The Danville Series by Cadillac Red Disclaimer: The characters of Fox Mulder, Dana Scully and Walter Skinner do not belong to me; they belong to Chris Carter and Fox. No money will be made from their use. Spoilers: SR 819, Tithonus Setting: Sixth Season. Immediately follows prior stories "The Gift" and "Hold Back the Dark" and references several other previous stories in this series. Rating: PG. Some language. Title: Testing the Limits Author: Cadillac Red Summary: Following several professional and personal crises, Mulder & Skinner try to reestablish their former relationship but not without some pain and suffering. Testing the Limits Crystal City, Virginia Saturday, February 6, 1999 5:30 a.m. Honk! Honk! "Come on, come on!" Fox Mulder said out loud, despite the fact he was alone at the wheel of Walter Skinner's jeep. He could see the Assistant Director in the lobby of his apartment building, talking to his doorman. Both men looked toward the sound and began to walk out to the car that Mulder had pulled up in front of the main door. The AD let Carlos take the suitcase but he carried his skis and boot bag. Mulder jumped out and opened the back of the jeep, pushing his own gear to the side to make room for Skinner's. "Sorry," he apologized before Skinner had a chance to speak. "I just don't want to miss the plane." The older man smiled, an amused glint in his eye. Mulder had stayed with him the night before and nearly driven the Assistant Director crazy with last minute thoughts about what to pack, how to pack, what the weather forecast for Colorado was, and about a thousand other questions and related comments. Until Skinner had finally given him all of his copies of Skiing magazine and sent him off to sleep in the spare bedroom, "before I have to hurt you, Mulder." "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were anxious," Skinner intoned dryly as he handed over his skis and let Mulder situate them so they could close the jeep's back door. "You're supposed to check in at least an hour before the plane takes off. It's a security thing," Mulder replied a little huffily, as though the AD knew nothing about airport security requirements. And as though Mulder himself ever showed up for a flight with an hour to spare! "And we'll be there in plenty of time. Calm down." He was not really annoyed. Despite Mulder's strange 'take charge' attitude, something that cropped up several times recently, it was a pleasure to see the younger agent eagerly anticipating this ski trip with Skinner's friends. He had not seen him this way in a long time now, with everything that had gone on over recent months. They finished packing the car and headed for Dulles International Airport, with time to spare. The weather was good and the Continental flight landed in Denver on time. Skinner's old friend, Chuck Talbot greeted them as they came off the plane; he'd waited for them to arrive since his own flight had landed only 30 minutes earlier. The three men exchanged hugs and handshakes and they headed off to Baggage Claim. "I called the house already," Chuck told them. "Jim and Will have been in since yesterday and they've got the place stocked and the hot tub's fired up. Dave and Danny got in a couple of hours ago and they're already on the road to Breckenridge. I'll go pick up the rental car while you get your bags." "Make sure it's a 4-wheel drive," Mulder reminded him. "I called and told them we needed a 4-wheel drive--" "I'll make sure, Mulder," Chuck laughed. "I've done this before, you know!" He exchanged an amused glance with Skinner before heading off to the Avis counter. "Take a deep breath," Skinner told him. "The air here's a little thinner -- and you're practically hyperventilating already!" "I'm just a little anxious, that's all," he replied a bit testily. "I haven't skied in so long. I didn't realize how excited I'd be to do it again. And besides. . . . we both really need a relaxing vacation . . . ." The buzzer sounded and the red light above the baggage carousel blinked as he spoke. The two men moved to stand near the now moving black belt. "When you're right, you're right, Mulder," Skinner said, though the comment left him a little concerned that Mulder was more stressed out than the AD had even thought. Trying to affect an air of normalcy he wasn't certain he felt, Skinner draped an arm around Mulder's shoulder. "We could both use a little R&R. So let's agree now that you're gonna do your part to make sure it's restful AND relaxing, okay?" The young man flashed him his best "who me?" look and Skinner gave him a playful thump on the back of the head before reaching to grab the first of their bags as it passed by. In a few minutes, they were on the road to the town of Breckenridge, in the Colorado Rockies. Skinner had purchased land there 20 years earlier and, with his Marine Corps friends, had personally built the house that now stood on the property. The tiny ski area had grown into one of the state's prime skiing destinations and the value of the house had skyrocketed. But it was not an investment to Skinner; it was a place where he went occasionally to escape the stresses of his life and job. And when he wasn't using it, which was most of the time, his large family and his extended family of friends and their kids, made good use of the place. He was immensely pleased that group now included one Special Agent Fox Mulder. The land on either side of the highway was brown and dry and there was no sign of snow until they passed through the Eisenhower tunnel. There the temperature immediately dropped a full 15 degrees and the ground was white with snow when they emerged out the other side of the mountain pass. Talbot and Skinner had seen it all before, but Mulder grew excited just at the sight of the white stuff. He looked at Skinner who had taken the driver's seat for the trip. "Wow." "Yeah," Skinner replied with a knowing smile. "I always get a little revved up when I get to this point, too." "You ski, don't you, Mulder?" Chuck asked, leaning up from the back seat. "Yeah, of course. I grew up in Massachusetts, you know! But I haven't skied in a long time, 20 years at least. And I've only skied in the East--" "Which is really like ice-skating," Chuck laughed. "I gave it up years ago. And I guarantee, you'll never want to ski the East again, once you've experienced real powder." "Did you ski a lot, Mulder?" Skinner asked. "Yeah, when I was a teenager. My family took a few skiing vacations when I was a kid before . . . until I was about 12," he corrected himself. "Then I didn't go for a couple of years until I was old enough to go with friends. Our next door neighbors had a house in Vermont and they went there just about every weekend. From the time my parents split, when I was 15, I used to go with them all the time in the winter. I got to be pretty good . . . ." His voice fell off and he stared out the side window. Skinner knew memories of his childhood often put Mulder in a melancholy mood and he wanted to correct that course heading immediately. "Well, you'll want to start off a little slowly then, Mulder," he said, recapturing the younger man's attention. "I don't want you getting hurt. I don't want to have to explain to AD Kersh why you need another leave. . . .!" Mulder laughed immediately. "Yeah, he'd be really be ticked if it was a PAID leave, wouldn't he?" They arrived in Breckenridge a couple of hours later. It was a quaint, old Western town that Mulder instantly knew appealed to Skinner's personality for its no-nonsense, down to earth, boots and flannel workshirts kind of ambiance. They turned onto a road that led up onto the mountain and pulled up outside a sprawling wood structure that looked like it had grown organically amid the towering pine trees. The air was fresh and cold as they unloaded their bags and headed up to the front door. It opened and 18-year-old Will Harley and 17-year-old Danny Pearsall rushed out to greet them. "What took you so long?" Danny asked. "We were hoping you'd get here early enough to ski half a day. What happened?" Will echoed as he grabbed Skinner's boot bag and skis. "My Dad and I got here hours ago," Danny added. "Did you hit traffic or something--" "Hold on, fellas," Talbot stopped them. "Give us a minute to get in the house before you start the interrogation!" "Besides, we've got a whole week, guys," Skinner laughed as he and Mulder exchanged hugs with the boys, then headed for front door. Two more former Marine friends of Skinner's, Jim Harley and Dave Pearsall, were sitting at the breakfast bar in the large, open kitchen just ahead of them, chilled beer glasses at the ready. Mulder was momentarily awed by the house. The first floor was a cathedral-ceilinged great room that ran from a large, modern kitchen and eating area on one end to a huge conversation pit and fieldstone fireplace on the other. Wall-to-wall windows framed a magnificent view of the mountain. Skinner directed Mulder to a room on the lowest floor of the three-level house. There were two bedrooms just off the rec room. "Will and Danny always take the room next to this one, the one with the bunk beds," he told Mulder smiling. "I assigned you the one with twin beds. It's all yours till Andy gets here on Wednesday." The other men had the four other bedrooms on the second floor, he informed Mulder. "But yours is closer to the wide-screen TV, the hot tub and the pool table! The only downside is Will and Danny talk to each other half the night." They all got settled, then Skinner and the boys took Mulder out for a quick tour of the ski area and the town of Breckenridge before they met up with the other men for dinner at a local pizza place. After they polished off four large pizzas of assorted variety, the boys headed next door to a video arcade. The restaurant had a live band so the five men nursed a couple of rounds of beer before prying the boys away from the game room and heading home to turn in early after their hectic travel day. By 11 p.m., the house was quiet and Mulder found himself smiling through a giant yawn. He'd only had to bang on the wall once to get the boys to quiet down and there was a light snow falling outside. He fell asleep and didn't wake until Will and Danny knocked just before 8 o'clock the next morning. "Wake up, Mulder," Danny called through the door. "The lifts open at 8:30!" He headed into the downstairs bathroom he shared with the boys, telling them he'd be ready in time. When he made it to the kitchen a short while later, Chuck Talbot and Skinner had pancakes and sausages ready, as well as a giant pot of coffee. Everyone was dressed for a day of skiing and the boys were only slightly more excited than the adults at the four inches of fresh snow that had fallen through the night. They headed out the back of the house, skiing down to the base to buy their lift tickets. "Mulder, you haven't skied in a long time," Skinner told him quietly as they waited in line to buy the lift tickets. "Start off easy, okay? I'll take you over to the intermediate trails for the morning, till you get your 'ski legs' back." "I'll be fine," the younger man protested, handing over his charge card for a one week ski pass. "I used to ski expert trails--" "Humor me," Skinner said firmly. "It won't do to have you get injured the first day and not be able to ski the rest of the week." And Skinner was far too familiar with Mulder's penchant for getting injured. "I can--" Mulder began before getting a good look at the glare the AD fixed on him. He sighed exaggeratedly. "Okay. Fine Whatever you say." He tried to hold his peeve but the fresh, mountain air and the smell of pine in the morning made it impossible. The others headed up the lift that ran to the summit while Skinner and Mulder took a different chairlift to an area that was all wide, intermediate trails, packed down and well-groomed after the previous night's snowfall. The sun was shining but the air was cold and Mulder felt his anticipation growing as the lift spirited them further up over the tree tops and the few early-morning skiers below them. "This is really beautiful, sir," he said quietly. "Yeah. I always get a chill the first time I see it again," Skinner agreed. "Well, now that you mention it, it is kinda cold," the younger agent said, deadpan. The Assistant Director rolled his eyes as he lifted the bar to get ready to get off. "Be careful, Mulder," he cautioned the other man. "Just keep your weight centered on your skis as we get off." They unloaded and the younger man managed to stay upright, but just barely. In a minute they were heading down a trail that Skinner knew was wide and flat, with only a couple of steep sections. One of which came up almost immediately. After tumbling once, though, Mulder demonstrated once again that he was a naturally gifted athlete. Before they finished the first run, he was skiing easily and gracefully and Skinner relented when Mulder insisted on going to the summit immediately after they reached the base after their first run. It was against his better judgment but . . . . Mulder was a big boy. He knew his own capabilities best, the AD decided. They'd planned to meet up with the others at lunch but managed to locate them within the hour. The seven of them skied together through the rest of the day before finally heading over to the trail that led to the back door of Skinner's house. They arrived back just before 5 o'clock and all five of the men hit the hot tub while the boys scanned the video collection and decided to watch "Armageddon." One by one, the older guys headed back into the house and soon everyone was napping on a couch or in a comfortable armchair somewhere. Skinner woke from his slumber in the conversation area to see Jim and Mulder at work in the kitchen. "We're eating here?" he asked warily, knowing the young FBI agent's cooking skills were minimal at best. They consisted of using a can opener and heating things on the stove or in the microwave. Period. "Don't worry," Mulder answered immediately. "I'm just the clean-up man! You're not gonna have to eat my cooking. . . !" Jim smiled. "So far, he's been a great help, too. He's keeping me plied with beer while I fix my world-famous burgers. And I told him the secret ingredient for these burgers, Walt. Can this guy keep a secret?" Skinner nearly choked on his response. "Oh, yeah. You can trust him with a secret!" Mulder and Jim finished forming burger patties and put them aside to wait for the grill to heat up. Jim finished his beer and went to the rec room to wake up the rest of their entourage and Mulder sidled up next to Skinner and whispered. "Soy sauce, sir. That's the secret ingredient. Do you think we can make a break and head to town for something edible?" Skinner laughed. "Don't worry. I've had the burgers before. They're pretty good, actually. And I figured out the secret ingredient a long time ago." Mulder grinned at him. "Guess the FBI lab comes in real handy sometimes, right, Walt?" Skinner stared at the younger man, his face expressionless. He didn't speak; he just waited. Mulder grew uncomfortable with the silence, and the unwavering eye contact but he thought he'd brazen it out. He cleared his throat and spoke, annoyed to hear it come out in a stammer, "Well. . . I-- I thought with everything that's happened, and all. . . . I just thought it would be okay if I called you Walt, . . . . Walter-- . . . uh, Sir." A smile returned to the ad’s face and he handed Mulder his empty beer bottle. "Here, I could use another beer. And get one for yourself, Mulder," he said breezily. Mulder sighed and headed over to the refrigerator, not catching the broad grin and shaking head behind him because he wasn't meant to see them. Skinner was struck by the niggling thought that, in Mulder's mind, their relationship had shifted somehow. And he wasn't quite sure the shift felt right to him. Or was the best thing for this young man. But he also wasn't sure it wasn't an inevitable change. As he watched Mulder open the two beers, the AD decided to just wait and see what would happen next. The next morning, everyone but the two boys was feeling the effects of their first day skiing. They headed out to the mountain first thing and skied hard until noon. Stopping for lunch at the summit lodge, the four older men decided to extend their lunch break at the bar, where the television was tuned to some Bowl game or another. Mulder and the boys thought they were all wimps, but they were also happy for the chance to head off on their own. Which they did. This was a chance to find every hill and mogul on the mountain, and 'take some air,' as the boys put it. Mulder was amused but also willing to go along. He was ten years younger than the other men and not about to admit he couldn't keep up with these two teenagers. They had all viewed a tape of 'extreme skiing' the day they arrived, and Will and Danny were anxious to try some aerials, like the skiers in the video. They found a tool shed on the side of one trail and Will suggested they try to ski off its roof. Mulder was a little concerned it might be dangerous, so he insisted he be the first to go. "If I live, we'll know if it's okay for you guys to try it," he told them grinning. The boys agreed to let him go first, standing at the top of a hill about 300 yards above the snow-covered shed. Mulder skied off down the hill, building up some speed and veering to the side of the trail, where one side of the shed's roof was flush with the trail. The rest of the structure ran down hill, creating a make-shift ramp that could be skied off of -- at least they thought it probably could. Mulder would be the test of that theory himself. He skied quickly onto the roof and off the other side, flying up and away from the structure in a perfect arc, trying to stay on top of his skis for the landing. His strong legs muscled the skis under his body as he landed. His left hand brushed the snow for a moment but he righted himself back onto his skis before coming to a hard stop. He could hear the boys cheering at the top of the hill and he took an elaborate bow before waving for one of them to go next. "It was easy," he called back. "Just stay centered on top of your skis!" Will went next and he managed to stay upright, although he caught an edge on landing and nearly tumbled right into the waiting FBI agent. Then Danny went. He lost his balance in mid-air and skidded out on landing. But the snow was soft and he was well-protected by his ski gear. "Wow!" he said even before getting up. "Let's do it again!" They headed down to the ski lift and took the chair back up again and again. As they got more confident, they added impromptu aerial moves, splits and helicopter turns. And little by little, other skiers, mostly adolescents and young men, saw their discovery and decided to follow suit. When Skinner, Talbot, Harley and Pearsall had seen enough of a very unexciting football game, they decided to head back out to the slopes. They skied down the trail from the summit lodge and took another long chairlift back to another peak, one where Mulder and the boys had said they were going to ski. As the lift passed over one trail, they saw a dozen or so people on the trail ahead, taking turns skiing off a tool shed on the side of a trail. "Jeez," Talbot said first. "Some people just have no common sense at all." "Yeah, don't you just know one of those idiot's is gonna get hurt. Or hurt someone else trying to cross that trail below--" Skinner agreed before he noticed that the jacket on the next idiot to ski off the shed looked suspiciously familiar. He watched Mulder do a perfect mid-air, 360 degree turn before landing gracefully and coming to a perfect stop. "Hey, I think that's Danny," Dave Pearsall said as the next skier started toward the shed. "And Mulder and Will are down the hill, they must have already done it." As they watched, two members of the Ski Patrol appeared, one stopping at the crowd gathered at the top of the hill and the other going down to talk to the people gathered at the bottom. Even from the distance of the moving chair lift, their body language made it obvious the Ski Patrol was not amused. "Well, that'll put an end to that nonsense," Jim Harley said aloud. As the lift continued on up the mountain, they could see the crowd of skiers disperse, reluctantly, but they all left nonetheless. From what Skinner could see, one skier had argued his point with the Ski Patrol, to no avail. Of course, it was Mulder. Talbot and Skinner exchanged a glance. They'd both reached the same conclusion about what might happen next. "Let's ski down that trail," Skinner said. "Just in case they decide to come back after the Ski Patrol is gone." The four men took their time skiing down, knowing that Mulder and the boys would have to ski down and ride the chair lift back up to the top to catch up with them. They reached the section above the shed and skied to the other side of the trail, to wait a little while. Sure enough, in less than 10 minutes, their quarry showed up. Mulder, Will and Danny came over the crest of the hill above the shed, scanning the area around it for the Ski Patrol, it appeared. Not seeing the easily-spotted red jackets, Mulder took the lead and headed toward the shed. "Mulder!" Skinner shouted from the left side of the trail. The young man didn't hear him apparently, but both Will and Danny did. They came to an immediate stop halfway down the hill toward the shed. "Mulder!" Skinner bellowed once again. This time the younger man heard him and was so startled, he nearly lost control and headed toward the trees before managing to throw himself to the ground and skidding to a stop. "You nearly got me killed," Mulder yelled back from his prone position. Skinner skied over to him and simply glared at him. Behind them, they could hear Jim and Dave giving their sons a good talking-to that ended with a threat to take away their lift tickets, if they ever tried anything that stupid again. Mulder laid back on the ground and closed his eyes, waiting for the Wrath of Walter Skinner to descend upon him. "Mulder," he heard Skinner say quietly. The young man opened his eyes and saw Skinner's large hand extended toward him. It crossed his mind that the AD might be planning to help him up just so he could deck him from a standing position. But he realized immediately that was not likely Still, his ego was too bruised to take the offered hand and he rolled to the side and got up without help. Skinner sighed at his action but decided not to pursue it. Mulder had been acting strangely all week, even before they headed out on this trip. Like he was a little off balance, Skinner thought. And the older man didn't have to think too long to figure out why. His own guilt about recent events, and how they may have shaken Mulder, was still too fresh to have formed a scab yet. He was reluctant to reopen his or Mulder's wounds. It seemed best to overlook Mulder's aberrant behavior, for the most part. "Mulder, you could have gotten hurt. One of the boys could have gotten hurt--" he said softly, only to be interrupted by the younger man. "I tried it first, and it was perfectly safe," he protested loudly. "I wouldn't put them in any danger--" Skinner kept his own voice low, noticing that the others' heads had all lifted at Mulder's tone and his raised voice. "I know you wouldn't knowingly endanger them. But you have to be more responsible than they are. They're kids. And someone could have gotten hurt. That's why the Ski Patrol told you to stop--" "What, those two mountain goons? What do they know? Together they can't come up with a three-digit IQ!" His voice rose another notch and had a decidedly caustic edge. Skinner was about to try to reason with him again, when Jim Harley skied down and caught his attention. "I think Will and Danny have had enough for today. We're gonna head back to the house," he said, giving Mulder a quick glance before focusing his attention on Skinner. "I think that's a good idea," Skinner replied calmly. "It's almost 3:30 anyway and the lifts are gonna close at 4. We need to ski to the base here, then catch a lift back up to the Sunrise Peak to be able to ski back to the house." He watched Jim motion for the others to follow him and they all headed down the hill, waving and calling to the two FBI agents to follow. "Let's go, Mulder," Skinner said easily, deciding to continue to ignore his earlier behavior. "No. I'm not ready to go back yet," Mulder replied evenly, but his words clearly masked something else. "I'll get back on my own." Skinner's eyes flickered at the response. It seemed out of proportion, under the circumstances. He hadn't even reprimanded Mulder, despite the extremely foolish and irresponsible behavior he'd displayed. Not to mention that attitude. But the Assistant Director decided to let Mulder have his way, unsure whether this was still more fallout from the past few weeks of chaos. Skinner poisoned. Scully shot. Mulder riding to the rescue when Skinner had all but . . . . He shook his head imperceptibly, shaking off any further thoughts about any of it. "All right, Mulder," was all he said. "I'll see you later." Mulder nodded. Skinner hesitated another moment, then headed off to follow the trail the others had taken only moments before. Mulder skied directly down to the base lodge and headed to the bar. He sat by himself and downed a couple of beers, chased with a couple of whiskeys. He was feeling peevish and he knew it was unjustified. But he felt it all the same. After a couple of hours, the crowd at the base lodge had thinned out considerably and he was suddenly struck by the fact that he had no way to get back to Skinner's house. The lifts were closed, he couldn't ski uphill and he couldn't even walk, in his ski boots. Well, he could but it would be a major undertaking to walk up the mountain road in his ski boots. He realized his only recourse was to try to hitch a ride, or call the house and get someone to drive down to get him. Not wanting to admit to Skinner that he hadn't thought this solo outing through carefully enough, he decided on the former. It took him a few minutes in the parking lot to find someone heading up the West Mountain Road and he finally arrived back at the house just after 6:30. "Glad you made it back, Mulder," Chuck Talbot greeted him. "We were just about to send out the St. Bernard's!" "As long as they come with a flask of whiskey, you can send them for me anytime," he replied in kind. He looked around to see where the AD was, and what kind of humor he was in. Not finding him, Mulder proceeded to remove his ski boots. As he was doing that, Skinner appeared at the top of the stairs. "We're going out for ribs tonight, Mulder," he said as though nothing had happened earlier. "Hop in the shower. We'll wait for you." Mulder nodded and flew down the stairs, relieved that Skinner was obviously overlooking his little snit this afternoon. Just thinking about it gave Mulder a paralyzing bout of anxiety and he hastily pushed the thought aside and stepped under a scalding shower., one he hoped would wipe away his lousy mood, as much as the dirt and grime of the day. They had a greasy dinner at Scotty's Rib Joint, then strolled around town for a little while with the boys, an attempt to walk off some of the calories from dinner. It also served to relax everyone from the tension that had built up over the course of the afternoon and they stopped for ice cream and cappuccinos before returning to the cars and heading home for the night. As he locked the house up at a few minutes before midnight, Skinner found himself hoping the Mulder he'd seen this evening was the one who'd wake up tomorrow morning. He was still uncertain how to deal with the mood swings the younger man had displayed recently, or even sure he should try to deal with them at all. He shook his head silently and climbed the stairs to the master bedroom, hoping tomorrow and the rest of the week would see the both of them getting back to some semblance of normality. Monday passed in a pleasant fashion, with snow falling throughout the day. By mid-afternoon, everyone in their party had returned to the house. Dave Pearsall had a large pot of hot chocolate going on the stove, made with fresh milk. He floated marshmallows in it for the boys and spiked the adults' with creme de menthe, turning it into something called a "Peppermint Patty," he said. "Whatever," Mulder told him, holding out his mug for another. The weather report was saying it would snow throughout the night and they'd decided to go out for an early dinner since they'd quit skiing early. Skinner, and Talbot were watching the Weather Channel when Mulder shuffled down the stairs from the kitchen with his mug and a bag of pretzels. "Is Andy gonna be able to make it here tomorrow night?" he asked the group. "They're saying the snow's gonna end sometime tomorrow morning. After about a foot of new snow," Talbot told him. "In Washington, that'd have us tied up for a week," Skinner laughed. "Here, they'll have the roads cleared by noon!" "Andy's plane is arriving in the evening, right?" Mulder asked, a little more anxiously than he intended. "So, this shouldn't affect him getting here." Skinner was pleased to see how eagerly Mulder was anticipating the arrival of the A.D.'s youngest brother. He hoped Mulder's attachment to Andy, and his other brother, Joe, would be a leveling influence on the younger agent, especially now. "Don't worry, Mulder," he said with a smile. "Andy doesn't get as much time to ski as he used to, with Eileen and the kids. As it is, he'll only be here for three days. He'll get here, if he has to charter a plane and parachute in!" They left for dinner in town a little while later. The town took on a festive air when it snowed and people everywhere were in jolly moods. They ate at a small, Italian place then wandered over to the bar they'd spent time in the first night. The bartender was a former ski instructor with a decided limp. "Call me Gimpy," he told them the first night. "Everyone does!" The bar was a hangout for the locals and especially the ones who worked at the mountain. The boys had gone to the video arcade once again and the five men settled in at the bar. A television on either end was tuned to an NBA game. "Hi, there," a tall, blonde, rather young woman breathed in their direction. Her long hair was pulled into a pony tail and she was wearing the purple skisuit and matching headband worn by all the ski school instructors. She was looking in the general direction of the five men, but her eyes were glued to Mulder. "I saw you here the other night. And I saw you on the mountain yesterday." Mulder looked a little startled for a moment, but he got his bearings back quickly. "I don't know why I didn't see you then. You're a lot more . . . noticeable than me!" She gave him a dazzling, toothy smile, clearly taking his somewhat ambivalent remark as a compliment. Skinner and the other men exchanged a round of knowing looks, then turned to continue their own conversation, giving Mulder some breathing room. "My name's Tawny," she said with a giggle. "Tawny Sinclair." "And I thought my parents were insensitive," he replied with a smile that could only be described as cloying. She giggled. Skinner overheard him and shot him a look that signaled his displeasure at Mulder's behavior. He noticed, with a little relief though, that the younger man's remark had safely flown right over her honey blonde head. "What's your name?" she pressed him. "I told you mine." "My name's Fox," he replied in a near perfect imitation of her cadence. "Fox Mulder. Pleased to meet you, Tawny." He held out his hand, purposely turning his back on Skinner so he wouldn't have to catch any more scowling looks from the other man. "Let me guess. You're a ski instructor, right?" "Yeah! Wow!" she exclaimed. "Are you psychic, or something?" Skinner groaned inwardly and signaled the bartender for another round for them all, including Mulder and Tawny. But Mulder managed to keep a lid on his sarcasm, at least enough so that Tawny didn't notice. The fact she was oblivious to just about everything helped, the AD thought. At 10 p.m., the four other men decided to call it a night. Talbot, Harley and Pearsall went to round up the boys and Skinner settled up their bill. "Coming, Mulder?" he asked the young man who was sitting on a barstool facing Tawny and deep in conversation about. . . . "I think I'll stay a little longer, with Tawny," he told the AD laconically. "I'm telling her all about my exciting career with the FBI. She think it's . . . 'awesome.'" "Do you catch bad guys, too?" she asked him, wide-eyed. "I mean, that must be totally scary!" Skinner opened his mouth to reply but before he got a chance, Mulder had scooted into the pause and answered for the both of them. "Totally," he said, nodding his head with authority. Skinner swallowed hard and peeled off a $10 bill to leave for the bartender. He leaned over and spoke quietly into Mulder's ear. "Call if you're going to be . . . very late," he told him. "And, Mulder. Behave yourself." The younger agent bristled a little at the suggestion, but he didn't reply, instead picking up his beer glass and clinking it with Tawny's. He gave her a big smile and asked her to tell him all about her career, "as a ski instructor. That must be really awesome!" Skinner fought down a desire to just smack him as he walked out to find the others. Hours later, the Assistant Director was asleep on the sofa in the living room area, his legs stretched out and propped up on the coffee table. He'd first left the front door unlocked for Mulder but his overactive drive for security made it impossible for him to go to bed with the door unlocked so he'd settled in to read for a while. He was certain the younger man would be in soon, or call as he'd asked. But no call came and by 1 a.m., Skinner had drifted off. He woke with a start at 4:15, when a car pulling up in the driveway shone its headlights in the window. Voices could be heard, not trying especially hard not to disturb anyone, despite the hour. Skinner glanced at his watch with irritation. He could hear Mulder saying good-bye to someone; the other voice belonged to Tawny, he was certain. "See you on the mountain, Fox!" she called to him as the car was backing out of the driveway. Outside, Mulder smiled and waved. He shook his head as he slowly trudged up the driveway and onto the front porch. He'd lost count of the number of times she'd used the word 'awesome' somewhere on the high side of 200. She'd used it to describe everything from the view they had of the mountain from Skinner's place ("must be awesome!") to the cheese covered French fries at the base lodge ("Totally awesome!") He'd had too much to drink, went to listen to some strange dance music at an after hours place with Tawny and 'her buds' and now his head was pounding to the beat of music he never wanted to hear in the first place. As he approached the door, it opened on its own. A fully dressed Assistant Director stood glaring at him. "Mulder, I thought I told you to call if you were going to be late," he whispered angrily. Mulder made an elaborate show of looking at his watch, then whispered back. "Actually, according to my watch, it's early . . . very early." Skinner closed the door behind him and stood there, his arms automatically crossing over his chest as he waited for a decent explanation. But Mulder was not in a very obliging mood. "If you don't mind, I'm really tired," he whispered again. "Thanks for waiting up . . ," his voice dropped even lower as he headed for the stairs to the lower level, "Dad." Skinner felt the tension in his neck and jaw ratchet up another couple of notches but he decided to ignore Mulder's little act. It was clearly designed to rile him up, and he decided it would be best not to play into the game. Whatever game Mulder was playing. Sighing in frustration, he locked the door and turned out the lights, determined to get at least a couple of hours of sleep in a real bed. The next morning came too soon for both men. Danny banged on Mulder's door at 8 o'clock and was greeted by a stream of consciousness response that could best be described as 'blue.' Danny's mouth hung open and Will gave him an amused look. "Sound's like a helluva hangover," he told the other young man. "Maybe we better not knock again." They headed up to the kitchen, where they found Skinner looking a little under-rested as well, but his humor was not affected. "'Morning, guys," he told them as he poured orange juice for them all. "Have you seen Mulder?" The boys exchanged wary glances that got the A.D.'s antenna up immediately. "No," Will said truthfully. "But we heard him. And he didn't sound happy that we knocked on his door." "Yeah, I haven't heard language like that since the last R-rated movie I saw," Danny laughed. "What R-rated movie did you see?" his father asked from the staircase behind him. Danny nearly fell off the stool on which he was perched, but his Dad continued down the stairs and came up behind him, cuffing him lightly on the head. "Just don't go emulating whatever you see in those R-rated movies, okay?" They were just finishing breakfast when Mulder stumbled up the stairs, dressed to ski but looking like he might fall right out of the chairlift, if he even made it that far. Skinner watched him closely but the young FBI agent saw he was being observed and straightened up immediately. "'Good morning," he mumbled to everyone, heading right for the coffee pot and pouring himself a large mug. Skinner reached for something in a cabinet behind him and surreptitiously slipped a plastic container onto the counter next to Mulder. "Extra Strength Excedrin" the bottle read and Mulder at first thought he would purposely ignore it, not wanting to give the other man the satisfaction of knowing he was right. Especially not when he was relatively certain he had a good lecture coming, at the least. But the incessant pounding in his head wore down his resolve almost immediately and he grabbed the bottle and uncapped it, pouring four tablet out into his hand and throwing them in his mouth. He was about to down them with the coffee, when a glass of ice water appeared from the general direction of the Assistant Director. Without a sign that he recognized where it came from, he took the glass and swallowed the aspirin, then downed the rest of the water. "Are you feeling any better, Mulder?" Danny asked him directly. He had the grace to appear a little sheepish and nodded in response. Leaning against the other side of the island breakfast bar, he lowered his voice and said, "Sorry, guys. Had a few too many shots of something called 'Jaegermeister,' I think. If anybody ever offers you any, run like hell in the other direction!" They laughed at his comment, but it was clear to Skinner it wasn't meant to be funny. He thought about having Mulder stay behind when the others left for the slopes, to read him the riot act, and then force him to get some more sleep. But he thought better of it, concluding that Mulder was an adult, after all. What he'd done last night, and with whom, was his business. And besides, skiing with a hangover was its own kind of punishment, something Skinner knew from personal experience. The boys got out a ski trail map and plotted out their route for the day. Mulder didn't bother to join in with their planning since he was relatively certain the AD was not going to let him off the hook for last night. So he was stunned when Skinner told everyone to be "ready to go in 15 minutes. Daylight's burning, people!" They decided to ski the summit and the North Face first thing. It was cold and slick there, and it took all of Mulder's concentration, what little he could muster, to stay on top of his skis. Suffering the effects of the previous night, he found himself shivering from the cold but he was not willing to let his discomfort show to the others, particularly the Assistant Director. But his stomach churned, not helped by four aspirin on an empty stomach. He'd turned down Skinner's offer to fix him some toast and eggs, a move he'd come to regret badly. It was out of character for the other man to let him get away with not eating and he hadn't actually expected his show of defiance to stand. They finally stopped for something hot to drink mid-morning and Mulder bought himself a dry roll and a hot chocolate. After downing them, he finally began to feel human again. But unfortunately, the rest of the group were ready to go again after a short break. By late afternoon, though, his hangover had worn off and he and Will and Danny had taken off on their own after lunch. The day had warmed up considerably, a golden sun warming the air and creating an almost blinding glare on the snow. Mulder was glad for the shades he'd remembered to bring and even gladder at the thought that Skinner's brother Andy would be arriving tonight. He was aware of the tension between him and Skinner, but felt powerless to stop himself from doing all the wrong things. He hoped Andy would provide a distraction for his older brother, giving Mulder a chance to regroup. He was lost in this train of thought as the three of them were riding a chairlift at just past 3:30 in the afternoon. "Oh, shit!" Danny exclaimed as his ski poles tumbled off the seat next to him. They fell to the snow below as the chair whisked the three of them further up the mountain. "I mean, oops!" Mulder had been tracking the poles as they fell and, after watching them for a few more seconds, he turned to the obviously upset 17-year-old beside him. "No, you were right the first time. Oh shit!" He looked at his watch and came to an instant decision. He'd quickly calculated the time left until the ski lifts closed and the time it would probably take them to criss-cross the mountain and get to the trail that led to Skinner's back door. Not enough time to go back and pick up the poles, catch another lift and then start the trek back. At least, not enough time for the three of them to do it. Mulder was relatively certain he could move fast enough to do it himself. "Here, take my poles -- and hang on to them, okay?" he told Danny with a grin. "You guys head back toward the house when we get off. The lifts are gonna close in about 20 minutes. I'll go pick up the poles and meet you. If I miss the last lift, I'll ski down to the base and thumb a ride back to the house. It'll be easier for one person to hitch than three." The boys protested, wanting to 'race the clock' along with him but he pulled his best imitation of the Assistant Director and insisted they follow his orders. The two boys split off and headed to the right when they unloaded from the chair lift. Mulder took the trail to the left and stayed right below the lift as he raced down the slope. Finding Danny's poles, he picked them up and headed quickly down the rest of the trail. Which just happened to lead him past the shed they'd been using as a make-shift ski jump the other day. The trail was completely deserted in the late afternoon and Mulder had not seen anyone from the Ski Patrol in hours, so he decided to chance one more jump off the roof. Picking up serious speed, he veered to the side of the trail and onto the roof, arcing beautifully into the air and -- nearly hitting two skiers who were crossing the trail just below! Mulder used every ounce of strength he had not to plow right into the two bodies in his path. Turning his own body in mid-air, he lost his balance and thudded heavily into the packed snow, whereupon he slid about halfway down the rest of the slope before coming to a painful stop. He'd lost a ski and banged his head and knee badly on landing. "Mulder?" he heard the A.D.'s voice coming from one of the two bodies he'd nearly hit. He closed his eyes against the grim reality and swallowed convulsively. "Mulder! Are you all right?" he heard Skinner and Talbot both asking as he lay there inertly. Skinner came to a skidding stop next to him and knelt down in the snow. "Mulder," he repeated, a little more worriedly than before. "Yeah." "Are you okay?" Skinner asked anxiously. "Are you mad?" the younger man replied matter-of-factly. "'Because that might relevant to my response." Skinner sighed audibly, shaking his head. "Do you think you can get up, Mulder?" Talbot and Skinner both offered him a hand and he started to get up, before realizing he'd done some damage to his right knee. "I think I may be hurt," he finally admitted. After trying to put some weight on it, he quickly determined he might not be able to ski back on his own. Talbot remembered that there was an emergency call box at the lift below and volunteered to go call the Ski Patrol for assistance. Skinner waited with Mulder, getting some snow and packing it around the younger man's knee to keep the swelling down. "What. . . what were you doing here anyway, sir?" Mulder asked him tentatively. "We saw the boys. They told us where you were and Chuck and I decided to try to find you. To keep you company." He didn't invest his explanation with any sign of rebuke or anger. "Oh. Well, thanks anyway," Mulder said, not sure what else to say. Or why Skinner wasn't furious at him for doing something he'd been explicitly told not to do. A member of the Ski Patrol showed up with a snowmobile and offered Mulder a ride back to the base lodge for some medical attention. In a twist of irony that wasn't lost on the young man, it was one of the two 'goons' from the day before and he spent the entire ride reminding him of the warning they'd been issued earlier in the week. Knowing he needed the ride, Mulder gritted his teeth and held his tongue. The doctor on duty in the clinic said he had sprained his knee but it didn't appear too bad and 'the snow pack was a great idea. It probably won't swell too much more." Chuck Talbot had called the house and gotten Jim Pearsall to drive down with one of the Jeeps so they loaded Mulder up and got him home as quickly as possible. Skinner and Talbot helped him to his room immediately and Skinner left to go get another ice pack for his knee. "What happened, Mulder?" Danny asked him excitedly. He plopped down on the foot of the bed. "Ow!" Mulder grimaced as the bed rocked beneath him. "Be careful, Danny," Will admonished him, before turning to Mulder and asking the question foremost on his mind "Did you really almost hit Chuck and Walter? That's what Chuck said." Mulder didn't really want to go into the ugly details so he pretended to be in more discomfort than he was. Hoping they'd take the hint and leave him to his brooding. Which they didn't. So he decided to ask them to help him prop up his knee, and get him some water. Anything to distract them from a subject he didn't want to discuss. In the kitchen upstairs, Skinner was filling an ice pack and talking with Chuck, Jim and Dave. "Why don't you guys go ahead into town for dinner? Mulder and I will fix something here." "Nah, we can all eat here," Jim countered. "We have enough food to feed an army--" "No, we planned to go to the Chinese place tonight. You guys should go anyway," Skinner replied insistently. "The boys are looking forward to it." "Really, we don't mind, Walt," Dave interrupted. "We can hit the Chinese place tomorrow, after Andy gets here--" "No, really," Skinner said firmly. "I . . . think Mulder and I need a little 'quiet time' anyway. . . ." Jim laughed, instantly recognizing the hidden truth behind that statement. He'd been watching Mulder act out all week and wondered how long his old friend would be patient with behavior Jim never would have tolerated from his son. "Oh. Well, in that case, how long do you want us to disappear for?" Chuck stayed behind for a few minutes, not certain that Skinner had actually meant what Jim and Dave thought he meant. And sufficiently curious to press his old friend about it. "What's up with you and Mulder anyway?" he asked quietly. Skinner gave him a surprised look. "What do you mean?" "Well, you have to admit, he's been up and down all week. First, he's on his best behavior, then he's acting like a spoiled brat. Half the time since we've been here it's been like he thinks you have nothing to say about anything he says or does. And the really weird thing is, you've been tolerating it. Truth is, we've all been wondering when the Walter Skinner we know and love's gonna show up." The Assistant Director was floored by his buddy's depiction of the situation. It was exactly right. But he hadn't really considered that his response to Mulder had been so completely out of character. He'd been intent on giving Mulder the benefit of the doubt, in light of recent events, and so he'd overridden all his basic instincts to get there. "Well . . . Mulder and I have been through a lot lately. . . ." he offered, trying to find an explanation that sounded reasonable but not wanting to share the whole story. "It's just that I haven't really been myself and I think he's just reacting to that. To the fact that my actions have been a little . . . unpredictable," he finished lamely. "That's why I've been so tolerant of his behavior. I feel responsible for it." Chuck listened raptly; he'd known Skinner for almost 30 years and had really never seen him act in a way that he considered out of character. He was as constant as the earth turning clockwise on its axis. But he did have an opinion on the situation and he was not about to walk away without offering it. "Well, okay, maybe what we're seeing is Mulder reacting to you not being yourself. So you better get back to the old you, fast, Walt. Or that kid's gonna go careening off a ledge!" he volunteered before leaving the kitchen to change for dinner. Skinner knocked on Mulder's door about a half hour later. He'd sent down an ice pack earlier and brought a fresh one with him now. Mulder was lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Now the young man looked at him with a mixture of curiosity and something else, Skinner wasn't sure what. "How's the knee?" "It's . . . okay. " Mulder shifted in the bed, wanting to sit up a little, so he could make better eye contact with the other man. So he could try to judge from his body language what was coming next. "What's going on with you, Mulder?" Skinner asked him directly. He was never one to beat around the bush and this was hardly the time he wanted to begin. "I don't know what you mean," the younger man answered, trying to deflect the question. He swallowed nervously. "Don't give me that," the AD cut him off immediately. "You know exactly what I mean. And I want an explanation." Anger and resentment flared in Mulder's eyes. "You want an explanation from me? How about an explanation from you? For . . . for-- you know!" He lowered his eyes, not able to look the other man in the face while he was reminding him that he'd nearly taken his own life a short while ago. It was something Mulder couldn't articulate anyway. "So this IS about me, Skinner said quietly. "That's . . . what I was afraid of." He sat down on the other bed and sighed, staring off into the air above Mulder's head. "Mulder . . . whatever you think was going through my head that night. . . I promise you, it would never have happened. I think I'm just too . . . obstinate to go down without a fight." He looked into his eyes and spoke again, with conviction. "And I'm not gonna let them get me, bet your next year's pay on that. But you were there for me when I was struggling. And I want you to know I know that. And . . . I'll always be there for you, too. When you need me--" Mulder was beginning to choke up as his words sunk in. He nodded his understanding as Skinner continued. ". . . whether you want me or not, Mulder. And right now, I think you need me to remind you where the boundaries are. And how many times you've stepped over them already this week--" Mulder's eyes widened with shock. He closed his mouth and began to stammer. "I don't-- I mean, you don't have to. . . I know what you mean and I promise I won't--" Skinner had risen and was unbuckling his belt. He listened to the younger man's protests but was unmoved by them. He knew with a greater certainty than he'd felt in weeks that Mulder needed him to be the backstop here, to get him back into familiar territory. And he'd failed this kid a lot recently. He wasn't about to fail him again. Pulling the leather belt out of the loops in his jeans, he doubled it over in his hand and moved toward the bed. Mulder pulled back unconsciously, his hands going to his knee. "I'm hurt. . . " he said, his voice edging toward a whine. "Yes, I know. Who's fault is that? But I can see the swelling's almost completely down, Mulder--" "I don't think I should be getting up--" he said more frantically than he intended. "Don't worry. You don't have to get up." With that the Assistant Director took him by the arm and helped him, or forced him, to turn over onto his stomach. The younger man had stripped off his ski pants when he came in and had been lying there in his boxers icing his knee so there wasn't much between Skinner's belt and his butt except a thin layer of cotton. Which Skinner made short work of pulling down below his cheeks. "Now, you've been acting up all week, Mulder," the AD said in his firmest tone. "What's this strapping for?" "Owwww!" One burning lick fell across his backside, followed immediately by two more. "For. . . for being a brat, sir!" he cried. "And for, um, for disobeying you! Ouuuccchhhhh! Owwww!" "Hold on, Mulder," the AD told him, delivering another lick right across the sit spot. "Let's take this one at a time. I'm not looking for categories, I'm looking for specific incidents," he said evenly. "That's what you're being punished for." "I don't know what you mean! Oucchhhh!" He received two additional hard licks in the same place, meant to alert him to the fact the other man was not about to accept his plea of ignorance. "Okay, let me help you then," Skinner said firmly, issuing another couple of stinging slaps with the leather belt. "Let's start with your attitude. What my Dad used to call 'getting a little too big for your britches,' Mulder. What specific behavior earned you this strapping, young man?" "Oh, for getting drunk the other night! And for not calling when I was gonna be late! Ouccchhh! And for mouthing off to you, sir, the other day on the mountain when you caught me jumping off the shed! Owwww! Unnhhhhh! And for, um, for being rude to Tawn-- Tawny!" he hiccuped, trying to hold back the sobs that were on the verge of coming. "Okay, let's close out that category now, Mulder. I think you've got that message. What else are you being punished for?" "I, um, for disobeying you and going back to ski off the shed! Ohhhhh! Unnnnhhhh! And coming in at 4 o'clock in the morning--" "It was 4:15, Mulder," the AD said, trying to hold back a smile. "Not that I was paying attention, or anything! And let's not forget that bratty display when you came in. . . " "No, I didn't think you'd forget that-- Ouccchhh! Owwww!" "What else, Mulder?" "For not acting like a responsible adult, with the boys," he sobbed fully now. The tears running down his cheeks were coming fast and furious and Skinner knew he'd gotten the most important part of the message. He brought the belt down across his butt one more time, then dropped the it on the other bed and pulled up Mulder's shorts, as gently as he could. The young man lay on the bed, his face buried in his arms and sobbed. Skinner let him have a minute to begin to calm himself. He sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed his back, until his sobs turned to tear-soaked breaths. "Are you okay, now, Mulder?' he asked finally. The younger man didn't answer, but he nodded his head. Skinner smiled to himself. "Look at me, Mulder," he requested. The young FBI agent took a deep breath and turned over to face him. "I want to make sure we're okay, now. Back to normal. At least as normal as it ever gets with you, Mulder!" Skinner said, searching his face to ascertain whether he was indeed okay. Mulder sniffed once before answering. "Yeah, I'm okay. Are you okay?" This time Skinner couldn't help it, he laughed out loud. "I'm fine. Thanks for asking! . . . . I'm glad you're all right, but there's one more thing. That little stunt with the shed today. You were lucky you didn't hurt yourself worse. Or hurt someone else, Mulder. That was inexcusable. Especially after you'd been warned by the Ski Patrol, and me. So here's the deal. Tomorrow, you're grounded. No skiing--" "What? Andy's gonna be here! You can't make me--" "Mulder! Did you learn nothing just now?" Skinner asked him impatiently. "But--" "No buts! You're in this house tomorrow. If you behave yourself, you can ski with Andy on Friday and Saturday--" "That's not fair--" "Or you can be grounded the rest of the week, your choice, Mulder," the AD finished, crossing his arms to indicate he'd negotiate no further. Mulder studied the non-verbal signals for a few seconds before recognizing he was in a no-win position. Which was a slightly better position than he'd been in a few minutes earlier, so he decided not to press his point. He remembered Skinner and his buddies were planning to spend tomorrow visiting their old Drill Instructor from when they enlisted in the Marines. A guy who lived about 100 miles away, so they'd be gone all day, leaving the boys and Andy and Mulder behind. His quick mind raced with the possibilities. "All right, sir," he said resignedly, in his best imitation of humility. "Good. I'll fix us some dinner, then. Andy should be here any time now." And Andy did arrive, only a few minutes later. Mulder was still in his room and didn't hear him, until he appeared at the bedroom door, carrying his bag and another ice pack the AD had sent down while he prepared dinner for the three of them. "Hey, Mulder," he said with a fond smile, dropping his bag on the other bed. "Walter sent this ice pack down for your knee," he said to the young man who was lying face down on the bed. "But from the looks of it, your knee's okay," he said, dropping the ice pack on Mulder's backside. "Very funny, Andy," Mulder said, turning over and pulling the ice pack out from under his butt. "I hear you're not skiing with us tomorrow," Andy continued. "Bummer. . . " Mulder gave him a wicked grin. "Yeah, well, we'll see about that. . . ." The four ex-Marines left the house at 9 o'clock, just after Andy and the boys had gone out the back door to the trail that passed behind the house. Skinner had visited Mulder in the rec room just before they left, making sure his knee was all right, and that he fully understood what the AD had told him about staying in. The others assumed it was because of his knee injury, and Skinner let them think that; no reason to bruise Mulder's pride as well as his butt. They weren't out of the driveway before he leapt off the couch and rushed to get dressed. Ski clothes, boots, jacket, all ready and waiting in his closet, behind the closed door. Picking up his skis from the rack at the back door, he stepped into them and headed down the same trail the others had taken 20 minutes before. He found Andy and the boys at the pre-set meeting place a few minutes later. "Hey, Mulder!" Will called, spotting him first. "What are you doing here?" Mulder and Andy exchanged a look that acknowledged their mutual victory in pulling this off, so far. "I decided my knee's okay enough to ski, after all," Mulder told the boys. "But this is gonna be our little secret, okay? The AD doesn't think I should be skiing on it," he crossed his fingers discreetly at this blatant lie, "and I don't want to have to hear him about it. This means you have to keep it to yourself, Danny!" he finished, looking directly at the 17-year-old. Danny was not known for his ability to keep a secret. The boy looked indignantly back at him. "I get it. I'm older now," he countered, as though that explained his previous inability to keep one of Mulder's secrets, a year or so earlier. Mulder cuffed him on the back of the head with a smile. "I know. And I'm placing myself in the hands of the new you, kiddo!" They headed off to the summit chairlift and spent the day skiing every area of the mountain. Andy was an expert skier, and Mulder was not far behind him, despite the fact he'd only been on skis again for the past week. The boys struggled to keep up, but their egos drove them to do it and the four of them barely stopped for lunch, choosing to grab something and sit in the warm sun for about 20 minutes instead of taking a real lunch break. "God, this is beautiful. It's like a Spring day," Mulder sighed as he sipped the hot chocolate he'd bought with lunch. "Yeah, this is the closest thing to heaven in the world," Andy agreed. "But I was thinking you oughta get some good sunscreen, Mulder. You don't want to have to explain a sunburn to Walter tonight!" Mulder smiled and pulled a number 15 sunscreen out of his pocket. "I'm way ahead of you, Andy," he laughed. Will was holding Andy's camera and he snapped a photo of the two of them. They'd spent the morning skiing the back trails and finding every little jump they could, letting Andy take photos of all of them doing aerial moves. Danny began filling Andy in on the shed incident, lamenting the fact that it was the best ski jump on the mountain. Mulder watched Andy's reaction with interest. The A.D.'s younger brother was a born dare-devil and he guessed this was not something he could pass up, despite the dire warnings from their fathers and the AD that Danny related next. And the fact that that's where Mulder had gotten hurt. "Let's ski that way," Andy said, grabbing his poles. Mulder grabbed his own ski gloves and poles and followed him. The boys looked at each other anxiously, but jumped to follow as well. Within a few minutes, they were standing at the crest of the slope above the shed. No red Ski Patrol jackets were in sight. "I gotta try this, just once," Andy said, positioning himself to do so. He took off without another word and skied onto and off the rooftop, his flight a perfect arc that came to a graceful landing about 30 feet downhill. "Whoa! That was great!" he called back to the others. They looked at each other for a brief second. Not a word was exchanged, but Mulder immediately got in position to go next. "Wait!" Andy called up next. "Let me get my camera ready. I'll get a shot of each of you in mid-air!" Mulder headed down toward the shed and flew off, performing a perfect helicopter turn before landing as gracefully as Andy had and skiing down to the other man. "Got it!" Andy told him happily. "Next!" Will, then Danny did the same thing and then the four of them skied to the bottom of the slope and took the lift back up, to do it again. They'd made three full circuits before Mulder spotted the first Ski Patrol jacket and they decided to ski another part of the mountain. By mid-afternoon, Andy found himself having to remind Mulder that the clock was ticking. "You're gonna turn into a pumpkin, soon, Cinderella," he whispered quietly as they sat on a four passenger lift with the boys. "You better not press your luck much further, Mulder." Mulder nodded and reminded the boys once more that he'd "never been there" before skiing off in the direction of Skinner's house when they unloaded from the ski lift. His took the quickest route back to the trail that came up behind the house but his heart nearly stopped when he had almost reached the back door. A black jeep was paralleling his path on the road on the other side of the house, a suspiciously familiar black jeep. It was the rental car they'd picked up at the airport, the one Skinner and Talbot and the others had taken! And it was pulling into their driveway! "Shit!" he muttered under his breath, hoping the trees and bushes blocked him from the view of anyone in that car. He flew up to the back door and slammed himself out of the skis, putting them quickly in the rack and opening the back door as fast as humanly possible. He was eternally grateful that Skinner had assigned him a room on the lower level as he heard the others entering on the floor above him just as he was sneaking in through the rec room. He tore off his ski clothes and tossed then in the closet in a heap, climbing into his bed in his long underwear and pulling the covers up to his chin just before Skinner knocked quietly on the door. Mulder pretended to be asleep and the door quietly opened and closed again. His act must have been halfway believable, he sighed with relief, giving his racing heart a chance to settle down. Then he changed into sweats and splashed some cold water on his face, and headed upstairs. "Oh, you guys are home already," he yawned as he came into the kitchen. "I was so bored, I decided to take a nap." Andy, Will and Danny arrived about an hour later and they all decided to go into town for dinner. Mulder, Andy and Will stayed close to Danny all night, trying to make certain he didn't 'slip' but the boy was as good as his word, this time. By the time he went to bed, Mulder was fairly certain he'd gotten away with it. He and Andy exchanged a high five as they got ready to turn in "It's not easy to put one over on Walter," Andy told him. "You should mark this day in red on your calendar, Mulder!" "Yeah. Although it's actually a little easier than you think," he laughed. "Really? Name one time you did it," Andy pressed him. He laughed when Mulder wrinkled his brow but was unable to come up with a single instance. "See, told you!" The rest of the week passed uneventfully. The weather continued to be excellent and they got two more perfect ski days before packing up and heading to the airport on Sunday. Mulder and Skinner were due back at work on Monday and, since they were forbidden from contact in the office, the AD used the driving time to talk Mulder, to make certain he'd go back to work with the proper attitude toward his present situation, and boss. Which was decidedly not to the younger agent's liking. Mulder listened with little response but when Skinner dropped the younger agent off at his apartment, the older man was surprised by the sudden, heartfelt bear hug the young man gave him. "Thanks, sir," he whispered. "For the trip. And for . . . everything!" "You're welcome, Mulder," he replied, finding himself choking up from the unexpected show of affection. "And one more thing. I . . . I don't know if I've ever told you this, but. . . . I'm really proud of you, kid. Of who you are. And how far you've come in recent years." He swallowed down a wave of emotion and started to look a little embarrassed by this admission, but he recovered immediately. "I know it hasn't been easy. Obeying me and staying in on Thursday had to be tough, but you did it. I just want you to know, I know that. And I'm proud of you. Good night." Mulder walked numbly into his building, overwhelmed by conflicting emotions. His elation at having put one over on the AD was rapidly being overtaken by a massive wave of guilt, and shame. He went to bed but found himself unable to sleep, his mind was so wired by the emotional cross-currents he'd suddenly found himself caught in. At 4 a.m., he fell into an exhausted sleep, only to be awakened by his alarm two hours later. He finally decided to put it out of his mind, taking the A.D.'s advice about waiting out an emotional storm. ********************************************************************** The Hoover Building Washington, D.C. Mulder tried all week to sell himself that rationalization but his heart warred with it and he found himself distracted and preoccupied at work. Which didn't matter much since he was assigned to the mindless task of background checking anyway. But Scully noticed and asked him about it several times. "It's nothing, Scully, really," he told her. "I just need a vacation from my vacation, that's all!" She bought that story, especially given the healthy glow he appeared to have. And he did light up when she asked for details about the trip. He'd obviously had fun and relaxed. She wrote the whole mood thing off as another aspect of his eccentricity. By week's end, he seemed to have come almost all the way out of his funk and she was sure whatever it was, had passed. On Friday, he brought photos Skinner's brother Andy had mailed him and they spent their lunch hour looking at them over sandwiches and cokes. Scully was immensely pleased to see the photographic evidence that he really did have a good time. Pictures of Mulder with the others, smiling, posing in the golden sunlight, skiing down beautiful, pristine white trails. These were joys to her heart; his life was so full of pain, and disappointment, and anger, generally. It made her happy to see him happy and so obviously a part of Skinner's large extended family. He needed that connection desperately, she knew. Mulder was called to Kersh's office at the end of the day and she was just packing up herself, when Skinner walked by the bullpen. Scully was the last one there, other than Mulder and she'd stopped before leaving for the day to take one more look at the photos. He'd left the envelope lying on his desk and she thought she'd slip out one of him that was especially nice, and take it home to show her mother over the weekend. Maggie Scully was as fond of him as her daughter and worried he was too serious and morose. It would do her good to see the photo of Mulder laughing in the sun, sitting on a picnic table and eating the biggest black & white cookie known to science! "Good evening, Agent Scully," Skinner said, as he quietly approached her. Though the area was deserted, he wasn't a man prone to taking chances, not unless they were necessary, at least. "Sir," she replied with a smile. "I was just looking at the photos from your trip." "Mulder shouldn't show those around here," he began, then thought better of it. Who other than Scully would he show anything to? He wasn't really close to anyone else here. Skinner laughed. "Forget I said that, Scully! Lost my head for a moment there!" She smiled and held out a picture of him and Mulder she thought was especially nice. He agreed, telling her his brother had sent him a set of photos as well. He was just about to leave when he noticed her shuffle past a photo that seemed unfamiliar to him. It was Mulder, performing an aerial turn off the roof of that shed. He continued to sift through the photos, and Scully didn't notice the smile on his face turn tight and artificial. She packed up the rest of her stuff just as Mulder appeared in the doorway. Wishing them both a good night, she told her partner she'd see him on Monday and left. "What brings you to FBI hell, sir?" he asked the AD, before noticing that the other man was holding a stack of photographs. The photographs Andy had sent. His mind raced through the evidence and came to the inevitable conclusion. "I'm heading home now, Mulder," he said quietly, keeping the photos as he headed back to the hallway. "I should be there by 7." Mulder's heart dropped and he nodded silently. He stood there another moment until the other man disappeared down the hallway before throwing his body into his desk chair and hanging his head in his hands. "Fuck," he said, realizing his weekend plans, minimal though they were, had just been blown to kingdom come. ********************************************************************** Walter Skinner's Apartment Crystal City, Virginia Mulder arrived at Skinner's place, dragging a weekend bag and himself through the lobby. He had a sneaking suspicion he'd be spending the night, at least. The doorman had been told to expect him, and greeted him like a long-lost relative. "Have a good night," he said as Mulder got on the elevator to go up to Skinner's apartment. He nodded his thanks without conviction. He used his own key to let himself into the A.D.'s apartment and was surprised to smell something cooking, something that smelled pretty good. "Drop your things in the bedroom and come into the kitchen," the AD called to him. "I had some of my mother's lasagna in the freezer since my last visit. I don't know about you, but I'm starving. I missed lunch today." Mulder followed his request silently. He was growing more worried as the time went on. He always hated waiting for punishment and he knew the AD knew it. Which was probably the reason he was delaying this now. He finally got himself into the kitchen, where the AD had laid two place settings on the table and was just pulling the lasagna out of his oven, along with a loaf of garlic bread. "Sit, Mulder," he told the young man as he put the food on the table. Then he seated himself and began to dish out the food. Skinner tucked into the meal quickly, obviously he hadn't been lying when he said he was starving. In a minute, though, he noticed the other man hadn't even begun and he stopped eating long enough to catch his eye. From long experience, they both understood the meaning of the look he gave Mulder and the younger agent sighed loudly but picked up his fork and began to eat. Skinner made small talk over the meal, touching on sports and Mulder's first week back at work, and what Scully had done while he was away. Nothing elicited more than a monosyllabic response but Skinner chose to ignore it. His anger at Mulder was banked at this point, but it was ready to flare back up at any moment. He exercised every ounce of self-discipline he could claim to keep his conversation civil and friendly. Finally, the tense meal was over and they'd cleaned up the kitchen sufficiently. Mulder took himself into the living room and Skinner followed a moment later. He'd changed into black sweats and a faded gray USMC tee-shirt when he got home and now he stood in the living room, his arms crossed over his massive chest, staring at Mulder. Waiting for an explanation. But the young man was not looking at him. His head hung and he was staring at his own feet, it appeared. Also waiting. The silence went on for what seemed like forever, until Skinner finally ended it. "Well?" he said shortly. "I'm sure you have an excuse, Mulder. Let's hear it." Mulder started slightly at his question. He didn't have an excuse. He'd lied. And disobeyed an explicit order. And brought Andy and the two boys into his plan. He bit his lip, and shook his head. "Did you say something, Mulder?" "No, sir. I didn't say anything. . . . And I have no excuse," he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. He had struggled with this all week, from the moment the AD had told him he was proud of him last Sunday, he'd recognized he was a fraud. That if Skinner knew the truth, he wouldn't be proud, he'd be ashamed of him. And now the AD knew and Mulder sensed it was even worse than he'd expected. He felt tears sting the back of his eyes and he blinked to stop them. Skinner watched him and knew he was suffering. But he knew this kind of behavior could not be overlooked or excused. His own father had one hard and fast rule. Dishonesty and disobedience earned you the worst punishment of all. Such things could not be allowed in a family, not if the family was going to be strong enough to survive in a tough, challenging world. And Mulder's world was tougher and more challenging than just about anyone else's Skinner had ever known. He knew the younger man needed him to be the solid, unwavering anchor in his life and he'd failed him badly in that regard recently. He was not going to fail him now, or ever again. "Okay, you know the penalty for lying, Mulder. And disobedience. Let's go." Mulder stood. He'd changed into jeans and a tee shirt and sweater when he'd gone home to pack his bag. Now he pulled the blue sweater over his head, then unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. He saw Skinner wasn't wearing a belt and panicked for a moment at the fact he hadn't worn one either. But Skinner also noticed this details and he walked into his bedroom, returning in a moment with his own leather belt. With a nod of his head, he signaled the young man to move to the leather armchair by the window. He did so, then pushed down his jeans and cotton boxers. Taking a deep, teary breath, he leaned over the back of the chair. "What's this punishment for, Mulder?" Skinner asked him as he laid the first lick across his buttocks. He didn't sound angry, but Mulder sensed from the strength of the lick that the AD was furious with him. He'd developed a keen sense for it, having been on the receiving end of so many punishments from the man. "For lying to you, sir!" he called out immediately, not wanting to do anything to fuel his anger. "And for disobeying you and going skiing!" He gasped as the other man kept up a steady rhythm of licks applied to his posterior, covering every inch of skin between his thighs and his lower back. "Oucccchhhh! Owwwww!" "What else, Mulder?" "Unnhhhh! For making Andy and Will and Danny a party to my lies!" he gasped out. Skinner was pleased with this one. He'd obviously been giving this some thought. "For setting a lousy example for Will and Danny!" "Anything else, Mulder?" the AD asked, as he continued the strapping, now concentrating on the sit spot, wanting to make certain that sitting down would be a painful reminder of this lesson for the next few days. And he also wanted to know if there was anything else. "Oh! Owwwww! For-- for m-making you . . . ashamed of me, sir!" he finally spat out, his voice trailing off into full, racking sobs. Skinner stopped in mid-swing. "Okay, that's enough," he said, more to himself than to Mulder. This was not a response he'd expected, or wanted. He dropped the belt on the table and reached up to tousle the back of the sobbing younger man's head, trying to get his attention. "We're through, Mulder. It's all over." But Mulder was locked in his own head, it seemed, struggling with whatever demons this situation had unleashed. Skinner grew more worried and decided it was time to get him moving. He forced his attention, getting him to a standing position, then helping him readjust his clothes. The young man kept sobbing, shaking his head and looking like some internal dialogue was driving him to the edge of despair. Skinner finally pulled him into an embrace, both arms going around the now shaking young agent, trying to recapture his full attention to the present moment. Something else was going on and the AD had a reasonably good idea what it was. But that didn't make it any easier to deal with, since he knew he was the root of this latest Mulder crisis. And that drove him crazy. "I want you to get ready for bed, Mulder," he said gently but the younger man made no move to comply, as though he wasn't comprehending. Skinner was worried but his response to worry was always to do something and he started moving him into the bedroom by force. "Come on, that's it. This way, Mulder," he said soothingly, finally getting him there. He reached into the overnight bag and pulled out a pair of sweats he knew Mulder generally slept in. Skinner helped him get ready for bed, then guided him under the covers and tucked him in. Mulder had stopped sobbing, but his face was tear-streaked and his eyes were red and pained. Skinner took a seat on the edge of the bed and reached to push Mulder's sweat-soaked hair off his forehead. "I told you last week that I was proud of you, Mulder," he began, only to be stopped by the physical reaction that engendered in the young man in front of him. Mulder flinched as though he'd been slapped and shut his eyes tightly, trying to physically shut out his next words. Mulder's mind raced with the possible paths this conversation might take, none of them destinations he wanted to go. He shook his head almost imperceptibly to signal he didn't want to talk. But the other man was having none of it. "Look at me, Mulder," he insisted. "I'm talking to you. Look at me." He waited for the young man to obey, then he began again. "Thank you. Now, I want you to listen to me, and listen to me good. I'm probably not going to say this often. I'm proud of you, despite the fact you sometimes do things that disappointment me. I know you didn't want to be grounded last week, and I thought long and hard about it myself. But you violated one of the most important things we've covered together, Mulder. Looking out for your own safety is something we've worked on, many times. And ignoring that is something you deserved to be punished for. I'm not backing down from that." Mulder nodded; he couldn't disagree with what the man was saying. "But you wanted to ski with Andy, so you disobeyed me. I can understand it, Mulder. I. . . have to admit there were a few times in my life when I chose that course, too. Instant gratification over potentially worse punishment, if I got caught. Once in a great while, I got away with it, but mostly . . . well, you get caught eventually! As you found out tonight. And even when you don't get caught, it eats away at you inside, the dishonesty. Lies can't be supported, can't be sustained, with people you love, Mulder." He stopped, seeing his young agent nodding vigorously. "I see you know what I mean," Skinner said with a smile. "That's good. So the thing you have to know too is that, this incident, doesn't change anything between you and me. And last month when I 'went south' on you temporarily, that doesn't change anything either. We're family. We love each other," he continued as he reached out and took the silver medal around Mulder's neck in his hand. It was the one Skinner had given him, to signal definitively that he was 'family,' to close the deal in Mulder's mind. He was glad to see him wearing it again. "Whatever happens, I will always care about you, and consider you family. And I am very proud of you." Mulder was watching him intensely, and now a single tear escaped from his brimming eyes and ran down his left cheek. A tear of relief. "I was afraid that if-- if you thought-- if you thought all the time you've put into me was a waste, that I learned nothing, that you'd. . . . " He stopped because he still couldn't put the fear into words. But it hit Skinner suddenly and with a blinding force. "Mulder, believe me, I had a moment of . . . confusion that had to do with knowing someone else, that smoking s.o.b., had his hands around my throat, literally. But you came through for me when I was confused and I-- believe me, that's just another reason I'm grateful to have you in my life. Another reason to be proud of you. But hear me, nothing you do, or don't do, will ever disappoint me to the point that I'd decide to check out on you. I need to know you know that, once and for all. Do you?" Mulder felt a weight of fear fall away that he hadn't even been fully aware of. It had been chipping away at his peace of mind, what little he had, for weeks now. He nodded once again, then he spoke, softly. "I know now. And I won't forget again, sir." Skinner smiled and looked off into the distance for a second before returning to look directly into Mulder's eyes. "You know, after all we've been through, kid, you could call me 'Walter'." Mulder chuckled and shook his head. "No, sir, I don't think I'd feel right about that. And anyway, then I'd have to let you call me 'Fox,' wouldn't I?" THE END