Title: Identity. Crisis. Part One (1/2) I know the thing with the fingers is a fork. The one which has only one finger…isn’t. I’m okay with the fork, so I abandon…the other thing and eat the food with the fork. ‘Fox, what is that you have in your hand?’ Door or window? Door. Okay. ‘Fork.’ ‘Yes Fox. Well done.’ She’s smiling. She’s called…Doctor. I’ve remembered what the thing that I’m holding is called and now everyone’s smiling. The tall guy, the woman, and two people who seem to be around me most of the time. They have names. I just don’t know what they are. I do know they’re easily pleased. Jeez, I only remembered the name of the thing in my hand. It’s a…whatever. It doesn’t matter. They never ask a second time. ************ ‘Six weeks. Forty-two days. He’s learned one word in six weeks. He has to go.’ ‘When he came, he couldn’t even hold the fork, let alone remember what it was called.’ ‘Rachael, I’m not criticising you. I’m simply pointing out that we don’t have enough resources for his care. Jack and Ellen are with him the whole time. We cannot afford to keep him here. He needs to go somewhere more suitable.’ ‘Fine, I’ll resign, and I’ll let Walter take him home. That way you get to save my wages and his food bill. Which, if you remember, until about a week ago was practically nothing!’ *************** Jack Miller and Ellen Harper sat with Fox while he finished his meal. They guessed why Sam had pulled Rachael away, and both imagined the fireworks that were lighting up the clinical director’s office as they watched the young man pick his way, painfully slowly, through the chicken casserole. Without a knife. ‘Fox, would you like to try cutting up your food today?’ I’m gonna try something. Cutting up your food today. Okay. It might be nice like the sweet thing they gave me after I’d eaten all my food last time. Or not. I don’t know what it will be. But they’re always telling me if I don’t like something, I won’t get it again. So I’ll try it. ‘Fox, look down at your plate. Watch what I’m doing. Put your hands on mine. Now you try.’ No nice thing. Just moving the fork and the other thing. Making the food smaller. Which makes it harder to pick up with the fork. ‘Fork.’ ‘Yes Fox. And use the knife too, okay?’ Knife. The other thing. Knife. ‘Knife.’ ‘Fork, Fox. That’s your fork. This is your knife. Remember, lots of fingers, fork. One finger, knife. Hey, it’s okay. Don’t cry. All right. Let’s get Jack working on your food before it gets cold. You just lay back. There. Shhh. There’s no need to get upset. You’ll get there. All done. Now, let’s eat. I’ll help you. Remember what we said you do when you’ve had enough? You lift your hand. Like this. Practice. Good.’ ************** Walter Skinner parked carefully in the marked bay. Always the same bay. As if it could somehow bring him bad luck if he couldn’t park there. Any more bad luck and he’d give in to his urge to get drunk and blow his brains out. Then he thought about Fox and who would look after him once he left this place, and, as always, changed his mind. ************** ‘Hello Fox.’ Skinner forced a smile on his face as Mulder’s usual look of slight interest in the new presence at his side was instantly replaced by his equally usual look of complete incomprehension and disinterest. ‘Fox said a new word today.’ Skinner smiled broadly. ‘Did you?’ Fox’s expression didn’t change. Jack nodded. He’d leave Fox and Walter alone once he was sure Fox wasn’t going to get upset again. It had taken them almost an hour to stop his tears earlier. ‘Fork.’ ‘Well done Fox.’ Skinner smiled and lifted a bag onto the bed. ‘I bought you a present.’ Jack smiled and left them alone. Every week the same thing. Same day, same time, same parking space, same plastic bag. Just different contents. Which Skinner would show Mulder then pack away. ‘Would you like to see what it is?’ Skinner upended the bag and tipped the square box onto the bed. Biting back his frustration at Mulder’s unresponsiveness, Skinner pulled the lid open and unpacked the Russian dolls onto the wheeled table, pulling it towards Mulder. The hollow stacking brightly-painted wooden toy would, Skinner hoped, catch Mulder’s attention for just a few seconds. But the eyes were blank, the hands still as they rested on the bedclothes. For a few minutes, Skinner demonstrated how the toy fitted together, at one point lifting Mulder’s hand, covering it with his own, and forcing Mulder’s fingers to grip the smooth shiny wooden shapes. Finally, unable to bear it, He got up slowly. ‘Fox, I’ll be back in a little while, okay?’ ************ ‘Hey.’ Jack walked into the bathroom as Skinner was coming out, his eyes damp. ‘Jack.’ ‘It’s okay. To cry.’ ‘Two months. It’s been two months.’ Jack smiled. ‘And Fox has improved.’ Skinner’s face hardened. ‘Come with me.’ ********* ‘Fox, what is this?’ Mulder stared at the thing Skinner held. On the table in front of him, he could have worked out whether it was near the window or the door. But held up like that, he had no idea. ‘Fox, what am I holding? What is it called?’ Fox stared at the thing in the man’s hand and willed the word to come into his mind. But it would not. Skinner’s shoulders sagged as Fox began to cry, terrified by the raised voice. ‘Fork, Fox. It’s a fork.’ Throwing the fork onto the bed, he walked out, slamming the door behind him. ************** Rachael Conroy walked out of her office and down the corridor at the same time as Walter Skinner and she saw him walking towards her. His body language and swift steps screamed: Leave me alone. ‘Mr Skinner?’ Despite his inner feelings, Skinner’s upbringing wouldn’t allow him to be rude to the doctor, whatever the circumstances. So he nodded politely and kept walking. ‘Stop right there!’ Walter’s marine training left him with an instinctive reaction to the shouted command, and he obeyed. Rachael closed the distance between them and carefully hid her reaction to the man’s obvious distress. Gently, she laid a hand on his trembling arm. ‘Come into my office.’ Mutely, Walter followed her. ************ Skinner took the cup of coffee the doctor handed him. ‘Want to talk about it?’ ‘I yelled at him.’ Rachael frowned. ‘Jack?’ ‘Fox.’ Rachael sighed. ‘Oh.’ She sipped at her own coffee, then looked across at the hunched figure in the chair opposite. ‘How long have you known him?’ Skinner thought back. ‘Five, six years.’ ‘And how long have you lived together?’ Skinner snapped upright almost spilling his coffee, his cheeks flaming. Rachael smiled. ‘It’s okay. I won’t tell anyone.’ ‘It’s not that I’m…we work for…we’d be fired.’ ‘I understand. Everyone concentrates on Fox. His needs, his wants. No-one thinks about your needs and wants.’ Skinner shook his head. ‘I’m okay.’ ‘That’s why you threw cutlery at one of my patients.’ ‘Who told…how did…’ Rachael smiled, then flicked a small TV set on. The picture showed Fox’s room. ‘I wondered what you’d bought with you.’ ‘I try…I just…I mean…what if…’ ‘The wind changes and he gets stuck like that? You adjust.’ ‘I’m not sure I can.’ ‘If you love him, you’ll find a way.’ Skinner sighed. ‘He borrowed my car.’ Rachael sat back and listened silently. ‘I’d just got a convertible. He wanted to drive it in. I had the day off, so I gave him the keys. In his car he would have been protected…’ Skinner’s voice tailed off and Rachael got up and moved to stand in front of him. Gently, she lifted his chin. ‘It wasn’t your fault Mr Skinner.’ ‘Then why do I feel so damn’ guilty?’ Keeping her own voice soft, Rachael smiled down at him. ‘Because you love him.’ She walked to her desk, picked up the box of tissues and dropped them onto the low table in front of Skinner. ‘And it’s okay to be angry with him. But if you want to throw stuff, come and throw it at me, okay?’ Skinner gathered himself slowly, smiling at her last comment. Looking up, he took a deep breath. ‘He probably won’t want me in there again.’ Rachael opened her office door and stood waiting for Skinner to get up. ‘Let’s find out.’ ************* Rachel looked round the staff meeting. ‘I think Fox Mulder is capable of much more than he lets on. I want to try something. We’ve been focussing on what he can’t do, not what he can. And he’s been letting us. That stops today. I want him to have incentives to get things done. And I want him to learn something new every day. Jack, Ellen can you work on a list please?’ ‘Sure. But he’s not gonna like it.’ Hardening her voice, Rachel said grimly: ‘Tough.’ ************ The magnetic board on the table in front of him had an outline of a person on it. And in a pile next to it were magnetic shapes with pictures various items of clothing on them. ‘OK Fox, where does the t-shirt go?’ I stare at the shape in my hand. ‘Fox, look at where my t-shirt is.’ That helps. I push the small shape onto the board. ‘Well done. That’s it. Now try the pants. Look where mine are.’ ‘Okay, now just the socks left. Now there are two of them. If you get them right, I’ll bring your breakfast in.’ ************** ‘If you manage to dress yourself, I’ll let Walter take you outside when he comes to visit.’ ************ ‘Fox, if you put all the blocks in the holes, I’ll let you have the TV on an extra half hour tonight.’ *********** ‘Okay, this is a tough one. If you walk to the bathroom, and shower and clean your teeth every day this week, we’ll let you go home for the weekend.’ ‘H..home?’ ‘Yeah Fox. It’s where you live.’ The concept was just too hard. Words he could manage if they meant something. Food. Shower. Blocks. But he had no idea what ‘home’ or ‘live’ were. They were new things. And he was scared. ‘If I don’t like it, I won’t have to have it again.’ ‘Fox, home is a place, not something to eat.’ Jack flicked on the TV and changed the channel repeatedly until he found The Cosby Show. ‘See where they’re all standing. It’s their home. It’s a house. They all go out, but they all come back eventually.’ Fox had learned quickly that nodding made the people stop asking him things. So he nodded and lay back against the pillows. ‘How about you get dressed and we wait for Walter in the car park?’ Jack pulled a t-shirt and jeans out of the closet. ‘He’ll be surprised.’ Clothes. Which had to be pulled on. They were tight and it was hard. After months in hospital gowns, Fox had decided everyday clothes were a hated necessity. He didn’t get to eat unless he wore them. And now Walter wouldn’t come if he didn’t get dressed. And he wouldn’t get a present. Pouting, he reached for the t-shirt, deliberately trying to pull his head through one of the armholes. Following Rachel’s instructions, Jack simply walked out, leaving him to struggle into it properly. When he returned a few minutes later, Fox was sitting on the edge of the bed, fully dressed, dangling his legs. ‘Sneakers Fox. You put ‘em on, and I’ll tie your laces for you.’ Sighing, Fox leaned down and began to pull the sneakers on. *************** ‘Going home.’ Walter smiled. ‘I know Fox. You’re coming home for the weekend.’ Suddenly, Walter was aware that his knee was damp. He looked up and saw Fox’s silent tears. ‘Hey, it’s gonna be okay. I’ll be there. And Scully. And you’ll be back here Monday morning.’ Fox sniffed. ‘Too many people.’ Walter smiled, handing Fox a handkerchief. ‘Just the two of us. Scully won’t stay.’ ‘TV…people…there.’ Walter sighed inwardly. This was turning into one of those conversations where Fox was thinking along completely different lines. And Walter had no way of knowing what Fox was thinking. Full marks for trying though… ‘Who was there Fox?’ ‘Don’t know.’ Fox was becoming agitated, and he got up, tripping over his lace which had become undone, falling heavily. Lifting him to his feet, Skinner said gently: ‘Okay, easy. Did you hurt yourself?’ Mulder breathed heavily. ‘Fork.’ He held his hand out and Skinner gently bent the wrist and fingers. ‘Hand, Fox. This is your hand.’ Fox sighed. ‘Fork this hand.’ Suddenly, Walter smiled, understanding. ‘Yes Fox. You do.’ Then he leaned down. ‘Let me do…’ He sat up again. ‘Let’s see if you can do your lace up.’ ‘They’ve been out there an hour.’ Rachael turned from where she had been staring out of the window overlooking the lawn. ‘Jack, why does Fox have his shoe on his lap?’ ‘Mr Skinner is trying to show him how to tie his lace.’ Rachael sighed. ‘He doesn’t have the dexterity.’ Jack shrugged. ‘Seems to me he does.’ They watched as Fox finally managed to tie the lace, and Skinner hugged him tightly. ************* ‘Come on in Fox.’ Skinner held the front door open and Fox walked into the house. ‘Fox.’ Skinner looked across to where Fox stood in front of the large mirror. ‘That’s right.’ He moved to stand behind Fox, his arms on Fox’s shoulders. ‘Welcome home.’ Fox put his hand up to the mirror. ‘Why?’ Skinner frowned. ‘It’s your reflection Fox.’ This was too hard, and Fox pulled away, walking into the sitting room. Skinner followed slowly, watching Fox as he circled the room, pausing occasionally as he recognised something. The TV. The radio. Books. Then he walked back towards Skinner and out of the room, waiting at the front door. ‘Go home.’ Skinner took a deep breath ‘You’re gonna stay here Fox, remember? Just for a couple of days.’ Fox’s face crumpled. ‘Scared.’ Skinner held Fox tightly, his hand moving over the short hair, his fingers gentle over the ridged scar tissue. ‘I know. But you’re safe. I won’t let anything happen to you. Let’s put your case in your room, okay?’ *********** Fox loved the toaster. He waited with his eyes fixed on the slots, jumping backwards when the browned hot bread popped up. Wanting to make them both a snack before dinner, Walter thought of toast. Not having any idea what it was, but not wanting to upset Walter, Fox nodded enthusiastically at the suggestion. Half a loaf later, Walter realised they’d have enough for two lakes full of very hungry ducks with the toast that was piled up on the counter top. ‘More.’ ‘No Fox, that’s all the bread there is. Now, I’m gonna start dinner. Why don’t you watch some TV.’ ‘Okay.’ The doorbell distracted Walter and he chatted with Mr Walker from next door about the failure of the garbage collection for the second time in three months. The smoke alarm alerted him that something was amiss moments before the thick smoke filtered through to where he was standing. ‘I gotta go.’ Slamming the door, Walter ran into the kitchen. Fox was standing in front of the toaster, smoke billowing around him, the incessant beeping of the smoke alarm competing with the incoherent sounds of Fox’s distress. Skinner leaned across, switched the toaster off at the wall, and flung open the kitchen window. Slowly the smoke dissipated, then he turned his attention to Fox, who hadn’t moved. ‘Fox, what happened?’ Fox was trembling, breathing in shallow panicked gasps. Steering him into the living room, Skinner pushed him down onto the couch. ‘It’s all right Fox. No harm done. There…okay now?’ ************ ‘Fox, you wanna help me set the table?’ Fox didn’t move. Set the table. Could be anything. Could be something he didn’t like. ‘Fox, just lay out the things like I have in your place.’ Fox saw the plate, knife, fork and other things. And the heap of things in front of the other chair. ‘Copy.’ ‘That’s right. Copy what I did.’ ‘No!’ ‘Fox, just try a little. You might like it.’ Used to the same food week after week, Fox pushed the dish of apple crumble away. ‘It’s apple Fox. You like apple.’ Fox scowled, recognising the familiar smell but not sure how to get at it. ‘Eat apple.’ Patiently, Skinner scraped the crumble topping off the soft apple. ‘Okay now?’ Slowly Fox began to eat. After a few mouthfuls, he looked up. ‘Nice.’ Skinner smiled. ‘I’m glad you like it Fox.’ Click here to go to Part Two Home Send me feedback on this fic Return to the X-Files Fic Index Return to the West Wing Fic Index