would likely say. "I don't like the idea of you going to someone's house when I don't know them. And don't forget your curfew at midnight!" The youngest Skinner brother shook his head. Walter was always too conservative when it came to stuff like this. But now Andy had a chance to give Fox a little more freedom, let him develop a little more self-confidence and independence. And at eighteen or so, he should have a curfew later than midnight. (What's Walter thinking anyway?)

"Well, tell you what," he said as he took a seat on a stool by the kitchen counter. "What if I say you can stay out till one o'clock? Think you'd like to go to the party then?"

Fox's eyes lit at the possibility. But he didn't want to appear too anxious. "Well. . . . How about two o'clock? That's closer to everyone else's curfew."

Andy grinned at him. "Well, let's not go crazy, Fox," he said shaking his head. "What if we say sometime between one and one-thirty, okay? Use your judgment."

Fox agreed happily, then picked up the phone to call Jarrod back and tell him he'd changed his mind. Andy knew Walter would probably blow a gasket when he heard but once he saw Fox was capable of handling the extra freedom, he'd come around. Probably. Possibly. Oh, well, the commitment was made and Andy wasn't about to change it. He pulled open the drawer that held menus from take-out places and started sorting through them looking for someone to deliver a pizza for dinner.



Later that night
4:17 a.m.

Fox pulled the jeep into the garage and sighed as his eyes caught sight of the clock on the dashboard. (Thank God it was Andy here, not my Dad.) He'd had the same thought a couple dozen times in the past several hours. He got out of the car and closed the door behind him quietly, then he strolled into the kitchen. He went right to the refrigerator in the dimly lit room and took out a Snapple Iced Tea. He was popping the top open just as Andy appeared in the doorway.

"Where the hell have you been?" the man asked him shortly. He crossed his arms over his muscled chest in a pose that eerily resembled one his older brother assumed regularly.

"Oh, hi," Fox replied breezily as he lifted the bottle to his lips and took a swallow. "I hope you didn't wait up."

Andy's eyes widened with shock. "Are you kidding me?" he asked the young man succinctly. "It's after four in the morning. I was worried sick. And I asked you where you've been."

Fox gave him a sympathetic smile as he walked past the older man and toward the staircase. "The party was great. I lost track of the time. Then we all had the munchies, so we went over to that diner on the turnpike. I'm sorry. I would have called if I realized you were awake." With that he offered another understanding nod and headed upstairs. "Good night, Andy. I'll see you in the morning."

Andy stood in the kitchen in shock, not at all sure he was certain what had just happened. But he was sure he wasn't satisfied with whatever it was. He thought about it for another few seconds, then followed the boy up the stairs. Fox was in the hall bath when he got there, so Andy went to the younger man's bedroom and took a seat in the chair by the window. When Fox appeared a moment later, the boy was startled by his presence.

"God, you scared me," he sad as he flung himself onto the bed with a sigh. He was wearing pajama bottoms and a tee-shirt from the Wheatley Academy. "Is something wrong?"

"Yes," Andy replied succinctly. "I expected you home between one and one-thirty, Fox. How do you explain four-fifteen in the morning? That's what's wrong."

"Well, you said 'use your judgment,' and I did," the boy explained as a yawn nearly drowned out his words. "And nothing happened, and now I'm home and everything's fine. I need to get some sleep though. And you should too, Andy. I mean, you look exhausted."

Andy felt his blood pressure rise. He knew he should say something, do something, but this was new territory for the youngest brother in the Skinner family. Someone else was always the bad guy in his experience to date.

Fox smiled again. "I gotta sleep," he said. "I'm glad you're here and not my Dad. You're so much cooler than he is. He would have given me a hard time, and yelled and. . . . everything. And for nothing. Nothing happened. The world didn't end just 'cause I came home after four, right? I know you understand that. Maybe after this weekend, after you explain everything to him, my Dad'll understand it, too." Fox picked up the remote control for the small television in his room and clicked the 'on' button. "Maybe there's some old movie on that'll put me to sleep. Anything black and white usually works. Good night, Andy."

Andy nodded as he rose automatically from the chair. He was still dissatisfied but competing internal impulses barred him from knowing what to do about it. He walked mutely toward the door still wrestling with himself. Fox turned off the lamp and that left the room lit only by the flickering light of the television. The young man laid back against the pillows and proceeded to surf through the channels. Andy closed the door behind him, then he stood in the hall, unable to put one foot in front of the other and get himself to the guest bedroom. The dialogue in his head had him paralyzed.

(He's right, Andy! Nothing happened. Walt's a worrier and he's got this kid on too short a leash. He needs a chance to stretch his wings once in a while.)

(What are you smoking now, Skinner! He's eighteen years old and he was out till after four in the morning! Without even the courtesy of a phone call to say he'd be late. And he had a midnight curfew until you unilaterally extended it to one-thirty. Walter's gonna love to hear that one!)

(Yeah, but the point is, he can obviously handle more freedom. Nothing did happen. The kid's fine.)

(Oh, he's fine, all right. He's watching TV at four-thirty in the morning instead of sleeping. And the way he dismissed you and the conflict about his curfew is gonna go down real well when he pulls it on Walter. Or Joe. Or, God forbid, Dad! And he will, since it worked so well this time! I'll just hope I'm not around to see that explosion!)

Andy stood there another minute, listening to the warring parts of his mind. Finally he shook his head in a vain attempt to shut down the continuous loops in his brain. A new voice in his head spoke up now.

(What's the right thing for Fox right now?) No answer came.

(What would Walter do? Or Joe? Or Dad?) This time the answer returned loud and clear. Andy opened the door behind him again and walked back into Fox's room. The door banged against the wall behind it and Fox looked up from the television in shock.

"Something wrong, Andy?"

"Yeah. There's a lot wrong, Fox. First of all, you're a kid right now and it's 'Uncle Andy' to you. I should have corrected you the first time but I was too busy being 'cool.' My mistake. It won't happen again, believe me."

Fox sat up immediately. Andy's tone of voice and his posture had changed and the boy responded to it instinctively. It was exactly like that of his father when he was angry.

"I-- I-- I'm sorry, Andy. I mean, Uncle Andy," he stammered.

"Apology accepted. But now we're gonna deal with your curfew violation. I told you one o'clock, or even one-thirty would be okay. I probably shouldn't have done that, and I'm sure I'll hear from my brother about it. But when I said 'use your judgment,' wasn't it clear that meant about what time between one and one thirty to come home?"

Fox opened his mouth but no sound came out before Andy spoke again.

"And Fox," he said firmly, "I want the truth. Trying to bullshit me on this will not help your current situation in the least."

Fox lowered his head and swallowed hard. "I . . . I guess I understood that," he said slowly. Then he looked up, a trace of defiance playing across his face. "But everyone was going out for breakfast! And I didn't want to be the only one who couldn't go! Like I'm always the only one who can't do things!"

Andy recognized an exaggeration when he heard it. He'd certainly tossed plenty of them around himself when he was younger. His eyebrows rose as he spoke. "Everyone? Everyone else was going to the diner?"

Fox's face betrayed his mixed feelings about what to say next. "Well. . . maybe not everyone. . . . "

Andy watched him without expression, waiting.

"All right! Only me and two other guys who were at the party! But when I suggested it, they went right along. No one was gonna yell at them for coming home late or anything. . . ." Now his face took on a rebellious look again. "Not like me! Everyone acts like I'm a little kid! But I'm not! I'm an adult now!"

"Let me tell you something, Fox," Andy said quietly. "Even adults have rules to follow. And they get punished when they step out of line."

"But not-- not like. . . They don't get spanked," Fox answered, his voice rising even as he stumbled over the words.

"Well, that's where you'd be wrong, kid," Andy said as he reached for the paddle hanging on the wall of Fox's room. He recognized it right away. It was the one his father had used to deal with all his sons' curfew violations over the years. He hadn't heard it made its way down to the McLean house but it didn't surprise him in the least that his Dad or Walter had thought of it.

Fox's eyes widened with horror and he jumped off the bed and backed up into the nightstand that sat beside it. "No!" he cried. "You can't-- I mean, you're not . . . you're not my father!"

"Yeah, but I'm standing in for him right now," Andy said as he pulled the wood chair away from the desk. He needed a clear spot for Fox to bend over. "Get yourself over here, Fox. Don't make me tell you again, young man."

Fox looked like he wanted to argue but some thread of common sense overrode the instinct. He dragged his feet as he walked over to the desk. "This isn't fair," he whined. "You acted like it was okay. Like we were friends. And now you're acting like . . . like you're my Dad or something."

Andy found himself curious about that statement. "And your Dad," he asked the boy. "Isn't he your friend, too?"

Fox's face reflected a moment of confusion and he furrowed his brow. "No," he said slowly. "He's just . . . my Dad. He says I can have all the friends in the world but I'll only have one father and so that's the part he's gonna stick with."

Andy nodded thoughtfully. "And you only have a couple of uncles, Fox. But I kind of forgot that's my part. I was thinking I could be both. And someday we will be friends again. When you're all grown up. But right now, I'd be falling down on the job if I let you get away with what you pulled tonight, kid."

Fox's eyes flooded with tears. "I understand now, Uncle Andy," he said, his voice animated by the best imitation of sincerity he could muster. "You don't have to . . . I mean, I don't need to be punished 'cause I get it already. I know I was wrong--"

The older man watched his performance with growing amusement and a flash of recognition. (This kid reminds me more of me all the time! No wonder Walter worries so much!)

"I'm glad to hear that, Fox," he said. "But I know from personal experience a little reinforcement doesn't hurt. Well, it hurts but . . . it serves its purpose. Let's go, son." He indicated the desk Fox was to bend over and waited until the boy was in position. Then he pulled on the pajama bottoms and watched them pool around the kid's ankles.

Andy had never delivered a paddling in his life. (All my experience to date has been on the receiving end!) He took a deep breath and prayed he'd picked up enough during all his sessions with the paddle to pull this off without Fox knowing he was a rookie.

"What's this paddling for, Fox?" he asked as he delivered a swat to the boy's bare bottom. He immediately knew it hadn't had enough force behind it.

"For breaking my curfew," the boy responded automatically. Andy pulled back and gave him another whack, this time with a little more strength.

"Oww! That hurt!" Fox gasped.

"That's the idea, kid," Andy answered him, adding a third smack. "What else are you being punished for?"

"F-for lying about not understanding what time OWWW! what time I was supposed to be home!"

"And?" Another swat and the boy's bottom was turning a healthy shade of pink.

"And OUCHH! And, I don't know! For lying about everyone going to the diner! Ohhhh! Please!"

"Very good, Fox," Andy responded, impressed at the kid's memory under duress. "Anything else?" He swatted his nephew's butt one more time.

"OWWWW! For call-calling you Andy instead of Uncle Andy!" Fox wailed. He'd broken into sobs a moment earlier. But Andy pulled back on the whack he was about to deliver and placed the paddle on the desk next to Fox.

"No, that's not something you should be punished for, Fox," he said as he pulled the boy up and into a hug. "That was my mistake. I should have corrected you the first time it happened. I gave you a mixed signal and that's my responsibility." He folded Fox into his arms and let the boy sob out his misery for another minute.

Then Andy let him get himself dressed and into bed. He turned the light out and watched as Fox flipped over onto his stomach and balled his pillow up under his head. The older man pulled the covers up over him and then reached down and brushed the hair out of Fox's eyes.

"What's your Dad say about this hair, kid?" he asked the boy gently. He'd noticed how long it had grown in back, well over the collar, and it hung in Fox's eyes most of the time. Andy had been stunned to see how unruly Fox's hair had become considering he was living with 'the ex-Marine' Skinner brother.

"He doesn't like it," Fox said as a yawn spread over his words. "But he says it's my hair so it's my choice."

Andy nodded, although the words surprised him. He hadn't expected to hear his brother took a hands-off stance on that issue.

"Uncle Andy?" Fox asked.

"What?"

"Are you . . . . Do you have to tell my Dad about tonight?"

Andy understood where the kid was coming from but he knew the answer without having to give it another thought. "Yeah. I'm afraid we do. We both did some things he needs to hear about. But you've got one important thing on your side, pal."

Fox eyed him curiously. "What's that?"

"You've already been punished," Andy said with a grin.

Fox looked stricken when he realized the full meaning of the man's words. "Oh, God," he breathed. "When he comes home tomorrow, do you want me to hide the paddle?"

Andy laughed despite himself. He leaned down and kissed Fox on the head. "No, thanks, kid," he said. "I appreciate the thought but . . . I'll just take my chances. Good night, Fox."

End of Chapter 37