Expert Witness
by Cadillac Red
Disclaimer: Fox Mulder, Dana Scully and Walter Skinner et al do not belong to me; they belong to Chris Carter and Fox. I mean no harm and will make no money from their use.
Spoilers: A few for "The Host"
Setting: Second Season. Takes place during and after "The Host" in the series and about a week after my story "Hard Evidence." Not a part of the Danville Universe
Rating: PG. Discipline, no slash.
Summary: Mulder pushes Skinner's buttons once again when he gets assigned to a case that seems humiliatingly meaningless but either the case nor the AD turn out to be what they first appear.
The Bullpen
J. Edgar Hoover Building
Washington, D.C.
Special Agent Fox Mulder sat at his desk, blankly staring at the wall. If he'd been thinking at all, he'd probably be wondering how long it would take the other brick agents at the desks around him to hear how he'd humiliated himself in front of the FBI brass assembled in Assistant Director Skinner's office a short while before. How he'd forced himself past Skinner's battle-axe of a secretary, demanding an audience. The AD had given him just enough rope to hang himself, in full view of the assembly.
"Is there a problem, Agent Mulder?" the AD had asked. In retrospect Mulder realized Skinner had sounded deceptively calm for a man who'd received a sewage-encrusted body shipped to the Bureau in his name a while earlier. *You should have figured that one out, asshole!*
Instead Mulder had walked right into the trap. "Yeah, there is."
"Then make an appointment."
"It's kind of hard to make an appointment when you're up to your ass in raw sewage, being jerked around from one meaningless assignment to another," Mulder had responded, taking another step into the fiery pit.
*You should have backed off right then, Mulder! Put your tail between your legs and high-tailed it out of there. What happened to Spooky Mulder's instincts, huh? Dead, right along with Spooky Mulder's career, obviously!*
Skinner had looked directly at him. "Excuse me?" he'd asked incredulously. That might have been the AD's offer of a last opportunity for Mulder to back down but the younger agent had blundered on instead, intent on turning a bad situation worse as fast as he possibly could.
"What's my next punishment?" Mulder had asked caustically as he stepped further into the AD's office. "Scrubbing the bathroom floors with a toothbrush?" Too late, he caught sight of the others gathered around the table at that very moment--
A ringing telephone paused the replay running through his head on a continual loop. His head jerked up, shocked by the unexpected interruption. He grabbed it fast, partly to stop the ringing, but mostly to avoid calling unwanted attention to himself. "Mulder," he answered instantly.
"This is AD Skinner's office," a woman's voice on the other end said smoothly. "The Assistant Director would like to see you in his office at 6 p.m. this evening."
Mulder's mouth popped open immediately but no sound emerged.
"Agent Mulder? Are you there?" the secretary asked after a few silent moments.
"Yeah," he managed to squeak out. The sound amazed him. The rest of his body was paralyzed, of that he was certain.
The silence stretched between them until she grew impatient. "Did you hear me, Agent Mulder?"
"Six o'clock?" he asked.
"Yes, Agent Mulder."
"In his office?"
"Yes, Agent Mulder."
Another few beats of silence followed.
"Can I tell him you'll be there, Agent Mulder?" she asked very carefully, as though he needed to be spoon fed words in short and easy syllables.
"Y-yeah," he replied, though it sounded more like a question than an answer when he heard the words himself. The secretary disconnected without another word and Mulder sat there with the phone plastered to his ear, listening to the dial tone when it resumed. Until his brain kicked in and he realized he had several hours to kill before . . . before the AD killed him. So now he sat on a park bench, staring at the Washington Monument without actually seeing the giant marble structure.
"Is this seat taken?" a voice interrupted him.
Mulder glanced up, surprised to see Dana Scully had managed to track him down. "No. But I should warn you, I'm experiencing violent impulses.
She gave him a sympathetic half-smile. "Well, I'm armed, so I'll take my chances." She took a seat, sighing outwardly. "I hear you really endeared yourself to Assistant Director Skinner today."
Mulder winced. It hurt to know she knew. He wasn't sure why that made it worse but it did. "You know, sometimes it just gets really hard to smile through it when they ask you to bend down and grab your ankles. You know?" He heard himself say the words and winced internally once again. That got decidedly too close to the truth and he was chagrined that that particular analogy was top of mind.
They talked for a few minutes and then she left. Despite his protests that it was a waste of time, Scully was intent on autopsying the body he'd been sent to retrieve from the sewers of Newark. Mulder let her believe he was going home for the day, not wanting to give her another hint of what was waiting for him back at the office.
The truth was, he was a man marking time. Time until he had to return to the Hoover building. And face the proverbial music. His stomach muscles clenched at the thought of it.
The last time he'd been summoned to the AD's office Skinner had shocked him more than any X-File ever had. The 'by the book" Assistant Director had snapped over Mulder's insolence, stepped out of the bounds of FBI protocol and taken a ruler to the young agent's backside. One could only begin to guess what he'd do tonight . . . . *What the hell made you push him like that, moron? Huh? You'll be lucky if he only fires you over this one!*
AD Skinner's Office
FBI Headquarters
5:58 p.m.
Mulder arrived in the outer office a few minutes early. He'd paced up and down the long hallway for five minutes, counting down the seconds before stepping into the office normally inhabited by the Assistant Director's guard dog. Some people considered her his secretary but Mulder always thought of the woman as a pit bull. It was well after quitting time for her though, so he walked over to the couch in the waiting area and sat down. Then he popped up again and began to pace the outer office, trying once again to walk off the nervous energy that had been building up since the phone call. It didn't work this time either and the minutes ticked away in an excruciatingly slow procession.
Lost in his misery, he didn't hear the door to the inner office open.
"Come in, Agent Mulder," Skinner said, startling him and making him jump. The voice was quiet and calm. Another perilous sign.
Mulder squeezed his hands open and closed as he followed the other man into the office. The action normally served to calm him but today it didn't work. Not at all.
"Shut the door," Skinner said as he continued to his desk. The older man circled the desk and sat down in his black leather chair, then he waited for Mulder to do as he'd instructed.
Seemingly surprised by the request, Mulder came to a sudden stop a few feet into the office. He blinked slowly, once, twice. "The door?" he repeated as if it were a foreign concept.
"Yes, Mulder," Skinner replied. "Shut . . the . . . door."
Mulder nodded spastically as he turned and returned to the aforementioned door. The AD was speaking to him slowly and distinctly, another ominous sign. Mulder found himself recalling that he'd closed this door for meetings with Skinner before, more times than he could count. Somehow this time it had . . . implications. He pushed it closed but his hand seemed to attach itself to the knob, not willing to let go.
"Come over here, Agent," Skinner said after a few seconds. Mulder shut his eyes momentarily, steeling himself, hen he turned toward around and saw the AD was motioning him to a guest chair. Somehow his legs carried him over and he was sitting in the chair before he knew it.
"I'd like an explanation," the AD said when he was settled.
"An explanation?"
Skinner fixed him with a direct stare that spelled out his impatience with what looked like recalcitrance. "Yes, Agent Mulder. For your . . . behavior in my office this afternoon. I thought . . . I'd hoped I . . . made it clear to you last week that such behavior will not be tolerated."
Mulder blanched, feeling the blood drain out of his head and rush toward his toes. He remembered last week only too well. "I-I-I-" he stammered. Nothing else followed.
"I hope you've got something better than that to offer," Skinner continued. He glanced down at something in front of him. "I'm sitting here with your dismissal paperwork on my desk. Waiting to hear something that will make me reconsider."
Mulder's gaze snapped up, engaging the AD's directly. "No!" he said vehemently.
"No? Then convince me why that display today doesn't warrant your dismissal from this agency. Coming so soon after the Puerto Rico debacle, it does appear to be your . . . unique way of resigning, Agent. That's what the other Directors who witnessed that scene today believe. That's why I've got your termination papers right here - al they need is my signature."
Mulder blinked back hot tears. He had been prepared for something but . . . not this. Not this calm, cool and collected boss, quietly telling him he was fired. He'd been expecting something closer to-- He shook his head and fought back the emotions that were close to boiling over inside of him.
"Please. . . ," he whispered. "I . . . I didn't mean to. I mean, I'm s-sorry about today. I-I was just so . . . . I don't know."
"Neither do I, Agent," Skinner responded. He sighed and leaned back in his chair. He'd been angry at this infuriating young man earlier, angry enough to agree when the AD in charge of the Office for Professional Responsibility offered to have the paperwork drawn up. Now though his anger had dissipated, turning into resignation and disappointment. The others were probably right about Mulder. No matter how brilliant he was, and Skinner thought he was about the best investigator he'd ever seen, there was no hope he'd ever get in line here. Perhaps it was best to end it now.
On the other side of the polished mahogany desk, Mulder's gut told him it was over. Finally. He hung his head and stared at his hands, clenching and unclenching in his lap. He was trying to feel his fingers but they'd gone cold and numb. His whole body had followed suit.
Skinner sighed again and opened the file with the termination paperwork in it. He picked up his pen and lifted it, placing the point on the line that required his signature. But something kept him from signing it. He held it there for a second, then he threw the pen down and stood up, striding over to the window, his hands going automatically to his hips in a gesture that belied his deep frustration.
Mulder's head had risen and tracked the other man's progress to the window curiously. He hadn't been watching so he didn't know the paperwork wasn't signed. A deep sense of loss descended on him like a cold shroud, enveloping him in cold finality. "Is that it?" he asked weakly.
Skinner swung around, hands on hips, dark eyes drilling a hole into the middle of the younger agent's forehead. "No," he snapped. "I'm stumped, Agent Mulder. I've tried everything I know to pull you into line. Everything disciplinary avenue the Bureau puts at my disposal and . . . at least one I'd never even considered before. And nothing works. So I'm calling in an Expert Witness. The result may be the same but . . . I want to know what the hell your problem is before I sign those papers."
Mulder's jaw went slack and he furrowed his brow in confusion. "An Expert Witness? On me? Who-who would that be?" It occurred to him the other man might mean Scully and his stomach turned several somersaults in protest.
"Yes. On you. I can think of only one person who might have the information and wherewithal to explain you to me, Agent Mulder. . . . And that's you."
Mulder's eyes widened with surprise, then he colored slightly and looked down at his hands. "I-I just told you. I don't know why . . . why I did that today. I was just . . . angry, I guess."
"You were angry?" Skinner retorted in disbelief. "I took you off wiretap surveillance. I sent you a case that speaks directly to your unusual investigatory skills. And you threw it in my face-"
"No! No, sir! I didn't meant to. . . . That's not what I thought you were doing-"
"What did you think I was doing then, Agent?" Skinner exploded. He was beyond exasperation with Mulder but his innate curiosity wouldn't let him just drop this line of inquiry. "What the hell did you think I was doing?"
"I thought-I thought you were rubbing my nose in it," Mulder responded frantically. "I thought you sent me to the sewer because . . . Because. . . . Never mind." He shook his head and bit down on his lower lip, trying to hold back whatever was threatening to come out.
"Not good enough, Agent," Skinner barked. "Because why?"
Mulder shook his head again, this time more purposefully. He was intent on avoiding any more of this discussion. But the AD took him by surprise. Suddenly the other man's face was directly in front of his, and two massive arms had clamped down on the arms of the chair.
"Because why, Agent Mulder?" Skinner insisted. His voice had lowered but the quiet, unquestionable authority made Mulder blink. Mulder shook his head again but now it was a tentative gesture.
"Because . . . ." Skinner repeated, leaving the rest of the sentence hanging.
"Because that's where you think I belong!" Mulder exclaimed as though the words had been waiting for their chance to get out. "Because I'm just a-a piece of shit the FBI has no use for! Is that what you want to hear?" He pressed his lips together and pointedly looked to the side, not wanting to make any eye contact with the other man. Every muscle in his body urged him to get up and run but the AD was blocking his path and the larger, more heavily muscled man had the added advantage of position. So Mulder was trapped. He crossed his arms over his chest and continued to stared at the wood paneled wall. Then he closed his eyes in a futile gesture that didn't help to hold back the tears burning the backs of his eyes.
Skinner was shocked at the declaration. He didn't move for a few seconds, then he stood straight up, letting his hands return to rest on his hips. He shook his head in confusion and disbelief. "Is that what you really think?" he asked. Honest puzzlement underscored his words.
"Oh, come on!" Mulder replied derisively, trying to regain whatever shred of dignity he could still lay claim to. "Like that's not what you intended! Like letting me make a fool of myself in your office today didn't give you another little thrill-"
"Stop it!" Skinner roared, turning on him and reaching down to place his two muscled arms on the chair again, locking Mulder back in place. "I didn't force you into that scene, Agent! I gave you every opportunity to back off. You just don't know when to stop, son. Just like last week! You pushed and you pushed until . . . ." He stopped, still not certain himself how he'd let Mulder push him into his actions in this office the week before. The AD had gone over it in his mind more times than he could count. He'd often thought this agent needed a good spanking but God help him, he'd never actually considered doing it. Until last week-
Mulder's head had snapped up when Skinner raised his voice and now, despite his resolve, he was staring directly into the other man's storm darkened brown eyes. Behind the wire-rim glasses, there was no mistaking the rage reflected there.
"I-I'm sorry," Mulder said suddenly, dropping his eyes to his hands, clenched in his lap. "I-I better go. Before. . . ." He made a move toward rising and Skinner pulled his arms back instinctively, letting him continue. Mulder stood up quickly.
"Before what, Agent?" the AD asked him suddenly.
Mulder blinked at the sudden change in direction. "Before . . . . before-you know."
Skinner pressed his own lips together, buying time. Turning it all over in his head quickly, he found a rudimentary theory beginning to form. One he needed to prove or disprove for Mulder's sake. "Before . . . . WHAT?"
Mulder started at the sudden change in volume. "Before you . . . you know, do it again. . . ." His eyes found the other man's and silently pleaded to be let off the hook. To be allowed to leave without actually saying it. But the other man's glare told him that was not about to happen.
"Say it, Agent," Skinner told him firmly.
Mulder's eyes were brimming with tears and he fought them back valiantly. But it was a lost cause. "Before you . . . sp-spank me . . . again," he whispered, saying the relevant word so lowly Skinner had to strain to hear it.
Skinner nodded, sensing it was important he finally got it out. As if saying it made it real. But Skinner knew he needed to know more before deciding how to proceed. "Because that would mean . . . ," the AD continued, leading Mulder the way a good attorney might pull testimony out of a hostile witness.
"Because that would mean you-you think I'm a total fuck-up," the younger man cooperated, seemingly without knowing it. "Who needs to be treated like a-like an irresponsible kid. . . ."
This time the AD didn't nod. He simply waited for more. But Mulder lapsed into silence, his eyes glazing over as he focused on some image the other man couldn't guess at.
Finally, the AD knew he couldn't let the younger man wallow in such gross misperception. "Or that would mean I care," he said quietly. "That I'm willing to do almost anything, even risk my own career with . . . 'non-standard, highly unauthorized methods of discipline,' if there's a shred of hope it might get you within spitting distance of the line you need to walk here, Agent Mulder."
Mulder shook his head, unwilling to be led in that direction. It was . . . preposterous. "No," he said, with rising panic. "No, I don't-"
Skinner knew this was critical, this moment and this particular piece of the puzzle. He wasn't certain where he was going either but his instincts told him to follow this lead. "You don't what?" he probed further. "You don't want to believe? That I want you to succeed here? That I would like to support your work, if you'd give me an ounce of cooperation once in a while? And that I'd wallop your ass regularly if I thought it would help. . . ."
Mulder's eyes were locked on the AD's face, a look of panic covering his face. All color had drained out of his countenance in the last sixty seconds. He looked like he might flee at any moment but he didn't move a muscle. In fact, he barely breathed. Skinner watched him and the final piece of the puzzle began to fall into place.
"It didn't help though, did it, Agent Mulder?" he asked suddenly. "I mean, if it had helped, you wouldn't find yourself back here a week later, would you?" He waited for the other man's reaction.
Mulder opened his mouth and looked like he was about to speak, but no sound came out. He shut his mouth again quickly.
"So. That's it, I guess," Skinner continued, straightening up and turning away from the younger man. He began to walk slowly toward his desk. "I'm out of options. And 'extreme possibilities.' Nothing left to do but sign the papers-"
"It did help!" Mulder interrupted him. "I-I couldn't believe it at first but then . . . then I got to thinking you would be there for me, sir! And that was the first time. . . the first time I've felt that about anyone except Scully in a long time. In so many years . . . ." his voice trailed off as he choked back overpowering tears.
"Then why that scene today?" Skinner asked him softly. He didn't want to stop the stream of information that had finally begun to flow.
"I-Afterwards, you acted like it didn't happen. I-I knew you must be regretting. . . . You made me go back to my assignment and I was just sitting there listening, day after day, going crazy. Then you sent me to Newark, to the sewer and I-I knew I must have been wrong. That I'd let myself get fooled into thinking you were on my side and now . . . now you were laughing at me. Sending me on a case even worse than surveillance and . . . . Making me do one crummy, unnecessary job after another. . . . I knew you were trying to force me to quit--"
Skinner's heart lurched as he listened. He'd always known Mulder was a brilliant, well-educated, highly-intuitive agent. He never realized until now the depths of the young man's insecurity. How little he trusted his own instincts when it came to himself and his relationships. Or how hard it was for him to believe someone, anyone, would really be there for him.
"I don't want you to quit, Mulder," he said when it was clear the other man had lapsed back into silence. "I was trying to help. I was trying to give you something that would challenge you. It was the . . . the strangest thing on the caseload and I wanted to reward you for a week of good behavior."
Mulder's eyes snapped up to look at Skinner in surprise. "Oh, shit," he breathed. "I-I didn't get that, sir. I didn't recognize what that gesture was. . . ."
Skinner let a ghost of a smile turn the corners of his mouth up briefly. "In our business, Agent Mulder, we call that a clue . . . ."
Mulder snorted with sudden laughter, and took the first deep breath he'd taken in what seemed like hours. Then he remembered where he was, and why. "I guess I'm out of practice," he said sadly. "Am I . . . fired, sir?"
Skinner's eyes darkened once again and he glanced toward his desk, where the paperwork lay. "I can't let that scene today go unpunished," he said evenly. Then he glanced at Mulder. "More wiretap surveillance doesn't seem like a deterrent. Or suspension, probation. Transferring you seems like it would be punishment for your new supervisor more than you-"
Mulder smiled for a second, until it dawned on him where the Assistant Director was going with this. "I-I really hate wiretap surveillance. . . ." he offered half-heartedly.
Skinner nodded. "Not half as much as you're gonna hate this, Agent Mulder," he said as he walked over to the door to his office and locked it. Then he turned back and began to walk toward the other man. "Take off your trousers, Agent Mulder," he said lightly. "And give me your belt."
"My b-?" Mulder exclaimed, then his small, natural supply of common sense kicked in. Hands shaking slightly, he unbuckled the leather belt and withdrew it from his pants loops. Skinner put out his hand and Mulder reluctantly placed the strip of leather in the other man's grip.
"Take off your trousers," Skinner repeated his earlier instruction when it became clear that Mulder had forgotten it. The young man startled into action, unbuttoning then unzipping. He dropped his pants and stepped out of them, folding them neatly on the chair beside him. Without further instruction, he took off his jacket and hung it on the back of the guest chair, just like he'd been told the week before.
Skinner nodded his approval. "Bend over the desk," he said next.
Mulder felt the color rise in his face. His nerve endings were jumping and his flight reflex had kicked in big time. But where would he go dressed in a dress shirt, shorts and his shoes and socks? He stepped closer to the desk and leaned over the polished wood surface, burying his burning face in his folded arms. He shivered as he felt the AD lift the tail of his shirt, exposing the tight cotton boxers that were his butt's only protection.
"Owwww!" he yelled without thinking when the first burning lick fell on his cheeks. "Ohh! Oh, God! I-I'm sorry!"
"Too bad," the AD said succinctly. "We've got a long way to go before I'll place any faith in apologies, Agent Mulder." He continued to lay one burning stroke after another on the younger man's upturned butt. Soon Mulder began to squirm and wiggle, unconsciously trying to move his backside away from the ongoing punishment.
"Stay still," Skinner growled, holding up for a moment. "This is part of the discipline, Agent. You earn a licking, you take your punishment like a man. That's how I learned and that's what I will always expect from you."
Mulder choked back a sob and nodded. A small voice in his head screamed at him, noting the unspoken sub-text. *He'll ALWAYS expect it! He's gonna do this again????!!!* But he steeled himself to take the rest of the punishment as instructed. "Yaoww!" he yelled out before realizing that someone outside might hear him. It was late but people were in this building night and day. He clamped down on his lower lip and closed his eyes as the AD began to smack the belt against his bottom once again.
"Now, let's make sure you understand this, Agent," Skinner said, punctuating his words with licks from the belt. "What are you gonna do when you don't understand something I do? Or say?"
"I'll ask! I'll just-ask you!" he sobbed. The he added a final word, almost as an afterthought. 'Sir!"
Skinner smiled but didn't let his amusement tinge his voice as he spoke again. "And if you don't like something you're assigned to do? What will you do then?" He tapped out the beats of the sentence with additional strokes.
"I'll speak with you- AHH! Respectfully! I'll speak with you in a respectful way! Not like-not like . . . ." His words trailed off into a choking sob.
"That's right, Agent. You can ask me anything if you do it in a respectful manner. I'll always make myself available as soon as I can if you ask appropriately." He heard Mulder's sobs begin to turn into soul-wrenching remorse and knew it was time to bring this to a close.
"We're almost through," he said quietly, laying a hand on the younger agent's back. "One more thing. Stay with me, Mulder." He hooked a finger in the waistband of Mulder's cotton boxer and slid them down below his butt cheeks. He saw the young man's butt cheeks clench in dread and embarrassment and he instinctively reached up with his left hand and tousled Mulder's hair from behind.
"I want this part to be memorable-" he began, only to be interrupted.
"I'm not likely to forget-I won't forget any of this!" Mulder interjected frantically.
"That's what I thought last time," Skinner replied smoothly. "And now here you are-"
"I didn't forget! I remembered every detail! I just couldn't. . . ." He let the words fall off into nothing.
"Couldn't what?" Skinner pressed him, applying the belt to the reddened backside perfectly presented to him. He felt Mulder flinch as the leather made direct contact with his already sore behind.
"I-I don't know," Mulder ground out between clenched teeth. Skinner could tell he was struggling not to cry again. Or not to answer the question. Either was unacceptable. The Assistant Director applied a half dozen additional strokes and pushed for an answer. "You couldn't what, Agent?"
Mulder struggled to stay still and to stay silent but the fresh burning licks loosened his tongue and tumbled the psychological walls. "I couldn't believe it!" he cried. "I couldn't believe you spanked me! Or that you . . . you gave a shit what happened to me! And I thought-" he sobbed openly, not holding back anything. "I thought you'd given up on me for good! I just wanted to see. . . ." His words were cut off by wracking sobs as every internal barrier collapsed at once.
Skinner stopped swinging and threw the belt down on the chair behind him, on top of Mulder's clothes. Then he pulled the younger man's shorts up as gently as he could, knowing even that light, soft material would sting as it pulled over his freshly spanked cheeks. With his left hand, he guided the younger man to a standing position, then he turned him so that Mulder was looking directly toward him. He put a hand on each of Mulder's shoulders and silently demanded his attention. Reluctantly, tears streaming down his face, the young agent raised his head so that he was looking at the other man.
"You wanted to see if I'd do it again," Skinner finished the sentence finally. "You wanted to see if you could push me far enough to prove it to you, one way or the other, right Mulder? If I fired you, you'd know I was never really there for you. Or if I let you just self-destruct, you'd know you were right all along."
Mulder nodded without really knowing he'd done it. He pressed his lips together and closed his eyes momentarily, trying to obliterate the stark reality with which the AD was confronting him. And what he'd just admitted.
"But if I . . . punished you again, you'd know you had a friend at the FBI," Skinner added, finally understanding the unfathomable behavior he'd witnessed that afternoon. He took a leap of faith about how to address it.
"I promise you, I'm on your side, son," he said quietly. "I can't reopen the X-Files. Not now. And I'll be riding you hard, reviewing your work every step of the way. That's what the Bureau expects right now. And that's what I think you need to stay on track. I won't hesitate to . . . to do this again, if I think it's warranted."
Mulder blanched in alarm and Skinner chuckled, with relief more than humor. "I mean it, Agent Mulder. You can take that promise to the bank. I won't go easy on you but . . . I'll be here for you. Period."
Mulder blinked, then nodded so slightly Skinner almost missed it. A ringing phone interrupted them and they both looked around quickly, trying to determine where it was coming from. At the same moment they both realized it was Mulder's cell phone, in the pocket of his suit jacket.
"Oh, God!" he breathed, knowing his voice was heavy with tears. No one who heard him could miss the fact he'd been crying hard, he thought in a panic.
Skinner recognized his concern and acted. He pulled the phone out of the pocket and answered it. "Hello?"
The caller didn't recognize that Skinner wasn't Mulder and proceeded to pass along the information she'd called to deliver. "I see. Thank you. Yes. Yes, in about two hours, I'd say."
Mulder watched him, wondering to whom he was speaking. His questions didn't go unanswered for long. Skinner disconnected and spoke quickly.
"Another sewer worker was attacked, Agent Mulder. He's alive but they're taking him to the hospital. You told them to contact you if anything else happened . . . ."
Mulder's face screwed up in consternation. "Another attack? I thought-I was sure it was a gangland body dump. . . ."
Skinner watched as the information reorganized itself inside Mulder's brain. He was normally fairly stoic and unreadable but today, with his walls down and emotions completely engaged, his face reflected every step of his internal process. Next came the realization that he'd nearly overlooked a case that did speak to his strengths and interests as an FBI Agent. And earned himself punishment for virtually no reason at all. He paled.
Skinner let out a deep breath, then he placed one hand back on Mulder's shoulder. "It wasn't for nothing, Mulder. Not if you go away knowing something you didn't know before."
Mulder's hazel eyes grew wide with surprise. "How did you know. . . ?"
Skinner shook his head. "We all have our mysteries to unravel, Agent Mulder. One of yours is waiting in Newark right now. Go."
Mulder nodded quickly. He turned to leave, heading for the door.
"Mulder!" Skinner called after him. The younger agent turned, clearly confused. "Get dressed first."
Mulder glanced down at his legs, bare from where his dress shirt ended to the tops of his dark socks and colored with embarrassment. "Oh. Yeah," he said, rushing back, hurriedly stepping into his pants and fastening them. He threaded the belt through the loops, missing one but Skinner didn't bother to call his attention to it. Then he rushed toward the door again, pulling his suit jacket on as he went. "Thank you, sir," he called back as he left, leaving the door open in his wake.
The AD watched him until he'd disappeared out of the outer office, wondering if Mulder had a clue what he'd just said. Then he exhaled slowly and walked back to his desk, settling down in his chair with another deep sigh. His eyes located the paperwork on the desk in front of him and he straightened the papers and closed the file peremptorily.
"We all have our mysteries to unravel," he repeated to himself softly. The forces in and outside the FBI that sought to destroy Mulder were a mystery to the Assistant Director and the complicated young man against whom they conspired was another. Skinner knew he couldn't appear to have thrown in with Mulder if he was going to be able to help the agent but he no longer had any doubts on which side of the line he himself stood. Understanding Mulder though, that was another story altogether.
He shook his head, anticipating a rough road ahead. "Thank God I have an expert witness to consult occasionally about you, Agent Mulder."
THE END