Swift Justice

by DiAnn



E-mail: scarlet679@hotmail.com

Summary: Mulder finds trouble and swift retribution. Challenge story.

Disclaimer: Not mine.



A furious Walter Skinner sat gripping the steering wheel of his car so tightly his knuckles were turning white. He'd had to cancel two employee reviews, a meeting with the Director and a handball game, all so he could drive to some back-hills, hick town in Virginia to bail Agent Fox Mulder out of jail.

He kept his eyes on the road and his speedometer at well over the legal limit as he planned all the shit duty and punishment assignments he would force on Mulder for this little fiasco.

He arrived in Murphyville at just past 10:00 PM. The combination of the long drive, anger and no dinner had, if anything, made him even more angry than he had been when he had left the Hoover Building.

He slammed his car door and stalked into the police station to face one blue-clad officer sitting behind a raised desk, a look of utter boredom on his pudgy face.

Skinner flipped open his ID, practically shoving it at the man. "I understand you have a federal officer under arrest. I'd like to clear this matter up as soon as possible and be on my way back to DC."

"Well, I'm sure you would, but it just don't work like that in Murphyville, Mr. Assistant Director."

Skinner gritted his teeth, "I'm sure we can work something out. Why don't you just get all the paperwork in order while I talk with my agent."

"No can do. He's due in court in fifteen minutes. You can see him when it's all over."

"Court? He was just arrested this morning."

"Judge Todd doesn't believe in delaying justice like you big city boys are wont to do. We make the arrest, and Judge Todd hears the case, usually in the same day. He's fair but tough. You may not get to take that boy of yours home with you like you're in such an all-fired hurry to do."

"We'll just see about that! Where is the courtroom?"

"Across the street, second floor, but it won't do you no good. Judge Todd is gonna' make sure your boy is punished but good."

Skinner hurried across the street, his fists clenched inside his coat pockets. How did Mulder always manage to get himself into these things? And more importantly, how was Skinner going to get Mulder out of it. He could not allow Mulder to cool his heels in a jail for a few months, it wasn't safe for a federal officer to be incarcerated, even in a one horse town like this one.

The AD slipped in through the door of the only courtroom to find his agent, dressed in the usual orange jumpsuit, sitting alone at the defendants table. He looked totally dejected, his shoulders hunched, his head hanging almost to his cuffed wrists on the table in front of him. A big scowling deputy sheriff stood guard over him, hand resting on the butt of his gun as if he feared Mulder capable of the worst kind of violence at any minute. Hell, maybe he was.

There weren't many other people in the courtroom, which was understandable considering the late hour. There was a man at the other table who had to be the prosecuting attorney, even though he looked all of seventeen. There was another deputy, the court clerk and the bailiff standing over by a door that probably lead to the judge's chambers. The front seats in the gallery were occupied by one man, in a wrinkled lab coat, and two woman, one perhaps in her fifties the other at least seventy. Two scruffy looking old men, who looked like they used the courtroom for their daily entertainment, were sitting further in the back. The air in the room seemed quiet and oppressive.

Leaning against a far wall, glaring hatefully at the despondent young defendant was a man who could only be the local sheriff. He was a big man, probably played football in high school, the muscle just beginning to settling into fat as he approached middle age. His salt and pepper hair was still thick but his eyes had grown cold in his face. A face that showed the effects of a promising future turned to disappointment and bitterness. Skinner grimaced when he noticed the sheriff was shorting a split lip.

The bailiff called for everyone to stand as the judge entered. Judge Todd was tall and distinguished, with a no-nonsense demeanor, his black robe flowing behind him as he spared one glance at the sheriff before peering angrily at Mulder.

As the agent had awkwardly gained his feet, Skinner found himself experiencing a wave of anger at the angry bruise that covered the younger man's left cheekbone. He wondered is the sheriff were responsible for the injury.

"Fox Mulder." The bailiff called in a clear, strong voice. "Breaking and entering. Destruction of private property. Assaulting a police officer."

The judge trained a malicious eye on Mulder. "You've waved your right to counsel, young man. Is that correct?"

"He said he couldn't work with me, your honor."

"What he said, young man," the judge spoke through a tightly clenched jaw, "was that you were a brat and _he_ refused to represent you."

"I'm a federal officer, sir, and I . . ."

"And," the judge didn't give him time to finish his statement. "From what Jimmy Bill," he nodded toward the sheriff, "has told me, I would have to concur with that assessment."

The judge turned to the prosecutor, "Call your first witness, Joel."

"Your honor?" All eyes turned to Skinner as he stood up. "I'd like to offer myself as a character witness for Agent Mulder. I'm Assistant Director Walter Skinner of the FBI, and Agent Mulder's direct supervisory officer."

Skinner wanted to smile as his agent looked for all the world like he might faint from relief. Skinner, however, kept his face completely impassive. Someone in this courtroom should maintain some professionalism.

"So you're the one supposed to be controlling this undisciplined young man?"

"Agent Mulder is under my command, yes sir."

"Well why don't you just come on up here and sit beside your _agent_, Assistant Director, and see first hand how we deal with young troublemakers in Murphyville" When Skinner had seated himself by his grateful agent, the judge again turned to the prosecutor. "Joel, first witness?"

The baby-faced attorney spoke, his voice cracking. "I call Dr. James Peterson."

"Just calm down, Joel." The judge soothed. "I know this is your first case but it's an easy one."

Skinner scowled at the judge. So much for a fair trial. The Director may have to be called in on this first thing in the morning, though Skinner would rather avoid that if possible for Mulder's sake.

One of the men in the front row rose and took the witness chair, he too glared at Mulder.

"Do you recognize his man, Dr. Peterson?" Joel pointed at Mulder.

"Yes, he broke into my medical clinic at 3:00 a.m. this morning. "We're positive he was looking for drugs. I could tell by the black leather jacket he was wearing. He looked just like a street punk I saw arrested on 'Cops' last week."

Skinner kicked Mulder shin under the table. He was so tired of that black leather adventure suit of Mulder's.

"Ouch!" Mulder glared at Skinner and then jumped to his feet to object. "I object to that! I wasn't after . . ."

"That's enough, son. You'll get your chance to ask the Doc your questions. Now just sit down and be quiet. Go ahead, Joel."

"Was anything actually taken, Dr. Peterson?" Joel continued.

"No, the lady who lives across the street, Millie Harmon, called the sheriff and he got there before he could finish the drug heist."

Mulder rolled his eyes and Skinner kicked his shin under the table yet again.

"Ouch!"

The judge scowled at Mulder who immediately clamped his lips shut, shooting what he hoped was a suitable dangerous look to his kicking boss.

"What happened after the sheriff arrived, Dr. Peterson?"

"That criminal dodged around the sheriff and ran out the front door. Drug ingestion can often times cause someone to have bursts of extraordinary speed and agility. Yet anther reason I'm convinced he's a druggie."

"Thank you, Dr. Peterson." Joel smiled at the man who had delivered him into the world. "No further questions, your honor."

"All right you can ask your questions now, Mr. Mulder."

Mulder rose, the too large orange jumpsuit hanging off his slender body, making him look like a little boy playing dress-up. "What were you doing at the clinic at 3:00 a.m., Dr. Peterson?"

"Catching up on some paperwork. I often keep odd hours in the clinic. Too much work, too little time."

Mulder snorted at the man's answer. "Isn't it true, Dr. Peterson, that you were actually there doing illegal and immoral medical experimentation on unwilling American citizens?"

"What? No!"

"And isn't it true, doctor, that you are part of an on-going government conspiracy to aid in the colonization of earth by extra terrestrials. And that your innocent looking little medical clinic is, in reality, a secret alien cloning laboratory?"

The courtroom went deadly silent. Skinner moaned and buried his head in his hands, looking up only to see Mulder staring at him, wide eyes doing that slow innocent blink that tended to drive his boss insane.

"Alien clones?" The doctor screeched. "You're not only a big-city street punk and a drug dealer, you're insane!" The doctor tried to scramble back in his chair to get away from the psycho boy in front of him.

"Very good acting, Dr. Peterson!" Mulder accused. "Where are they? The alien hybrids and the green slime you grow them in? Just where are you hiding them, Doctor?"

"No! No, you're crazy. Stay away form me!"

The judge rose ominously from his chair. "Sit down, young man!" Judge Todd turned cold eyes on Skinner. "How many more like this one do you have hidden away up there in Washington, Assistant Director Skinner?"

"I can say without reservation, your honor, that Agent Mulder is one of a kind."

"Well thank heavens for small favors. Maybe there is some hope for our grand government after all. Joel, call your next witness."

"Millie Harmon." The older woman in the front row rose, her arm being patted reassuringly by the younger woman at her side. She slowly made her way to the witness stand.

"Now Aunt Millie, just tell the court what you saw." Joel soothed the nervous woman.

"I couldn't sleep, so I was up watching television when my little dog, Angel Muffin, started barking to beat the band. Now I'm not one to pry into what my neighbors are up too, mind you, but I happened to have my telescope set up at the window so I looked out and saw that young man breaking into the medical clinic across the street."

"How did you know he was breaking in, Millie?"

"I could see he was using a lock-pick. I know because I saw one used on 'Law and Order' a few weeks back."

Skinner kicked his agent under the table again. He hated that damned lock pick of Mulder's too.

"Ouch!" Mulder tried to scoot his chair further away from Skinner's long legs.

"Then Angel Muffin and I went outside to guard the entrance until the sheriff could arrive. I was mighty scared and so was my little dog, but I've lived in this town for seventy-three years, and no big city gang-member boy is going to force me to stay inside."

"So what happened when the sheriff got there, Millie?"

"He told me to stay back. Sheriff Jimmy Bill is always so considerate of the older folks in town, you know. Anyway, he went in the building. I heard some yelling and then that terrible young man came running out with Jimmy Bill struggling along behind him." She turned to the sheriff. "You really need to lose a few pounds, dear. Then that boy savagely attacked our good sheriff."

"Your witness, Mr. Mulder."

"Mrs. Harmon, I didn't really attack the sheriff now did I? In fact, I was the one attacked by your vicious little dog."

"Angel Muffin is not vicious." The old woman looked at the judge with tears in her bright blue eyes. "When this man ran out of the clinic, Angel Muffin started running around his feet, barking."

"Yipping." Mulder corrected.

"Barking," the older woman narrowed her eyes at the disrespectful young man. "I have to give this particular criminal credit, he did try not to step on my Angel Muffin, but he got tangled up in his own feet and feel backwards landing on the sheriff. Plumb busted our poor Jimmy Bill's lip. While I had my handkerchief to the sheriff's mouth, this horrid boy ran away."

"Thank you, Millie." The judge smiled at the old woman. "You can step down now. "And you," Todd pointed at Mulder can sit down too. Do we have any other witnesses?"

"Your honor," Skinner stood up. "I would just like to say that Agent Mulder is one of my finest agents and although his investigative techniques are oftentimes hard to understand, his solve rate is outstanding. He is a brilliant and gifted asset to the bureau. It would be a grave injustice to ruin the career of a young man who has taken so many killers off the streets. He bravely risks his life everyday to make the county safer for all of us, and I for one, think that should count for something."

The judge studied the forlorn man sitting beside the Assistant Director, then he looked around the room at the people he had been elected to serve.

"Stand up, son." When Mulder rose to his feet, the judge continued to stare at him until he began to fidget.

"The sheriff had seventeen complaints about you today, son. You went all over town yesterday asking people about missing time, alien visitation, unexplained lights in the night sky. You tried to get in to see Dr. Peterson, and when that appointment was denied you waited until the dark of night and broke into his clinic. Then you fled the scene of the crime. My understanding is that it took three deputies to finally get you locked up in our jail. I have no doubt that you are a good agent. I believe that you are because of your determination, your obvious intelligence and the fact that man to your right says you are. He doesn't strike me as a man who would lie, even to save one of his own."

Skinner nodded his thanks.

"So while I think you deserve to be punished for your uh, crimes. I am not going to do anything to jeopardize your law enforcement career. Therefore my judgement is that you are hereby fined $500 and sentenced to be publicly punished. Sentence to be carried out immediately."

"What! You can't do that!"

"You will be quiet, Agent Mulder, or I will find you in contempt of court, render a guilty verdict on all charges, and you _will_ do jail time. And, if I'm not mistaken, federal agents are not allowed to retain their badges if they are convicted of a crime. Am I not correct, Mr. Skinner."

Skinner nodded his head, one steadying hand going to rest on Mulder's arm. When Mulder opened his mouth as if to protest again, his boss slipped a big arm around his neck, pulling him up against his chest. The other hand coming up to cover his mouth.

"Take the deal, Mulder!" The AD hissed in the younger man's ear. "Take the damned deal and let's get out of here."

When Mulder nodded, Skinner released him to stand quietly by his side. "Agent Mulder agrees to abide by your sentence without further objections, your honor."

"Fine. Sentence to be carried out in fifteen minutes in this courtroom. Bailiff go cut a good sturdy switch from that old hickory tree out back. Ladies," the judge turned to the two women in the front row. "I intend that this young man feel his discipline on his bare backside. You are free to leave the courtroom if you would prefer."

"I'm staying!" Millie proclaimed.

"That's your choice, Aunt Millie. Deputy Myers put a 'Court Recessed' sign on the front door and lock it. Jimmy Bill, bring that table and chair over here and set them in the middle of the floor. Make sure you leave lots of room around them. There's going to be some frenzied activity taking place there."

A sturdy wooden, waist-high library table and a straight-back chair were moved to stand in front of the judge's raised bench. Skinner noticed the two old men had moved up from the back to take seats in the front, leaning on the rail that separated spectators from attorneys. He looked over at Mulder. His face was bright red and he was trembling but he was staring straight ahead, face impassive. Probably wouldn't stay that way for long.

AD Skinner," The AD looked up to see the judge's eyes boring into him. "If you don't feel comfortable administering this sentence, I will have Sheriff Osgood do it in your stead. I'm quite sure however, that this boy's actions while in Murphyville are not something new to him, and that you would agree he is long overdue for a good reining in."

Skinner glanced again at his trembling agent. "I'll administer Agent Mulder's punishment, your honor."

"Fine, Assistant Director Skinner. I assume that you know what I expect of you?"

"Yes, your honor. I'll make it memorable for him."

"Fine. Bailiff, uncuff the prisoner and bring him up front to be prepared to receive his court-ordered correction."

The bailiff grabbed Mulder's arm leading him stumbling to the front of the court like a lamb to slaughter. Skinner didn't think he'd ever seen Mulder close in on himself like this but he supposed it might be better for him to get through this. Mulder had gotten himself in a real mess this time, and there was not way out, for either of them.

Skinner looked over the ugly orange one piece jumpsuit, then looked up into Mulder's eyes and saw that his agent was well aware of what was about to happen to his dignity.

Skinner appealed to the man looking down on them from the bench. "Your honor, I would ask that my agent be allowed to change clothing for modesty's sake."

"Humiliation is a good part of any whipping sentence I hand out, AD Skinner, otherwise this would be taking place in my chambers behind closed doors. Bare him for punishment."

"I'm sorry, Mulder."

The agent flushed even brighter but nodded at his boss. "It's not like I have a lot of options, sir, but you could get out of this."

"Yeah, you pretty much painted yourself in a corner, but I'll see it through with you. I'll have to be hard on you. Todd won't except less, I want you to know that. Now, kick off your shoes and lets get this over with." As Mulder ridded himself of the lightweight jail issue sandals, Skinner reached for the zipper at the front of the one piece suit. They hadn't allowed the young man to retain any of his street clothing. As the jumpsuit was pulled down, his naked body was slowly revealed for all to see.

"Are you okay, Mulder?" The agent looked down at his bare feet, avoiding the eyes of his avid audience, his face and chest flushed a burning red. The tips of his ears positively glowing. He nodded without looking up.

"Agent Mulder," the judge commanded. "I want you to face the bench, back straight." After only a few moments hesitation, he complied, giving the gallery a perfect view of his round, tight butt. "Lock your hands behind your head, son, and don't move them until I tell you. There will be extra strokes for not following orders. Now, since you acted like a brat, I plan to start your punishment like one. Mr. Skinner you will take this young man over your knee for a good old-fashioned bare bottom spanking. I'm not going to tell you how many to give him, but I expect this brash young federal agent to have been replaced by a thoroughly blistered and sobbing little boy when you're finished. Do I make myself clear, Assistant Director Skinner?"

"Yes, your honor." He sat down in the chair and pulled a dazed and blushing Mulder over his knee, adjusting him until the condemned white bottom was high in the air over his lap.

The sheriff and his deputies had moved up to stand less than three feet away. It was obvious that they intended to have an unobstructed view of Mulder's tear-streaked face as well as his reddening rump.

Mulder was determined not to cry. And perhaps that plan would have worked, had not the man carrying out the spanking not known his assigned victim quite so well. Skinner knew that if he didn't deliver a good hard spanking to his agent, the younger man would soon find himself over the sheriff's willing knee for another even harsher lesson. He didn't intend to let that happen. Mulder would cry real tears over this, and plenty of them.

The first slap landed with a loud crack right in the middle of the rounded right cheek. Another of equal intensity soon followed on the left cheek. Mulder's body flinched but he managed to keep his lips pressed firmly together as his butt was peppered with a barrage of hard, stinging slaps.

From his upside down position, Mulder could see three pairs of highly shined black shoes in his line of sight. Leave it to the damned sheriff not to want to miss one single slap that was connecting with his unprotected backside. Mulder closed his eyes as a couple of tears threatened to spill down his cheeks. He could just imagine how much that ridiculously young DA and that arrogant doctor were enjoying this spectacle he was being forced to make of himself.

Skinner just kept pounding his rapidly reddening butt, the burn building to fiery proportions. The agent couldn't help the bouncing of his abused backside or the kicking of his legs, but he refused to let them hear him cry. He clamped down on his resolve as the fire in his backside burned out of control. And just when Mulder was sure his scalded seat couldn't take one more slap, Skinner moved to the back of his thighs. The pain was horrendous, and the first cry of agony escaped the agent's sealed lips.

When the color of Mulder's thighs matched that of his blazing bottom, Skinner moved back to the two scarlet mounds of abused flesh awaiting his further attention. He moved the howling agent's legs apart, revealing several areas of usually hidden, tender white skin. These next scathing spanks would be the one to send the well-punished man over the edge into crying and begging. Which was exactly what it was going to take to satisfy the judge that Skinner was doing an adequate job with his current assignment.

As Skinner meticulously slapped the delicate skin that separated cheek from cheek, and butt from thigh, Mulder was reduced to woeful sobbing, heartfelt promises of reform, and frantic pleas for mercy. All thoughts of bravery and dignity long beaten out of him.

Skinner moved to slap the sizzling bottom cheeks once more. The agent raised his head and howled to the ceiling, begging Skinner to stop. Finally Mulder just collapsed over his chastiser's knees, his bare butt a mass of flaming, blistered skin, it's owner a sobbing, repentant wreck.

"I think that will do, Assistant Director Skinner."

The AD rose, pulling his remorseful agent up with him.

"Turn and face the bench, Mr. Mulder."

The agent did so, still hopping from foot to foot as he displayed his well-spanked bottom to his captivated audience.

"Now that your bare bottom has been properly prepared for punishment, you will now receive six strokes of a hickory switch. Have you ever been switched before, Mr. Mulder?"

"N . . .no, sir. Please, your honor, no more."

"Then it should be quite an enlightening experience for you. And I'm sure your reaction will be very entertaining for the rest of us. There's nothing quiet like the sting a good hickory switch, especially on a freshly tenderized backside. You are to lean across the table and hold on the edge, boy. Don't try to get up. We expect you to dance under the switch but you must not attempt to stand up until it's over. Proceed Mr. Skinner."

Skinner laid the switch across the already red, sore target, lifted it over his right shoulder and brought it down with a sharp crack. The effect was instantaneous. Mulder screamed, fighting to retain his bent-over position as his bottom withered on the table and his feet danced on the floor. A thin red line of pure fire painted itself across the tortured backside. Skinner raised his switch again.

The second and third stripes earned wails and more desperate wriggling of bottom and legs from the tormented agent. Skinner looked up to see the judge looking down with satisfaction on the agent's agonized face and burning backside.

Through a haze of anger, Skinner laid on the next three welts one right after the other in quick succession. Giving Mulder little time to react or even comprehend one stroke from the next. When it was finally over, six thin raised welts decorated the once white bottom, the once confident agent reduced to a sobbing well-punished boy."

Skinner started to pull his agent up from the table to be stopped by the judge.

"Just a moment, Mr. Skinner. Jimmy Bill, what's your opinion?"

The sheriff walked casually over to the weeping agent. He started to probe at one of the welts with a big, blunt finger but was surprised when the AD slapped his hand away. "Don't touch him."

The sheriff glared into the angry, brown eyes of the big-city man now confronting him. "I think he needs a couple more across the legs, judge."

The sheriff smiled as Skinner gritted his teeth. "You heard the sheriff, Assistant Director. Two more across the top of the thighs, right where he'll feel them if he should be so foolish as to try to sit down anytime soon."

Skinner placed a large restraining hand in the small of Mulder's back, pinning him to the table. He then lifted the deadly switch. It was no more than a blur as it flashed down to sink into the tender skin on Mulder's upper thighs. The agent screamed again, fighting Skinner's hand to rise from the rack of torture he had been caught on. Another whistle as the switch cut through the air and yet another lightening strike of agony across the agent's naked thighs.

Mulder didn't scream this time, he just babbled incoherently as his bottom continued its grievous dance on the table.

Skinner left Mulder to walk over to the clerk, handing the man five one hundred dollar bills. He then gently wrapped the orange jump suit around his agent's hips, pulled him up and over his shoulder, and stalked out of the courtroom.

He had to drive about five miles to find a motel room, cursing the judge, the town and Mulder in a continuous and very creative stream of profanity.

He picked up his shaking agent off the back seat, kicking the door to open it. He laid the younger man on the bed, scowling down at him as he curled into a fetal ball in the center of the faded coverlet.

"Mulder, I'm going back to that grocery store we passed and see what they have in the way of first aid supplies. So help me if you move from that bed, I'm going to . . .hell, I have no idea what I'll do, but I'll think of something. And trust me, you won't like it."

When he returned the agent hadn't moved an inch and was even dozing restlessly, his face hot and perspiring.

Skinner filled the tub with cool weather and added the aloe body wash that the store clerk had recommended for severe burns. He gently shook the man awake and before he became completely alert, scooped him up and deposited him in the cool water. Mulder hissed in pain as his sore butt met with the hard porcelain tub. He tried to arch his back up but Skinner held him down, turning him on his side in the water. The big AD picked up a wash cloth and gently running it over the younger man's face and body. When he was satisfied that Mulder had cooled down somewhat he lifted him out of the tub, applying vitamin E and aloe lotion to his red, blistered bottom before tucking him back in bed.

"I swear, Mulder, if you ever get me in a mess like that again, I'll . . . I'll . . ."

"Beat . . .me, sir?" Mulder choked out around the pillow he was hugging to his chest.

"Yeah, maybe." He smiled as his agent's horrified eyes snapped open. "Don't look so surprised, Mulder. That part with you over my knees. I've wanted to do that for years."

Mulder eyed him for a couple of minutes before deciding the man couldn't be serious before allowing himself to drift off to sleep.

Skinner sat quietly in a chair watching his troublesome agent sleep. "Yeah Mulder, I liked giving you that spanking. I liked it a lot."

The End