The Danville Series
by Cadillac Red


Disclaimer: Fox Mulder, Dana Scully and Walter Skinner do not belong 
to me; they belong to Chris Carter and Fox. I mean no harm and will 
make no money from their use.

Spoilers: None

Setting: Sixth Season

Rating: PG. Discipline, no slash. Special thanks to Dswdiane for 
beta-reading (and being an absolute comma vigilante!)

Title: The Confession

Author: Cadillac Red

Summary: In typical fashion, Mulder risks his life to apprehend a 
serial killer. But perhaps some of the lessons he's learned from the 
AD have sunk in . . . .






The Confession


Rosalita's Cafe
Minneapolis, Minnesota

The crowd of people enjoying an evening out together must have looked 
odd to the casual observer. Ranging in age from their mid-twenties to 
early fifties, they were well-dressed in business suits, and the men 
and women were all clean-cut and very professional looking.

Yet, they were raucous and high-spirited in the extreme. The men had 
all shed their jackets, and the group ordered beer and margaritas by 
the pitcher to go with their dinners. They pumped money into the juke 
box at a rate that made the bartender wonder if it would burn out. And 
if they played "I Fought the Law and the Law Won" one more time, he'd 
make sure it did burn out, the man thought, sighing. He knew these 
were FBI agents from the local bureau office, and they'd solved a 
major, high-profile case in the last 48 hours but, really, there was a 
limit.

"This was a great idea, Walt," Will Dempsey shouted in AD Skinner's 
ear, trying to be heard above the music. "The team's been working on 
this so long and so hard, they needed to blow off a little steam."

Skinner smiled as he continued to keep an eye on the crowd of agents. 
It was important for them to have a chance to let down their hair, and 
vent some of the pressure they'd been living under for the past six 
months. But he was also making certain it didn't get out of hand, and 
that no one tried to drive themselves home tonight. "Your people did a 
great job, Will," he said matter-of-factly. "This was a clean arrest. 
This guy'll be convicted in a heartbeat. They deserve to celebrate."

"Yeah, but my people couldn't have done it without Scully and Mulder," 
Dempsey told him, signaling the bartender to bring them both another 
beer. "Agent Scully's forensic work helped prove that this was a 
serial killer. None of the ME's picked up the similarities. And Mulder 
. . . . Well, what can I say about that guy? He clued us in to the 
idea there might be a pattern just from newspaper reports he saw. His 
profile, the one he did voluntarily, on his own time, was right on the 
money. And he kept in touch with the team here, again on his own 
volition, for almost six months, asking questions and suggesting 
avenues of investigation. He like to drove Chris Jenkins crazy a few 
times but . . . it sure paid off in the end."

Skinner was suffused with pride over the compliments to both Scully 
and Mulder. But especially Mulder. He'd grown fond of the younger 
agent in recent years and had come to love him like a younger brother 
or the son he never had. Skinner knew Mulder tended to put off other 
people in the Bureau. He made enemies far faster than other people, 
because of his single-mindedness and his inability to look the other 
way for the sake of political expediency. It was nice to hear someone 
praise him, without reservation, for the generosity and passionate 
pursuit of justice that drove him on in the face of often 
insurmountable odds.

This case had not been assigned to Mulder or Scully to begin with. In 
fact, Skinner had only learned of Mulder's involvement when Scully 
submitted a 302 form requesting permission to perform an autopsy, at 
her partner's behest. He'd reprimanded Mulder for failing to notify 
Skinner of his involvement in this case. But he let it go without real 
punishment, once he heard from Dempsey that Mulder's input had been 
instrumental in helping them get the first real lead in the case. 
Skinner had signed the 302 for Scully and one for Mulder, too, 
providing the documentation to keep him out of hot water with OPR. 

Since then, though they had their own work, both agents had stayed in 
touch with, and on top of, this case. Women, from the young twenties 
to mid-fifties, were being kidnapped and found dead a few weeks later, 
in a variety of different locations. The victims appeared to have 
nothing in common, but Mulder picked up from newspaper accounts they 
were all nurturers, people who took care of their family and friends. 

When the pattern shifted suddenly, two women taken at once, then 
another a day later, Mulder had immediately recognized that the killer 
was close to a breaking point. He clued the team in to what to look 
for, someone whose life was spinning out of control, whose safety net 
had suddenly disappeared. They'd picked up Jared Dennis Sparrow just a 
few weeks after the funeral of the mother he'd lived with for all of 
his 54 years. And sure enough, her health had been deteriorating for 
the past year, and she'd been hospitalized for most of the last six 
months. Every point in Mulder's profile had been right on target.

At the other end of the table, Chris Jenkins joked with Mulder that 
the only thing more he could have given them was a snapshot of the 
killer. "Preferably a recent one. Could you manage that next time, 
Mulder?" the guy had asked, slapping the embarrassed younger agent on 
the back. 

Most people generally conceded Mulder was brilliant, despite the 
number of them who also thought he didn't belong in the FBI. But it 
always amazed Skinner that Mulder himself didn't seem to believe it. 
Oh, he could put on a good show, when someone got arrogant with him. 
But deep down, he didn't really believe that his talents were 
exceptional, compared to other agents. And tonight, he seemed a little 
uncomfortable with all the praise, guilty even. He cast sidelong 
glances at Skinner when he thought the AD wasn't looking. Skinner 
noted it, and wondered privately how long it would take Mulder to tell 
him about the thing that was weighing on his mind.

He and the Bureau Chief had taken this team out to dinner in 
celebration of their success on this case and, for his part, the AD 
couldn't help but be pleased by the fact that Mulder and Scully were 
relaxing and enjoying themselves to some extent. And that Mulder 
seemed to have developed a bit of a rapport with the other agents on 
this team. This marked a change in Mulder's normal pattern and Skinner 
wanted to let him revel in the congratulations and thanks coming from 
the Minneapolis field office personnel.

At Skinner's insistence, Dempsey had arranged for cars to drive all of 
the team home and by midnight most of them had gone. They'd all been 
given the next day off to sleep it off, but months of hard work and 
pressure had left everyone exhausted. Like a flame that burns hot, 
then expires, this party had revved up early and hit a peak they rode 
through dinner and another couple of hours after but then exhaustion 
took over. One by one, they said their good-byes and headed out. The 
last two cars were for Dempsey and Jenkins, heading together toward 
the suburbs and Skinner, Scully and Mulder, going to their hotel 
across town.

"Mulder, I really can't thank you enough," Jenkins said for about the 
tenth time since they stepped out of the restaurant. "This would never 
have concluded so well or so fast without your help, man." He gave 
Mulder a hug that surprised the younger man at first but then Mulder 
returned it in kind. 

"And, listen, thank you too," Mulder said quietly, hoping not to be 
heard by anyone else. "I mean it, Chris. Thanks for . . . everything."

They parted with additional words of gratitude all around and in a few 
minutes, Skinner used his card key to access his hotel room. The AD 
had had only three beers all night, but after two days of debriefing 
and press conferences, even a hotel room bed seemed like the call of a 
siren right now. He dropped his jacket on the back of the desk chair, 
laid his tie on top, and headed into the bathroom.

Coming out a few minutes later, Skinner shrugged off his white shirt 
and was about to pull off his tee shirt when there was a knock on his 
door. At first, he thought it was the hall door, but another knock 
told him it was the connecting door to Mulder's room. He unlocked it 
and stepped away, letting the younger man follow him in.

"What's the matter, Mulder?" he asked with a smile. "Too wound up to 
sleep?"

Mulder gave him a small, tentative smile in return. "Yeah, I guess I 
am a little wired, sir," he said, coming to a stop about two feet into 
the A.D.'s room. "But that's not why I'm here." He had made two 
attempts at making eye contact with the other man during this short 
speech, each time flicking his eyes up for no more than a second, then 
glancing all around the room in between. Skinner recognized it as a 
typical Mulder nervous gesture, so he took a seat on the bed and 
motioned for the young man to sit down somewhere, too.

"Do you want to talk about it, kid?"

Mulder swallowed hard, then took the desk chair and turned it around, 
perching on the edge of the wooden seat. Skinner thought he looked 
like a long-tail cat in a room full of rocking chairs and he 
suppressed the smile that threatened to break through.

"Hmm?" he prompted the younger man.

"Well, I never did--" he began, then obviously thought better of it. 
He cleared his throat and started over. "I didn't really 'check in' 
with you the last couple of nights. I mean, I know we saw each other 
and talked and everything. . . ."

"Well, SAC Dempsey and I spent a good part of yesterday afternoon and 
this morning debriefing the team, son," Skinner said gently. 
"Including you. So I imagine I know everything you've been doing for 
the past few days. I mean, between the debriefing, and the reports 
I've read, I guess I have a handle on all the details. Exactly the way 
they happened . . . ."

He watched Mulder process this speech and grow more uncomfortable as 
the words sank in. Skinner had been carrying his suspicions close to 
the vest for the past day or so, wondering whether the younger agent 
would come clean on his own.

"Well, that's why I'm here, sir," he said quietly. "I-- everything in 
the reports and the debriefing was true, up to a point. But there was 
one thing--"

"You ditched the team and went after Sparrow alone. Is that the thing, 
Mulder?" 

The young man's head snapped up in shock, and his mouth hung open for 
a split second before he began to get a handle on his reaction. "How 
did you know?"

Skinner chuckled warmly. "I've been working with you a long time now 
And I know you pretty well. When you talked about actually 
apprehending him, you skipped right from the final clue that told you 
where to find him to his apprehension and then the part where he was 
read his rights by someone else on the team. You're not generally that 
fuzzy on details, unless the details are things you don't want anyone 
to know about."

Mulder nodded. He'd been unable to force himself to make up anything 
untrue so he'd decided to just put the real facts he wanted people to 
know and hope for the best. He should have known Skinner would 
remember that trick from previous times he'd tried it.

"And Jenkins' report was very ambiguous on the same points," Skinner 
continued. "He was covering your back. And you were covering his. I 
don't think Dempsey noticed but I've had a lot more experience with 
your . . . patterns, Mulder."

"I don't want to get Jenkins in trouble, sir!" Mulder exclaimed, 
horrified. "He didn't do anything wrong! I left them all behind 
because I was afraid Sparrow was past the point of caring about what 
happened to him. And too dangerous to expose multiple agents to 
whatever he might do . . . ."

"But you're expendable? Is that what you mean?" Skinner's voice was 
quiet and low, but Mulder heard the edge of steel in it.

"No! That's not what I meant! I mean, that's not . . . I didn't think 
of myself as expendable. Just . . . I just thought, the guy's gonna be 
unpredictable. I could handle whatever he tried to do myself. But I 
wasn't sure what everyone else would do. And introducing too many 
variables into the equation might result in a disaster. That's all I 
meant."

Skinner relaxed. He could understand how Mulder reached that 
conclusion. He was mentally agile and extremely flexible, able to roll 
with the punches better than most agents. He rarely did much 
pre-planning because his brain was processing all the data and making 
decisions and revisions on the spot, all the time. It was a skill that 
served him well, working alone or just with Scully, who was so in tune 
with him. 

But working in a larger team, he usually ended up looking like a 
maverick and a troublemaker because the plan developed prior to an 
event would seem irrelevant to him when the new data appeared, and 
he'd revise his planned responses on the spot. Which generally made 
him appear insubordinate to whomever was running the operation. 
Skinner had been on the other end of that situation himself once or 
twice with Mulder.

"I see. So you left the team behind and went after Sparrow yourself. 
Didn't even tell Scully?" he asked.

"No, sir. She was performing the autopsy on the last victim. I was at 
the office when the final bit of information came in, about where 
Sparrow might be. I sent an e-mail to Jenkins and the team, with the 
information. But I set it to 'send' a half hour after I left. That way 
I could get there first and assess the situation. Maybe calm him down 
enough to surrender."

"Did Jenkins think you were trying to seize the glory for yourself, 
Mulder?"

"No, I don't think he ever thought that. We've become . . . we've 
reached an understanding, I guess. He knew I only wanted to bring the 
killing to an end. That I'm not even in Violent Crimes, so this is not 
a career enhancer for me. And I told him I'd be in big trouble if you 
found out so . . . He just naturally tried to cover my ass. I 
appreciated it, a lot. Not many other agents would do that for me. 
That's why I don't want to get him in trouble, sir. Please!"

Skinner listened to Mulder's story and his plea for Jenkins. It was so 
hard for him to admit to himself that he and Jenkins were friends. It 
always seemed difficult for him to imagine anyone really liked him, 
let alone loved him. But despite that, he'd managed to establish a 
good, working relationship with this guy, one that reached the point 
of being mutually supportive. Skinner was so pleased with this step 
forward for Mulder that he'd been thinking about overlooking the 
entire situation. If the younger man came forward and confessed. Which 
he was doing right now. Skinner rolled it over in his head and was 
still not certain whether letting this go would serve to encourage 
Mulder, or make him think their rules were only enforced sometimes. 
Which would only make him feel insecure and rudderless.

The AD rose and went to stand next to Mulder. "I knew all of that, 
kid. Or most of it. And I'm really proud of you for your work on this 
case. For the way you handled it, how well you did working with this 
team, working with Jenkins. Coming back from a less than positive 
start with the guy. But mostly I'm proud of you for coming here and 
telling me tonight. For thinking the whole thing through and coming to 
all the right decisions."

Mulder felt tears well up in his eyes and he instinctively threw his 
arms around the other man's waist, hugging him tightly. He was 
relieved when Skinner returned the hug and began stroking the back of 
his head soothingly.

"I'm not so pleased with your decision to go for Sparrow alone, 
though. I understand your thinking on this one, but it's still wrong, 
son. You have to learn to trust other people to do their jobs. They 
may not all be as smart as you, but they're competent professionals. 
And you had already earned this team's respect. You could have set up 
a small team, with you leading, just in case the situation went sour. 
If that had happened, you would have needed help."

Mulder nodded his head as if he understood but Skinner suspected that 
lesson would take a little longer.

"So. You did a lot of things right, kid. And coming here and telling 
me what you did wrong, that took courage and self-discipline."

Mulder felt a wave of relief wash over him. It lasted about a half a 
minute, then the keen objectivity he was able to apply to most 
situations kicked in. And he knew without a doubt what was coming 
next. He sighed deeply and leaned back in the chair, away from the AD 
He looked up, directly into Skinner's warm brown eyes, eyes that were 
full of love for him. Of that he was also certain.

"I can't believe I'm asking this but . . . . Are you gonna punish me. 
. . . ?" His words faded to a whisper.

Skinner was surprised by his question. And he immediately recognized 
that Mulder was torn between what he wanted and what he knew he 
needed. 

"Do you think you deserve to be punished?" 

Mulder looked up in surprise. Skinner had never left it up to him 
before. . . . He toyed with telling the AD he thought he'd been 
punished enough just worrying about what would happen when the older 
man found out. But a part of him was worried that the AD had asked his 
opinion on the matter. And what that said about Skinner's commitment 
to him.

"Well," he said slowly, trying to buy time while he thought about what 
the right answer was. What answer Skinner wanted to hear from him. And 
what outcome he himself preferred. "I guess I'd like to just walk away 
now, sir. I mean, I confessed without you having to force it out of 
me. . . . That oughta count for something. . . . "

Sensing Mulder had decidedly mixed feelings about the question, the AD 
stepped in smoothly. He squatted down beside Mulder and spoke in a 
low, authoritative voice. "Look at me, Mulder," he said, then waited 
for the young man to do as instructed. "Tell me the truth. Do you 
deserve to be punished?"

Mulder stared at him a good twenty seconds. He swallowed hard and his 
hazel eyes darkened with emotions he couldn't begin to sort out. 
Finally, tears welled in his eyes and he nodded, first tentatively, 
then with conviction.

"Good. I'm glad you reached that conclusion yourself," Skinner said as 
he stood up. Tears had sprung to his own eyes as he heard the trust, 
and faith, in Mulder's words. Pushing back on a wave of sentiment that 
threatened to derail what he had to do next, he spoke quickly. 
"Because that was my answer, too. And my answer's the one that counts 
anyway!"

Mulder exhaled forcefully, a sound that hung halfway between a laugh 
and a sob. He gave the AD a tight-lipped smile that spoke of his 
relief and his trepidation.

Skinner rose and went to the bed, unbuckling his belt as he walked. He 
removed it quickly and sat down on the bed. "You know what to do, 
Mulder," he said succinctly.

A shocked look rose on the young man's face, and he didn't move a 
muscle. "The belt? I-- I don't think I did anything that bad--"

Skinner doubled the belt in his right hand and gave the younger man a 
glare that showed his impatience with being questioned about this 
decision, at this hour of the night. "Did I ask for your opinion about 
what you should be punished with?"

Mulder stood up but he was still acting on a rebellious impulse. "I 
mean, I came here and busted myself, sir," he argued. "That should 
count for something!"

Skinner eyed him evenly. "That counts for a lot, actually. But tell 
me, what did you come here and bust yourself for?"

"For ditching the team--"

"And?"

"And going after Sparrow alone--"

"Resulting in?"

Mulder hesitated for a moment before replying. "Me risking my life . . 
. needlessly," he answered slowly.

"And that always earns you?"

Mulder sighed theatrically and rolled his eyes heavenward. "A 
strapping, sir," he muttered. He dragged his heels as he made his way 
over to the other man and knelt next to Skinner's knees. But his face 
remained a study in annoyance.

"A face like that could earn you a few extra licks, Mulder," the AD 
told him and watched him shed it immediately. It was replaced by his 
repentant choirboy expression and Skinner nearly laughed despite 
himself. <You really do think I was born yesterday, don't you, kid?>

The AD had noticed Mulder had changed into sweat pants and a tee shirt 
before knocking on the connecting door. That was a pretty good 
indication he expected something of the sort of reaction he had 
gotten. He waited for Mulder to continue preparing himself but the 
young man merely knelt there, staring and waiting for further 
instructions. 

Skinner was surprised and amused by this show of rebellion. It was not 
out of character but the younger man had been so overwrought of late, 
it had not been part of his recent behavioral patterns. In some ways, 
the AD was glad to have the old Mulder back. And he knew from what the 
young agent had said that he truly knew he deserved to be punished. So 
the older man decided to best him at his own game. He stared back in 
expectant silence.

Mulder stayed the course a good thirty seconds before he blinked. Then 
his eyes started darting around the room, unable to hold the A.D.'s 
unwavering gaze. In another thirty seconds, he sighed and pushed down 
his sweat pants. He had nothing underneath them and, once they were 
almost to his knees, he glanced at Skinner again, then leaned forward 
across the other man's knees. Where he waited another ten seconds 
before speaking.

"Sir?" he said, looking back over his shoulder. "I--I'm ready. . . 
whenever you are." 

Skinner bit his tongue to keep from smiling. "Thank you, Mulder," he 
said gravely before raising the belt and striking the bare bottom the 
young man had presented. "Now, what's this strapping for?"

Mulder yelped. "Ouccchhh! For risking my life! For not asking for 
back-up! Ohhh! For-- Owwwww! For ditching the team and thinking I had 
to get Sparrow alone! For not trusting my colleagues! Ouccchh! 
Oooohhh!"

"And what else?" the AD asked, maintaining a steady rhythm as he laid 
stroke after stroke on the fleshiest part of the young man's backside. 
It had reddened quickly and he was wriggling against the onslaught, 
but Skinner knew this licking would leave no lasting damage. Mulder's 
butt would sting a whole lot right now, and he'd be semi-uncomfortable 
for the trip home tomorrow.

"OWWWW! For l-leaving those details out of my report!" he cried, as 
his responses moved from cries of discomfort to sobs of repentance. 
"And for acting like a brat just now! Pulling faces like a kid! I'm 
sorry! I'm sorry, sir!"

Skinner laid one more lick right across the 'sit spot' and then threw 
the belt down on the bed beside him. Mulder laid there, sobbing, for 
another minute as the older man rubbed his back soothingly before 
pulling up his sweat pants and sliding him onto his own knees on the 
floor. Mulder and Skinner reached for each other simultaneously and 
the AD was struck by how easily the younger man gave himself over to 
comfort now. Another good sign. He'd been worried about Mulder lately, 
but all of these were promising indicators.

"You were right," he said quietly. "You needed more than a lecture, 
kid."

Mulder gulped air and nodded his head vigorously. His sobs were 
rapidly turning into tear-soaked hitches and, in a second, it was 
evident he'd developed a severe case of hiccups. Skinner fought off a 
smile as Mulder tried to hold his breath in a valiant effort to stop 
them. But in his current state he was unable to do so. 

"I'll go get you a glass of cold water, Mulder," he said, releasing 
the younger man and watching him seat himself gingerly on the bed. 
"Don't go anywhere."

The young man shook his head. Skinner headed for the bathroom, 
grabbing a clean glass off the top of the mini-bar. He had to let the 
water run for a couple of minutes to actually get it cold enough and 
when he finally returned to the room, he found Mulder had pulled down 
the covers and gotten into bed. And he was now sound asleep, lying on 
his stomach, with both pillows bunched up under his head.

"Mulder, this is my room," Skinner said, loudly enough to wake him if 
he was still in a light sleep. But the young man in the bed didn't 
move and his breathing had calmed to the slow, gentle pace that 
indicated he was out for the duration. Skinner took a sip from the 
glass of water, recalling just how much the young agent had had to 
drink and how little sleep he probably got for the last few days. That 
and the strong emotional release of a few minutes ago guaranteed he 
was down for the count, the AD concluded.

He laid the glass down as soon as he made his decision. Grabbing his 
pajamas, he stopped next to the bed before heading to Mulder's room. 
He knew it would be a textbook example of disarray, but he'd rough it 
for one night. Tomorrow they'd go home.

"Sleep well," he said, gently pulling the covers up over Mulder. "You 
deserve it, kid."

THE END