Hard Evidence
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 "Little Green Men"
Setting: Second Season. Immediately follows the episode "Little Green Men." Not a part of the Danville Universe
Rating: PG. Discipline, no slash.
Author's note: This story was inspired by DiAnn during an on-list discussion about our "Favorite Fox's." This image got in my brain and wouldn't go away until I wrote it!
Summary: What if Mulder pushed Skinner just a little bit further following his ill-considered trip to Puerto Rico?
AD Skinner's Office
FBI Headquarters
Washington, DC
The Cigarette-Smoking Man stood, looking out the window, sucking deeply on a cigarette. He didn't have to watch the action. He knew what would transpire
Assistant Director Walter Skinner glared at the young agent standing on the other side of his desk. He was as angry as he'd ever been at a subordinate. The fact was, if there were not a witness, and some strict rules about appropriate forms of discipline, he'd throttle said young agent right here and now. He took a deep breath, released it abruptly and walked around the desk.
Special Agent Fox Mulder watched him come out of his peripheral vision. He needed no help understanding that Skinner was enraged. The AD was decidedly by the book, tolerated nothing less from his subordinates. Mulder had only worked for him for a little over a year and in that time he'd run up against the man's impatience with his decidedly not by the book approach to investigations. But this time, he'd stomped all over the rule book as he pursued an unauthorized investigation to Puerto Rico, leaving his post unattended. Mulder tensed and crossed his shaking hands behind his back as Skinner approached.
"You left your offsite set-up," he said, wasting no time on niceties. "Another brick agent had to cover your ass. The entire surveillance, all the months of work on this case, gone."
Skinner began to walk back toward his desk and Mulder knew that was it. His gut clenched as the reality of what was about to happen became crystal clear. But the Assistant Director wasn't content to let Mulder off that easy.
"Just like you, gone. This has four-bagger all over it, Mulder. Censure, transfer, suspension, probation. . . ."
The agent's head popped up, as a measure of his innate rebelliousness surfaced. "I understand that leaving my assignment warrants disciplinary action and I'm willing to accept those measures-"
Skinner interrupted him, recognizing the inevitable protest under his outward contrition. "But?"
Mulder's face contorted with the anger he'd been holding down until now. "But I had enough on that surveillance to arrest those suspects! After three days, I could have nailed them on forty counts of bank fraud but you left me there. I'm surprised you even noticed I was gone. . . Let alone wiretap my phone... an illegal procedure without a court order."
Skinner's head snapped to where the Cigarette-Smoking Man was standing, a look of shocked outrage passing briefly over his stony countenance. The smoker didn't bother to answer the unspoken question. He stubbed his cigarette in an ashtray on the side table and walked over to Mulder.
"Your time is over," he spat at the young agent. "And you leave with nothing-"
"Get out," the AD said from behind the Cigarette-Smoking Man.
Mulder's heart lurched and he fought back the tears that burned behind his eyes at the thought it was really all over. He'd never had any special reason to believe Skinner would be on his side, if push came to shove. And yet, he'd believed it anyway in some small corner of his heart. He studiously avoided eye contact with the older smoking man who was pointedly in his face. Instead he looked toward Skinner, hoping against hope there was something he could do to salvage his career. Mulder was stunned to see the Assistant Director's trademark glare was in fact trained on the CSM.
"I said get the hell out," Skinner barked.
The Cigarette-Smoking Man noticed Mulder's strange expression and turned to Skinner. He was stunned to realize that the AD had directed that order to him. Skinner glared at him, waiting. The visitor took a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, put one in his mouth and lit it, taking his time as the other two merely watched him. In a moment, he strolled leisurely out of the office as Mulder's eyes followed him and watched the door close behind him.
"Report back to your assignment," Skinner bit out, turning to return to his desk.
"A minute ago, I was a four-bagger," Mulder argued, not able to stop himself. "Do you want me to make the arrests?"
"I think we need more to go on," Skinner said shortly, picking up a file on his desk and turning his attention to it, silently dismissing the younger man. "Continue the surveillance."
Mulder pressed his lips together and shook his head slightly, not understanding what had just transpired. He took a couple of steps toward the door and opened it. Then his tenuous grip on common sense abandoned him and he slammed the door closed again and turned just as Skinner's head popped up from whatever he was reading.
"I'd think you have all the evidence you need to make a decision," Mulder snapped. "I'd think even you could figure out what to do, given all the evidence I've provided."
Skinner's mouth opened in shock. He'd always thought this agent was a hothead, never more so than when he walked away from his assignment on this case. But this behavior was intolerable. "You are absolutely right," he said suddenly. Then he rose and pointed at the door. "Lock it," he growled.
For his part, Mulder had nearly suffered heart failure when he heard the words that had come out of his own mouth a moment earlier. He was angry but he couldn't remember ever having demonstrated a death wish before, no matter how enraged he got about petty bureaucratic nonsense. Mulder knew down to his shoes there was no excuse for the kind of disrespect he'd just shown the AD. He nodded spastically, relieved the other man was going to let him just leave after behaving so badly. He took a hurried step toward the door, opened it and stepped into the outer office. He reached behind the door and turned the lock, then began to pull the door to a close behind him.
"Mulder!" Skinner roared.
The younger agent stopped in his tracks, all his nerve endings jumping at the predicament he'd let his mouth back him into. He poked his head from behind the door. "Y-yes, sir," he said weakly.
"I said lock the door. I meant with you on the inside," Skinner said, investing each work with the power of his authority.
"W-with me ins-side?" Mulder repeated, not sure he'd understood.
"With you inside," Skinner echoed. He was standing behind his desk and he opened the middle drawer and began to rummage around for something.
Mulder was baffled. He did as instructed, coming back into the office, closing the door again and locking it. Then he turned to Skinner, not sure what the hell might be coming next. He was shocked and speechless when he saw the other man pull an eighteen-inch wooden ruler from his desk drawer. The younger agent furrowed his brow, unsure what the AD was going to do next.
"Come over here," Skinner said, coming around his desk to the front, then stopping to lean on the dark, polished wood surface.
"Over there?" Mulder answered. He didn't make a move to comply, not sure his legs would move if he wanted them to.
"Over here," Skinner said, raising his voice suddenly.
Mulder turned his head to the door, staring at it as if it would offer him some advice. He knew it was after office hours and there was no one in the outer office. Even if he could unlock the door and open it, then make his escape, Skinner would be on top of him in no time.
"Agent Mulder, what did I just say," the AD bellowed. The shock of it made Mulder move in his direction but now his eyes were locked on the ruler the other man held in his right hand. What the hell is that for, Mulder wondered silently as his body instinctively followed the order he'd just been given. He came to a stop a pace away from the other man and his hands automatically crossed behind his back once again. He found himself staring at Skinner's spit-polished black shoes.
"I agree with you, Agent Mulder," Skinner was saying. "I don't need any more evidence to decide what to do. Take off your trousers."
Mulder's head snapped up and his face turned crimson. "Wh-what? I-You c-can't--- I mean. . . Okay, I admit it, I was out of line," he stammered. "I'm s-sorry for what I said-"
"Too late, Agent," Skinner said ominously. "Very nice, but too late. You have acted like an irresponsible, bratty, disrespectful schoolboy. I have a whole list of Bureau-sanctioned disciplinary measures at my disposal but not one of them is likely to prevent a repeat offense, is it?"
He glared at the younger man who was now turning pale in the face of what he was hearing. "I don't think any of those measures will work. But I don't believe ending your career's the right answer either. So I'm going to use an old-fashioned method that worked fine on me when I was a bratty, irresponsible kid. Take off your trousers. Now, Agent."
Mulder's eyes were locked on the other man's face. He watched each move, each twitch on the AD's face, looking for a hint that the man was running a bluff. There was nothing. His eyes widened with real fear.
"I-I don't have to. . . I mean, you c-can't-"
"Before the other day, I would have said even you couldn't just walk off an assignment," Skinner told him evenly. "I was wrong. You are too."
Mulder blanched at the finality of his words. His brain was screaming at him to just refuse, to turn on his heel and leave the office. The other man wouldn't stop him. Couldn't. It would be illegal to detain him against his will. An out-and-out violation of the FBI's rules. And yet . . . this was not in the rulebook either. His mind desperately searched for some theory by which to understand this unfathomable turn of events but nothing came to his mind except the fact the other man was expecting him to drop his pants and submit to a spanking. *Jeezus fucking Christ, Mulder! This has got to be a hallucination.*
"Don't make me repeat myself again, Agent," Skinner said, scowling at him. "You will have good reason to regret it."
Mulder's breathing had turned quick and shallow in the last minute. He was beginning to feel a little light-headed, as though he were watching his own actions from outside his body. He was shocked to realize his right hand moved reflexively to his belt and began unbuckling it. In a moment his trousers were around his ankles and Skinner had instructed him to fold them neatly and lay them on the guest chair, along with his jacket.
Now he stood there in his shirt and tie, gray boxers peeking out from below his white dress shirt. He felt a little strange wearing a tie and shoes and socks under the circumstances but he had no desire to remove any more clothing.
A stray thought crossed his mind and he grabbed it and hung on for dear life. Maybe this was an object lesson and Skinner would simply reprimand him again and send him on his way. That possibility comforted him for all of two seconds, until Skinner's strong left hand reached out and pulled the younger man down over his knees. His right hand lifted the tail of Mulder's shirt and then the ruler cracked loudly as it came down across the thin cotton of his shorts.
"Ouchh!" Mulder yelled, as he tried to pull up and away. But Skinner's arm locked down on his back like a vise. The awkwardness of his position made it impossible for the younger man to get away and the ruler found its mark again. And again. And again, one smack after another landing on the meatiest part of the agent's backside. "Ahh! OWWW! I'm s-sorry! I-I'm s-sorry, sir! I won't do it again," he pleaded over and over, trying to convince the AD he'd learned his lesson. But the other man kept up the angry rhythm he was beating out on the upturned butt.
Finally, Skinner spoke but he didn't let up on the pace. "Are you certain you've learned this lesson, Agent Mulder?" he asked, punctuating his words with additional whacks.
"Yes! YES SIR!" Mulder yelled.
Skinner let him have a couple more whacks, then he stopped, his own heart pounding from the exertion of spanking the younger agent and holding him down at the same time. He let Mulder go and the other man popped up and stepped away, his hands instinctively going back to rub his sore posterior. Despite his best efforts, a sob escaped and he bit down on his lower lip to keep the ones that wanted to follow at bay.
Skinner stood up, too. He took a deep, calming breath, then he walked across the room to the private bathroom off his office. He pulled a clean handkerchief from his pocket and stepped into the lavatory. He wet it, then filled a glass with cold water. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Mulder pulling his trousers back on and buttoning them, then rebuckling his leather belt. Skinner waited until he was dressed again, then he brought the water and cool handkerchief to the silently sobbing younger man.
"Here," he said quietly, handing the wet hanky to the other man. Mulder took it and mopped his tear-soaked face with it quickly. When he'd finished, Skinner gave him the glass of water and watched him down it in one long gulp.
Mulder's face burned with shame. He didn't know what embarrassed him more. That the AD had spanked him like a naughty little boy. Or that he'd reacted exactly like said naughty little boy. He purposely avoided looking at the other man.
"Agent Mulder, I don't regret doing that," Skinner said quietly. "If it serves to modify your . . . behavior, even the slightest, it will be well worth it. For both of us."
Mulder's long eyelashes, now wet with tears, flickered but he continued to stare at the floor between him and Skinner. The AD laid a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it briefly. Then he walked away, heading back to his desk. He sat down and picked up the file that was still sitting in the center of the desktop.
"Return to the surveillance," he said, as if nothing had interrupted their discussion.
Mulder's eyes snapped to the Assistant Director's face but the other man already seemed engrossed in whatever he was reading. Mulder nodded almost imperceptibly and left the office, not certain what, if anything had just happened. The only evidence he had was his stinging rear end. And that was not evidence he was willing to share with anyone.
THE END