The Danville Series by Cadillac Red Disclaimer: The characters of Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, Walter Skinner, et al belong to 1013 Productions and I and will make no money from their use. Spoilers: Nothing significant Setting: Sixth Season. Many details and characters come from previous stories in this series. Rating: PG. No discipline, no slash. Title: Take 2 Author: Cadillac Red Author's note: This series was inspired by Xanthe's story "Red" and is loosely related to an unfinished work by Mangst and Xanthe called "Reset". I appreciate their generous approval to go ahead with my version of the same scenario. Summary: A baby is left on AD Skinner's doorstep. Walter Skinner's Apartment Crystal City, Virginia 7 a.m., Thursday, May 20 Walter Skinner finished knotting his tie and slipped his suit jacket on over broad shoulders. He picked up the coffee cup he'd carried into the bedroom earlier and headed to the hall and into the kitchen. It was abnormally quiet in the apartment when Mulder wasn't here now, he thought idly. Even when he wasn't required there because of a punishment tour, the younger agent had begun to spend a night or two a week, sometimes three, with Skinner, and the older man had become accustomed to the chaos and noise that went along with his presence. But he'd been gone over a week now, pursuing a case that would most certainly turn out to be a dead end. Mulder was in a rural area of North Dakota with his partner, Special Agent Dana Scully, to check on a lead about genetic engineering tests being conducted at an unknown facility, at an undisclosed location there. There had been little evidence to substantiate his request to open an investigation but the X-files unit had nothing else on its schedule at the moment, and Mulder had been on his 'don't I deserve the benefit of the doubt?' tear. It had been easier to just let him go than to argue any more. Scully came back a day earlier because of a forensics conference she wanted to attend. Mulder had obstinately chosen to stay on but he'd given up by the time the Assistant Director got his 'check-in' call last night. He'd thought the young agent sounded a little disappointed that the lead didn't pan out but when Skinner mentioned NBA playoff tickets for the weekend, he got over his disappointment fast. "I'll catch the first plane in the morning," he said eagerly. "I'll call when I reach the office." But Mulder had not called when he got in and Skinner had heard from Scully that he never made it to the office yesterday at all. The AD had a business commitment last night and so the two men hadn't spoken yesterday. He shook his head, planning to track the younger man down first thing this morning and read him the riot act about not keeping in touch with his partner or his boss. For the old Mulder, 24 hours out of contact would hardly have been worth noting. Skinner smiled as he considered how far the younger man had come in recent years. Once, they'd had trouble keeping track of Mulder for days at a time. Things certainly had changed, he mused. He took a last look around the apartment and noted that everything was in its place, another sign Mulder hadn't been around in a few days. Skinner opened the front door of his apartment and nearly fell over something sitting in the hallway, right smack in the middle of the doorway. He grasped the frame to keep from tumbling over and saw with shock that it was a plastic baby carrier. "What the hell. . . ?!" He squatted down and saw that there was indeed a baby in the thing. "Jesus Christ. . . !" Skinner stood and walked out into the hallway, carefully stepping around the carrier. He looked up and down the hall both ways and saw no one. He took another look at the baby, who appeared to be no more than a few months old, to his admittedly less than knowledgeable eye. Squatting down once again, he made eye contact with the baby, who was alert and smiling at him as though this were the world's best game. "How ya doing, little guy?" he asked quietly, as the child grasped his finger "And how'd you get here anyway?" He felt around the carrier, moving the blue blanket that covered the baby and found no note or any thing other than a rattle, a pacifier and an empty bottle. Skinner rose and picked up the baby, carrier and all, and took it carefully into his living room. He left his front door open in case the parents came looking for him, and used the house intercom to call down to the doorman. "Louis? Who came in here with a baby this morning?" he queried his doorman as soon as the poor man answered. On being told no one had entered with a baby, Skinner insisted he call the night man and see if he remembered anyone with a baby carrier. Then he hung up and made a decision. Any parents who would just leave their child like this should be reported to the authorities. He called the local precinct and identified himself, then sat back to wait for them to come. He had been shaking the rattle at the baby to amuse him, but now the child grew bored with that. Skinner picked up the pacifier and tried popping that into his mouth. The baby took it eagerly and began sucking for all he was worth. The AD eyed the bottle and thought perhaps his small guest was hungry but he was relatively certain he didn't have anything the kid could eat. Then he remembered that his sister-in-law had left powdered baby formula behind during one of her visits. He'd put it in the pantry, planning to give it back the next time she and Andy visited. "Let's see if I still have it," he told the baby as he picked up the carrier and headed for the kitchen. "And if it's still good." Maintaining a running commentary of nothing very important to keep the baby occupied, he searched the pantry until he found what he was looking for. It had never been opened and had good instructions on the side of the can. He followed them to the letter, measuring the powder carefully, then filling the bottle with the liquid. "This doesn't smell good to me, but it does smell exactly as I remember so . . . I think it's all right. Let's see what you think, okay, kid?" He continued the mindless patter as he twisted the cap back onto the plastic bottle. Skinner held the bottle up to the baby's mouth and watched him attack it with gusto, sucking it down hungrily. "Must be all right," he muttered, amused by the greedy way the child was emptying the bottle. Picking up the carrier with one hand and holding the bottle for the baby with the other, he made his way back into the living room and sat down just as the police arrived. He'd barely told them the story when his office called to see where he was. He informed Kim he'd be delayed, then asked to be transferred to Mulder. "Scully," a voice answered a moment later. "Hi, Scully," he replied. "Is Mulder there yet?" "No, sir," she answered. "I'm expecting him any minute though. Do you want me to have him call you?" "Yes. Tell him I'm still at home. Someone left a baby on my doorstep this morning—" "What?" "I know, Scully. It's like something from a very old, very bad movie. The locals are here now and they're gonna take the kid over to Social Services. Tell Mulder I'll want to see him as soon as I get there. . . . " *********************************************************************** Office of AD Skinner FBI Headquarters 11:30 a.m. "He never made the plane from North Dakota?" Skinner questioned Scully. "And he hasn't called you or me today. What did they say at the motel?" "He didn't check out this morning. Or last night. His things are still in the room, and the rental car's still in the parking lot," she said. She was agitated, and obviously kicking herself about having left him behind. "And he's not answering his cell phone, I've tried several times," Skinner ground out, rising from his desk chair and beginning to pace. "The local office is sending a couple of agents over to see what they can find. I'm sure he's fine, Scully. . . . ." "I'll go back to North Dakota—" she began, only to be stopped by the AD "No, I'm certain he'll be here soon. I have tickets for the NBA playoffs tomorrow night," he cut her off. "And you know Mulder. He'll make it back for that, if he has to walk all the way from North Dakota." She smiled for the first time since this morning. "You're right, sir. I have no doubt he'll be here before that game starts." But Mulder did not make it back in time for the game and Scully and Skinner were on a plane to North Dakota by Saturday night. They spent the next three days searching for him but found no sign of the missing agent. All of his clothes, his weapon, his cell phone and his computer were in the motel room but there was no sign of Mulder. And there was no evidence of a struggle or any violence either. That was the only semi-hopeful note in all of this. When they left North Dakota on Wednesday morning, a sense of depression had descended on both of them but there was nothing more to be done there, so Skinner insisted they both return to Washington. *********************************************************************** Office of the Assistant Director FBI Headquarters Friday afternoon Kim closed the door behind her gently, grimacing to herself. She looked up into the exhausted face of Dana Scully. "You look as bad as the AD," she said quietly. "Are you getting any sleep at all?" "Not much," Scully admitted. "It's just so damn. . . ." Words failed her and she just shook her head. "Is he free?" "Yes," Kim told her, "but he's in a foul humor. Not that you look any better." She opened the door to the inner office again, certain that her boss would want to see Scully. He looked up, and for a moment he looked hopeful but the expression on the female agent's face wiped that right away. It was clear she had no news either. Kim let her walk in, then closed the door behind her. Skinner proceeded to fill Scully in on all the dead ends the Bismarck field office had come up against. There was not a shred of evidence to point them in any particular direction. Mulder had simply disappeared without a trace. "I've even been in touch with the Lone Gunmen," Skinner sighed. "They're amazingly good. Managed to check his credit card records and cell phone activity faster than the Bureau could. But nothing. Not a goddam clue as to where he's gone." "I've been over his apartment already, but I thought I'd try again tonight," Scully said, rising. "Maybe . . . ." Skinner knew she was grasping at straws but he realized he couldn't let her do it alone. "I'll go along with you, Scully," he said as he stood and rolled the sleeves of his shirt down. "I don't have the energy for any more paperwork right now anyway." They pulled up in front of Mulder's apartment some 30 minutes later but just as they were ascending the front steps, Skinner's cell phone trilled. Answering it, he stopped dead in his tracks. "What did you find out?" he said quickly, then realized immediately that Scully thought he was referring to Mulder. He cupped his hand over the phone and whispered. "It's about that baby that was left at my door." He listened another moment and frowned. "Yes, I know Fox Mulder. He's one of my agents . . . " This time Scully's full attention came to bear on the AD and the conversation he was having. "I don't think I understand . . . I'll be right there." He snapped the phone closed and pocketed it. "I have to get to the medical center. I'm not sure what they're getting at but . . . I think they think the baby is Mulder's." That was all Scully needed to hear. She was in the passenger seat of the Assistant Director's jeep before he got in himself. She questioned him relentlessly on the drive over but Skinner was unable to tell her more than he'd heard, that the doctor thought there was a connection between the baby left at his door and Mulder. *********************************************************************** Georgetown Medical Center Washington, D.C. Pediatric Unit "This Dr. Scully, Agent Mulder's partner," Skinner said as soon as they located Dr. Winston. The harried physician took them into a waiting room as Skinner finished the introduction. "I thought she should hear this, too." The man looked just as confused as he'd sounded on the phone. He started to speak, then the sound of a baby screaming rose up from a room just down the hall, distracting them all. The child sounded like it was being tortured and Skinner and Scully both had to steel themselves against the anguished cries. Skinner tried to ignore it and get the doctor's attention back to their conversation. "You said you think this child is . . . related to Fox Mulder?" he asked pointedly. The screaming rose to new decibel levels and a nurse appeared in the hallway, holding a writhing baby. "Doctor! I can't . . . we need to sedate him," the nurse yelled, trying to be heard over the child's screams. The baby continued to cry "no, no, no" as she approached the waiting room and, as soon as they were within reach, the child put his arms out to Skinner. To his amazement, the nurse handed the screaming baby over to the AD and the piercing cries began to abate a little. The baby seemed to want to try to climb right over Skinner's shoulder, trying to get away but he did calm down as the Assistant Director's arms closed around him. Acting on instinct, the AD began to rock the hysterical child. "Poor baby," the nurse clucked. "Can't really blame him. The way we've been pokin' him and proddin' him. Drawin' blood. That darn spinal tap--" "Spinal tap?" Scully asked anxiously. "What's wrong with him?" She looked at Skinner questioningly and he jumped in to reassure her. "This isn't the baby that was left at my door, Scully," he said quickly. "This one--" "Yes, it is!" Dr. Winston exclaimed. "That's what I've been trying to tell you." He appeared slightly less unnerved, now that the child's incessant crying was beginning to end. The baby had wrapped his arms around Skinner's neck and nuzzled into his shoulder, his sobs slowing to intermittent hitches as he continued to calm down. "Doctor," Skinner said exasperatedly. "The baby I found was a couple of months old. This child is . . . I don't know, close to a year old, I'd say." "Yes, that's what we think, too," Dr. Winston said distractedly. "And I can't explain it but this child is growing at an alarmingly fast rate. About 4 or 5 months since he's been here, we estimate. We can't explain it. We've done every test available . . . . " Scully and Skinner's eyes were wide with shock and horror. But before they could ask any more questions, the doctor pulled two films out of the envelope he was holding. "These are the DNA results for this child," he continued, holding out one. "We ran it against all the donor databases and the federal employee database, trying to get a clue as to where this boy came from," he said. "This other one turned up--" He was cut off by another nurse, urgently calling him. "I'm sorry, I'll be right back," Dr. Winston said as he hurried off, muttering to himself. "There must be a full moon tonight." Scully watched him leave, then picked up the two films. One was dated a few days earlier and belonged to the child who had fallen asleep on Skinner's shoulder. She thought idly that there were people at the Bureau who'd give a week's pay to see such a sight. The Assistant Director continued to rock the little boy on his shoulder, rubbing slow circles on his back. No wonder he'd fallen asleep, Scully thought as she took a close look at the other film. It was dated a couple of years ago and said "F.W. Mulder" in the lower right hand corner. It was obviously done at some hospital Mulder had been in, it was hard to remember them all. She held it up to the light, along with the child's. "So, does it look like this is Mulder's child, Scully?" Skinner asked her quietly, trying not to waken the sleeping boy. She didn't answer. "Scully? Is this Mulder's child?" She blinked at the two films and slowly moved one on top of the other, pressing her lips together as she struggled with what she saw. "Scully?" "No. . . . " she breathed, dropping her arms and laying one hand on the sleeping child's back. "This isn't Mulder's child. Not according to these tests. . . . According to these . . . this is Mulder, sir." Skinner stared at her, expressionless. "How. . . ? That's not possible. There must be some mistake--" "Yes," she said with complete certainty. "There must be a mistake. Something's wrong with these results. And I'm going to find out what. And who's to blame." She headed out into the hall and toward the elevator. "Where are you going," Skinner called after her. "To see the Gunmen," she replied over her shoulder. ************************************************************************ Georgetown Medical Center Pediatric Unit 9:12 p.m. Scully walked down the hall slowly, not sure what she would say when she found Skinner. She stopped at the main station and asked the nurse if she knew where the AD was. Nurse Jenner was the one who'd brought the crying child to them earlier and she knew exactly where to find both of them. "Room 612," she said. "This is the first time the boy's been quiet without being sedated since he's been here. Don't disturb him, hon. The little fella needs some sleep desperately. And the big guy looks like he could use some rest, too." Scully nodded and promised she would not wake the baby. She stopped at the door to room 612, her heart skipping a beat at the scene there. The Assistant Director sat in an armchair, the sleeping child wrapped in his arms. The AD had a book on his lap and as Scully approached, she saw it was an old favorite of hers called "Good Night, Moon." But it lay open on the A.D.'s thigh and the man himself was dozing in the chair, his chin resting against the top of the boy's head. Scully reconsidered the idea of disturbing the two of them and was backing out when Skinner's head popped up and his eyes blinked open. "Scully," he said, embarrassed to be found asleep. "I guess I conked out along with junior here." He rose slowly, and walked to the crib. One side was down and he gently laid the sleeping child down, then pulled the side up quietly. The baby stirred and looked like he was about to wake but the AD grabbed a stuffed rabbit that was sitting in a corner of the crib and held it next to the baby. The child's arms closed around the rabbit and he sighed contentedly. Skinner walked to the door with Scully just ahead of him. "You seem to know what you're doing, sir," she said as they stepped out into the hallway. "I have a lot of nieces and nephews," he replied matter-of-factly. "But what you've just seen is the full extent of my expertise, unfortunately. What did you find?" Scully waited until they were in the waiting room. Then she spoke quietly, and with apparent shock. "I had the Gunmen access Mulder's records from a couple of different hospitals. Including the one in Alaska and the one in Antarctica. The blood results are an exact match. Mulder had DNA testing done one other time, sir. In San Diego. When we found Emily . . . " Her voice trailed off as she recalled the child she'd discovered the year before, who turned out to be her own daughter. She cleared her throat and continued. "We wanted to see if there was any match on his side. It's a long story but we just didn't know what to think at the time, about who Emily's father was. So we had it done privately. No one would have known. Those results are an exact match, too, sir." "What are you saying, Scully?" Skinner sat back, shaking his head. "That can't be Mulder! Couldn't a child's DNA be almost the same as a parent's?" "No, fifty percent of the result would be the same, but fifty percent would be different. There are only two explanations I can think of for these results, sir. Either that baby is Mulder. Or . . . the baby is a clone of Mulder." Skinner's eyes widened. "A clone? How? . . . Is that really possible, Scully?" "Well, sir, it's possible. In theory. It doesn't explain a lot of other things but . . . it seems like the most plausible explanation. Skinner shook his head, shock and a million unasked questions rendering him speechless. His mouth opened, then closed again, without a sound. He looked at the ceiling for a few seconds, then turned back to Scully. "But if that baby is a clone," he said, asking the first question that popped into his mind, "where the hell is Agent Mulder?" Georgetown Medical Center The following week Dana Scully took off her glasses and laid them on the lab table. She stared through the glass window into the isolation room next door. The baby was running a fever and the doctors at Georgetown Medical Center were playing it safe. The child appeared normal but his growth rate was off the charts. That was enough to set all their bells and whistles going. Now a temperature might mean he had a communicable disease of some kind. Or, as Nurse Jenner had responded with a cluck 'that the poor little thing's teethin', for God's sake!' Based on her findings, Scully had settled on the teething theory. She was so tired, she'd checked and rechecked the results to be sure she didn't miss anything. Assistant Director Skinner entered the room and went right to the window to see how the boy was doing. Their boss looked exhausted, too, Scully thought. Mulder had been missing for 10 days now, without a word or a trace of evidence as to where he'd gone. In the past several years, the absent younger agent had become like family to the AD, she knew, and he and his relatives were suffering terribly. As she was. And her own mother, who'd come to care a great deal about Mulder, too. Even the Gunmen were stumped and worried to distraction about him. She only wished that, when he returned, he'd have some sense of how much he was loved. After we all let him have it, for worrying us like this, she thought ruefully. At this point, it was her dearest hope that she'd have the opportunity to lay into him over this escapade. So far, the only one who didn't seem rocked by his disappearance was Mulder's own mother. Teena Mulder had sounded concerned, of course, when she and Skinner had gone to see her in Greenwich. But she told them her son often fell out of touch for weeks, or even months, over the years. But he always turned up, she said. Scully prayed the woman was right this time, too. Scully sighed as she watched the AD wave a little self-consciously at the boy, who was laughing and jumping up and down in his crib and waving back. She tried to think of the best way to tell Skinner where her research had led. Skinner heard her sigh and he waved once more at the child and walked over to his agent. "Anything, Scully?" She leaned back in the chair and nodded. "Yes. I . . . have results, sir. I just can't believe them." "Is he a . . . clone, Scully?" Scully lowered her eyes, pressing her lips together, a gesture that Skinner had learned to recognize as reluctance. He waited her out, allowing her to collect her thoughts, afraid of what she had found. "Sir," she exhaled, picking her eyes up and turning to look at the little boy who had just thrown his stuffed rabbit out of his crib, in a bid to get someone to come in and see him. All day long, only gowned, masked doctors and nurses had been allowed inside with him. He'd tried to get Skinner's and her attention with a winning smile. When that didn't work, he'd resorted to throwing things. She thought in passing that, while the actions lacked Mulder's sophistication, broken down to their simplest elements, they were just about right. "I believe. . . My best scientific judgment is that, he must be a clone, sir. I can't come up with another reasonable explanation. His DNA, blood type, finger prints, are an exact match for Mulder. And we have seen clones before, even though the medical establishment would say the technology to create human clones doesn't exist yet." "And what about the rapid aging, Scully? Is that unusual?" "Yes. That's highly unusual. In fact, there's no precedent for it that I can find except for some recent flurry in the press that Dolly, the cloned sheep has 'old DNA.' But that information's being hotly debated and it doesn't explain how quickly this child is growing . . . ." Her voice trailed off to nothing and she shook her head as her eyes came to rest on the little boy. The boy had been making noises and yelling for their attention. Now he was beginning to work himself up into a frenzy and was frantically jumping up and down in the crib inside the isolation chamber. Skinner turned to Scully suddenly. "And the temperature?" he asked her. "Do you think it's something communicable? Does he pose any health threat, in your opinion?" "No, sir, I don't think so. I think Nurse Jenner is right. He's cutting some teeth and--" she stopped and watched Skinner stride purposefully to the door of the isolation chamber, open it and step inside. The boy broke out in a smile and squealed with glee as the AD stopped to retrieve the stuffed rabbit, then picked the boy up out of the crib. Skinner walked him back into the adjacent room just as Nurse Jenner stepped through the main door from the hallway. "Well, finally," she huffed. "I kept telling everyone the little fella's okay. And a child like this, so smart and observant and so hungry for affection, can't be kept isolated. Now all we have to do is come up with a name for him." Skinner and Scully looked at each other in surprise. Neither of them had even progressed far enough in this scenario to consider a name for the child. "I guess we could call him 'Fox,'" Scully said slowly, turning to the AD "What do you think?" Skinner paused and looked at the little boy in his arms. "Well, it's a little more appropriate than 'Mulder,'" he said, nodding. "Hi, there, little Fox," Nurse Jenner was cooing, chucking the little boy under his chin and eliciting a burst of laughter from the little boy. "Is that your name, hon? Are we gonna call you Fox, darlin'?" The little boy laughed and giggled in Skinner's arms. "Fos," he repeated, or something close enough to that to bring a smile to all three of their faces. "Fox it is," Nurse Jenner said, satisfied that they were all in agreement. "Although, when Mulder comes back, I suspect he's gonna have a problem with that," Skinner added, reflecting the younger man's lack of enthusiasm for his own first name. "When he does get back . . . " his voice faded before he could complete the thought. Scully and he exchanged another glance, this one tinged with worry and dread. The same thought crossed both their minds as Skinner bounced the laughing child up and down absent-mindedly. Not when Mulder gets back, they were both too frightened to verbalize, but if he gets back. And the longer he was missing, the less likely that outcome became. Several days later Georgetown Medical Center Assistant Director Skinner had dropped by the hospital for the baby's lunch time feeding. The boy was growing like the proverbial weed and it took a lot of nourishment to fuel that growth. He turned out to love bananas, pears and apple sauce, hated all vegetables except carrots and drank down a bottle of milk faster than it took to prepare it for him. He'd cut a couple of teeth already and could chew small pieces of food as well, although his list of likes and dislikes was heavily weighted toward dislikes. Today Nurse Jenner was trying to get him to try something new, pureed peas. She'd started out with pure bananas, and was shoveling that in so fast Skinner wondered whether it was even healthy. Then she winked at the AD and dipped the spoon into the peas, then into the bananas. She brought the spoon to his mouth and he greedily sucked off the mixture of fruit and vegetable. Then he promptly spewed it back out, hitting the AD square in the face and pebbling him with the stuff. "How did he know. . . ?" the nurse sputtered, trying to hold back a grin. "I'm so sorry." "That's quite all right," Skinner said as he removed his glasses and began cleaning them with a handkerchief he'd drawn from his side pocket. He stared balefully down at his new tie and shook his head. Some of the mixture had hit him on the lip and he couldn't help but grimace as he got an unwanted taste of what she'd been trying to feed the child. "I'd say stick with the bananas, Nurse," he said dryly. "'Nanas," the boy repeated after him, then began to laugh uproariously, banging his tiny fists on the high chair's tray. "'Sick 'nanas!" Skinner laughed right back at him. "That's right, kid," he chuckled. "Stick with the bananas!" "Well, if you're both gonna gang up on me, you can finish feeding him," Nurse Jenner laughed as she got up from her chair and handed the little spoon to Skinner. The Assistant Director's face registered his panic. "No! I don't-- I don't know how to. . ." "You're an intelligent man, Mr. Skinner," she said as she strolled away. "You'll figure it out." The boy watched her go for about two seconds, then turned to the AD in anticipation. "'Sick 'nanas, sick 'nanas," he said gleefully. Skinner exhaled forcefully, wishing for a moment that health care professionals recognized his authority the way federal agents did. Then he sighed loudly and dipped the spoon into the bananas. Soon he was shoveling the contents of the small jar into the child's mouth, too. He appeared insatiable when it came to this stuff. When the jar was empty, he still seemed to be hungry so the AD dipped the spoon into the peas, deciding to take a chance but prepared to duck if necessary. But when he raised the spoon to the boy's mouth, it was shut tightly, and he turned his head to the side, refusing to have anything to do with the vile stuff the AD offered. Skinner was stumped, until Nurse Jenner returned with a bottle. "Why don't you get him out of the high chair?" she said as she pulled the rocking chair away from the wall. Skinner wiped the child's mouth first, and his hands, wondering how someone who hadn't lifted a finger to feed himself had gotten food on his hands. Then he lifted the child into his arms and felt him settle into a contented position, with his head on the A.D.'s shoulder. He started to hand the boy to the nurse but she smoothly sidestepped his gesture and eased him into the rocking chair, somehow transferring the bottle into Skinner's right hand before he was even conscious of it. "Very good. I'll be back in a little while." With that, she disappeared again. Skinner was surprised by the turn of events, but the little boy settled into his lap and reached out for the milk bottle. "Ba-ba," he said as he grasped it in his hands and put the nipple to his lips. Then he sighed and leaned contentedly back against the A.D.'s chest. Skinner was surprised at how easily the child had adapted to new people and new settings. All the children he'd known at this age had been very attached to their mothers. He choked up a little when he remembered this child, this . . . clone, had never known a mother. His arm went instinctively around the small body on his lap and he looked down into two wide, hazel eyes staring curiously up at him. "There's a good boy," he murmured, caressing the back of the baby's head. "I promise you we'll find your . . . father," he said, not sure what Mulder was to this child even as he said it. He nodded his head with resolve. "We'll find him." The baby fell asleep in his lap as soon as the bottle was empty and Nurse Jenner reappeared to take him as if on cue. "There's a couple of police detectives waitin' outside," she whispered. "They said they want to ask you some more questions but I told them it had to wait until this little one fell asleep." Skinner's eyebrows rose at the way she had apparently gotten two police detectives to cool their heels, but he headed out into the nursery's waiting area and greeted the two men he'd met the week before. "What can I do for you gentlemen?" "We've come up empty so far," Sergeant Harris said cogently. "Nothing's making any sense. The fingerprints and DNA are a match for your agent, as you know. We've had no luck tracing this medal--" He held out a silver chain with a medal on it. Skinner recognized it immediately. "Where did you get this?" he asked quickly, taking it from the policeman. The two cops were surprised by his surprise. "It was in the baby carrier you found him in. Under the blankets. Do you recognize it?" Skinner took the chain into his hand. It was a replica of the Prodigal Son icon that had been in the Skinner family for generations. His own father had given it to him when he was a teenager. And he'd given it to Mulder several months ago, as a tangible sign that the young man was one of the family. He pressed his lips together, worried. "Yes. I recognize this," he said evenly. "Agent Mulder was wearing it the last time I saw it." Later that same evening The Russian Samovar Restaurant Dana Scully sat across from Skinner. She had finished a wonderful dinner of borscht and black bread, but Skinner had barely touched his own food. Now they were talking over strong Russian tea and he was fingering the medal on the table between them. "What do you think it means?" he asked her. "Is it a signal from Mulder? Did he leave this so I'd know he was the one who left the baby at my door?" "I don't know, sir," she said, shaking her head. "I can't imagine a reason why he'd do that but . . . . I also can't imagine him being away so long and not getting in touch with one of us--" She stopped, hearing her voice crack, and blinked back tears. "Damn! I keep saying I'm not going to do that." Skinner gave her a sympathetic smile, or at least as much of a smile as he could muster and laid a large hand over her small one. "I know, Dana," he said quietly. "I'm worried, too." "There's no way he'd be out of touch with us, willingly, sir," she said firmly. "So he must be hurt. Or sick. Or . . . " "We can't think that way. If Mulder dropped the baby off at my place, maybe he's just unable to surface for some reason. I--" he stopped, unable to come up with a plausible reason why the younger man couldn't make some contact, one way or another. Neither of them wanted to give voice the alternative, though. That Mulder was dead. Georgetown Medical Center 11:15 p.m. Skinner strode purposefully down the hallway toward the nursery. He knew the baby would be sleeping now but he'd gotten in the habit of dropping by each night anyway. Just to check on him. It was the least he could do for Mulder, he reasoned. The AD had accepted responsibility for the younger agent several years earlier, in a very personal way. Somehow it seemed like that commitment extended to this child, this Mulder clone. He opened the door to the baby's room and was shocked to find someone standing next to the crib. A dark figure in black clothes. The man turned, startled, then tried to barrel past the Assistant Director. Skinner grabbed his jacket as the man flew by him but the intruder shirked it off and took off for the emergency stairs. Skinner yelled for the nurse to call security as he sprinted after the stranger, banging the door to the fire stairs open and stopping long enough to hear which way the footsteps had gone. He barreled down the stairs, pulling his weapon out of his holster as he followed the intruder. He hadn't gotten a good look, but his instincts told him with near certainty who had been in the baby's room. Skinner reached the lobby level and opened the door just as a security guard tried to open it from the other side. "Did you see him?" Skinner asked anxiously. "He stuck his head out and went back in!" the man yelled. "Go wait by the elevators. Have all the elevators and exits covered immediately," Skinner shouted back at him as he headed back into the stairwell. The stranger hadn't come back up. He must have gone down to the basement level. The AD ran down another flight, praying there wasn't more than one basement level. He got to the dark basement and stopped, listening for some sound. None came and the AD proceeded cautiously. In one part of his brain he was wishing he'd been carrying a flashlight but the bulk of his attention was focused like a laser on finding the intruder. The light from the emergency exit signs was minimal and Skinner let his eyes adjust a bit more, holding his breath and praying he'd find what he was looking for. In another minute, though, his quarry revealed himself on purpose. "I'm over here, old man," Alex Krycek said, leaning against a wall in a dead end hallway. He'd obviously realized he had no escape from his current position and had decided to try to finesse the situation. "Krycek." Skinner spat out. "What the hell are you doing here?" "That's the thanks I get? For bringing him to you? I'll remember that, next time I risk my own life to--" "You left the baby at my door? Why?" "A misguided sense of morality, I guess," Krycek laughed dryly. "They were planning to do further experiments on him." "The consortium? I thought they were almost all dead," Skinner responded. Krycek was someone he didn't trust as far as he could throw, so he wanted real answers. Answers he could check and double-check. "No such luck," Krycek snorted. "Many of them died at that site. But not everyone was gathering at the same place. And not all had arrived as yet. They still have some scientists. And the aliens. . . . " He paused, watching Skinner's reaction in the dim light. "That's who they got the technology from, of course." "To clone Mulder," Skinner nodded. "So where's the real Mulder?" Krycek blinked, then began to laugh. A deep, belly laugh that mocked the Assistant Director and belied the treacherous position he found himself in. A position that grew more dangerous when the AD grabbed him by the throat and slammed him back into the wall. "What's so funny, Alex?" he ground out, applying enough pressure to the young man's throat to let him know he meant business. "And what brought you here tonight?" Krycek tried to maintain a level of bravado but the lack of oxygen he was receiving made that difficult. He sputtered and choked. "I-- I, I'll tell you!" he managed to spit out before the AD cut back on the pressure on his throat, enough for him to speak freely. "I came because I had to bring this," he said as he began to reach for into a pocket on the front of his shirt. Skinner stopped him and patted down the pocket area, feeling something small and cylindrical inside. He reached in and pulled it out. It was some kind of container. "It's a medicine," Krycek told him. "He's going to need it. The aging is a side-effect they didn't anticipate. Or thought they'd eliminated. But it turns out the human DNA wants to bounce back to its normal state. And that's what's happening with the rapid aging. It's trying to get him back to his real age." "Krycek, I don't know much about cloning but that's not--" "That's what I'm telling you!" Krycek blurted out. "That's not a clone. That's Fox Mulder! The aliens have a way to reverse aging. Or stall it. Or accelerate it. It's something they can do to themselves, that's what makes space travel easy for them. And they've been trying to do it to the humans they've got. Mulder's the first really successful project, though. The first one to survive the return all the way to infancy!" Skinner registered the shock of that statement with a slackening of his jaw and a lessening of the pressure in his hold on Krycek. But the younger man didn't take advantage of the situation. He seemed to want to tell the other man what he knew. "H-how. . . " Skinner stuttered. "How can that . . . be?" "I can't begin to understand how," Krycek told him quietly. "I just know they've been trying to do this and failed with every test subject. Somehow they thought Mulder might be the exception. Something about tests done on him when he was a kid. About him being the best potential subject they ever tested. And so they took him, now that they thought they had it right. And he survived and appeared to be flourishing. So they were going to take him, to wherever the hell they're from. I--" he stopped, pressing his lips together. "But there's something wrong with the process anyway and Mulder started to age again, quickly. They have an antidote, of sorts. That's it, the syringe in the tube. It'll slow the process again, not to normal, but enough to keep the rapid aging from killing him." Skinner's head was swimming with the overload of this information and it's import. The baby wasn't a clone. It was actually Mulder. "Jesus Christ," he muttered, trying to wrap his mind around the implications. Then the rest of Krycek's words sank in. "What do you mean, 'killing him?'" "The aging continues to become more rapid, until the body can't take it. The growth rate taxes the body and causes immense pain. Eventually the pain is so great the body just gives out." Skinner eyed the cylinder in his hand. "And this will stop that?" "It will slow it down. For a while. And then it will begin to speed up again. I don't know how long it works for. And that's only one dose." Skinner thought this story through as quickly as he could, in his almost numb state. He could hear sirens in the background now, outside the hospital. This story of Krycek's was barely believable but if it was true. . . . If it was true, and that was a big if in the A.D.'s mind, Krycek might be the only link they had to getting more of whatever the hell the antidote was. He considered the possibility that Krycek had made all this up, on the spot, to try to talk his way out of capture. Skinner knew Alex was a prodigious liar, capable of spinning a yarn that sounded more plausible than the truth. But he didn't think he could pull this off at a moment's notice. And he did have whatever was in the cylinder. "If I have this analyzed and it's not what you say. . . ." Skinner began, only to be cut off by Krycek. "You can't have it analyzed. No one will know what it is. And you need every last gram for Mulder. I don't know when I'll be able to get more--" Skinner forced him back tightly against the wall and resumed the pressure on his throat. "You better get more," he snarled. "If what you're telling me is true, and he'll die without it, I expect you to find a way to get it when he needs it. Got that, Alex?" "You're not exactly in a position to be making demands," Krycek choked out as the A.D.'s arm continued to press hard against his neck. "They used you to draw him out, didn't they?" Skinner demanded, suddenly understanding Krycek's full role in Mulder's predicament. He pressed harder against the young man's throat, beginning to cut off his oxygen again. "Didn't they?" "Y-yes! I- I had no choice," he rasped, before the Assistant Director lessened the pressure again, just enough to let him breathe. "If he dies," Skinner said ominously, "I'll hunt you down and kill you. Before you kill me, I'll kill you. Believe me, you don't want to test my resolve on this, Krycek." The AD could hear shouts in the background now, coming down the fire stairs. He gave Krycek one more meaningful look, then released the pressure and waved him toward the exit. "I'll distract them while you slip out. And Alex. . . I'll expect to see you again when it's time." Hospital Cafeteria Georgetown Medical Center "What?" Dana Scully exclaimed. "Krycek told you that? And you believed him?" "I know, I know, Scully," Skinner responded calmly. "I've been going over it and over it myself. But I can't come up with any reason why he'd know so much about this situation, or show up at the hospital with this. . . " He picked the silver cylinder up from the table in front of him and handed it to her. "Unless he was telling the truth. If they wanted . . . Mulder killed, why go to all this trouble?" Scully looked at him with barely concealed shock. "You mean, you think that baby really is Mulder?" Skinner leaned back in his chair and fingered the Styrofoam cup of coffee in front of him. Like Scully's cup, it was growing cold untouched. "I don't know," he answered truthfully. "But again, why would he come here and lie about it? Why risk being caught, or possibly killed? Why bring the ba-- . . . Mulder to me?" Scully knew they were both having trouble getting their minds around the idea that the sleeping toddler in a room upstairs in the pediatric unit was actually her partner, Fox Mulder. In fact, Scully couldn't get hers to accept the idea at all. "Well, if that's Mulder, and he's been . . . 'reversed' as Krycek said, there'll be hard evidence," she said definitively. "And I know exactly what to look for." With that, she rose and stalked out of the cafeteria, leaving Skinner watching her, wide-eyed. *********************************************************************** Room 712-W Pediatric Floor 4:01 a.m. Dana Scully sat next to the crib and stared at the sleeping child. She heard the door behind her open and close gently and then footsteps approached. Without looking up, she whispered, "It's Mulder, sir." Skinner reached into the crib and adjusted the blanket on the small form sleeping peacefully there. The child sigh in his sleep and the AD lightly brushed the back of his head before withdrawing his hand. "Are you sure?" "He has a healed fracture in his shoulder, precisely where I shot Mulder. He also has healed scars on his head. One right in the center of his forehead, where Mulder let that quack drill into his skull. And again on the right side, where the bullet grazed him last summer and they did a craniotomy to relieve the pressure. There are several other identifiable old traumas as well, exactly where Mulder would have . . . " Her voice trailed off and broke suddenly, and Skinner laid a hand on her shoulder. She closed her eyes and willed back the surge of emotion that threatened to capsize her tenuous hold on her equilibrium. "I want to analyze whatever's in that cylinder, before we give it to him," she concluded, her voice resuming its normal strength. Skinner shook his head, not certain why he believed everything Krycek told him. "Krycek said we're going to need every drop of it for him, when it's time," he said quietly. "And did he say when that would be?" Scully asked, still clearly unable to trust Krycek's word about anything. "No, he doesn't know when. But he says we'll know when it happens," Skinner told her. "I'll hold onto it until then, Scully. It'll be our secret. I'm not telling anyone else. And, I think we have to get him out of this hospital, before someone else tries to get him." She nodded, looking up at him. "What do you propose, sir?" "I don't know, Scully," he answered, a hint of a smile crossing his face as he looked directly at her for the first time. "I guess we'll just have to improvise." ********************************************************************* Walter Skinner's Apartment Crystal City, Virginia The next afternoon The apartment looked like a whirlwind had hit it. There was a playpen set up in the living room and the floor was strewn with toys, small sneakers, and an empty bottle. Skinner and Scully had checked Fox out of the hospital first thing in the morning, then gone on a shopping spree, trying to determine everything they'd need for the child for the next week or two. They'd called a furniture rental company and ordered what Scully thought would be required for the short-term, for immediate delivery. The AD had requested a week of vacation, and had told only his assistant and the Director himself the real story. He wasn't certain what to expect over the long term, but for now, they were going to take this one day at a time. A freshly diapered child who looked about 15 months old came careening out of the extra bedroom, followed by the AD "Dana!" the child cried, then stopped on a dime, looking around for Scully, a puzzled expression on his small face. "Where go Dana?" Skinner scooped him up from behind, laughing. "I dunno, pal," he said. "Let's look for her. You've always been good at that, looking for missing people. . . ." They crept slowly into the kitchen, where Scully had been listening to their conversation and was laughing silently. "There Dana!" the little boy cried, then burst out giggling. "We find Dana! We find Dana!" "Yes, you found me," she laughed, patting him on the top of his head. She had not grown as easily affectionate with this child as Skinner had. It was still hard for her to comprehend this baby was her partner, her friend, her . . . . She shook her head, stumped by the fact that the AD seemed to be coping better with this shocking reality than she was, despite her years on the X-files. "He's speaking well," she said to the AD. "It's amazing how fast . . . " "Yes, it is," the AD agreed as he watched the small boy toddle toward a kitchen cabinet, open it, and begin removing pots and pans. In a moment he was happily banging away. "I just wonder how long until . . . . he needs whatever's in that cylinder." Scully pressed her lips together. That was still a sore point between them. She couldn't understand Skinner's faith in Krycek when it came to that. And she wanted to analyze the substance, before they gave it to the child. The Assistant Director knew she was not in agreement with his decision. But he couldn't explain to her why he trusted Krycek on this point. That if he wanted to, Krycek could just put Skinner out of action with the touch of a button. Why wouldn't Krycek just be done with it, if he'd wanted the baby dead. Or Skinner. This elaborate manipulation was just too unnecessary to be anything other than the truth, of that he was certain. However far outside the bounds of possibility the truth was. The doorman buzzed at that moment and Skinner answered and told him to send whoever it was up. "Furniture's here," he said succinctly. They'd decided that Scully would spend her time working with the medical team they'd selected to research what had happened to Mulder, and what they could do about it, if anything. To minimize the impact on him. Or reverse the process he'd been put through and bring him back to his normal age. Scully and the Lone Gunmen had helped identify the best people in the field of aging and genetics and the FBI was pulling every string necessary to get them all on board. That left Skinner to baby-sit and, although he was not at all sure he knew what to do with a child this age, Scully thought he'd been adapting admirably so far. Neither of them had yet told their families about the situation. It was a conversation that had to be conducted in person, they both believed. And Skinner had not even contemplated how he would break this news to Mulder's mother. He already knew that, if they couldn't reverse the process, soon, the child belonged with her. It was the only answer that made sense. But in the meantime, the baby required an extensive amount of supplies and equipment, just to spend some time at the Crystal City apartment. He shook his head as he watched the delivery people move it all into the spare bedroom. The younger agent had always left turmoil in his wake when he was here. Sneakers and running clothes everywhere, CD's and videos and books in piles around the living room and the spare bedroom. But the cyclone that swirled around Baby Fox made that look positively tame. "Me help," the boy told the movers as they struggled to move a changing table and baby dresser into the bedroom. Skinner had already pushed the full-size bed and dresser all the way to the other side of the room, to make way for this, the crib and a rocking chair. He and Scully had carried back as much as they could from Toys R Us earlier in the day so he now owned an umbrella stroller, a high chair and a car seat. Not to mention a ton of diapers and clothes to fit a 12-month old, 18-month-old and 24-month-old. They'd finished their shopping by taking the clerk's suggestions about some books, toys, and videos. The movers were struggling to move the furniture around the small boy and the AD reached over and plucked him out of harm's way. "NO!" he cried, "me help! Me help!" The boy squirmed mightily against Skinner's larger, stronger presence. Skinner was stunned by the volume that could come out of the little body, and by the strength of will he demonstrated. "You're Mulder, all right," he said, throwing the little boy over his head to distract him. In a moment, the child was laughing gleefully and had forgotten his pique about not being able to help move furniture. Scully took over supervising the delivery, then they all made up the crib and put the clothes away in the drawers. "It's astonishing how much stuff you need to take care of a kid this age, even if it's just temporary, Scully," Skinner said, surveying his apartment and hardly recognizing it. They both nodded, each having the same thought independently. "Let's hope it's temporary, sir," Scully sighed. She picked up her jacket from a chair in the foyer and began to get ready to leave. "You're going?" Skinner exclaimed, a note of what Scully could only interpret as panic rising in his voice. "Yes, sir," she replied, trying to refrain from smiling. "I set up a planning meeting with two of the researchers at Johns Hopkins tonight. I want to get started on . . . this problem right away." Skinner nodded his agreement, but it was a tentative gesture. He knew she was right about starting the medical research. And he knew there was no one in the world he'd put in charge of this project other than Scully. Her love for Mulder, her persistence and her keen intellect were critical attributes to assuring its success. But . . . he was also terrified at the prospect of having to cope, alone, with his part of the job. "Sir, you're doing fine," Scully told him, laying a hand on a muscled forearms crossed tightly over his chest. "You even managed to change a diaper--" "I called my sister-in-law from the bedroom," he blurted suddenly. "I told her I was watching someone's child and--" Scully laughed. "Well, you still managed to get it done! And you know how to get him fed and get him to sleep. What else is there?" She patted his arm and turned to go. "You'll do fine, sir. I have complete faith in you." ********************************************************************** Later that evening "You faith was sorely misplaced," Skinner told the absent Agent Scully as he attempted to get a screaming baby Fox to let him rinse the shampoo out of his hair. The little boy was trying to climb out of the bathtub and, in his wet, slippery state, Skinner was having the devil of a time trying to hold him, let alone finish the bath. Finally, the AD decided to give up. He pulled a warm, dry towel off the rack and wrapped the child in it, lifting him straight up out of the tub and onto the bath mat. Skinner continued to make soothing, undecipherable sounds throughout, trying to calm the nearly hysterical baby. He used one end of the towel to dry his face and head, then picked him up and carried him into the spare bedroom. "All right," he told the child exasperatedly. "Everyone in Northern Virginia has heard your opinion of my parenting skills. We can move on now." The baby's crying had already begun to subside but the A.D.'s words seemed to catch his attention and he stopped suddenly and looked up at Skinner with a quizzical expression on his face. "Don't tell me you're actually going to do as I say, Mulder. I mean, Fox," Skinner said, looking straight at the boy and beginning to smile. "This is a first." The little boy watched him, wide-eyed, for another second, then he broke into gales of laughter, as if Skinner had just told him the funniest joke. "Well you certainly give new meaning to the term 'mood swings,' don't you, kid?" the AD asked. In response, the boy continued laughing riotously. Skinner opened a drawer and took out a fresh, disposable diaper and a one-piece cotton stretchie thing his mother always referred to as a 'onesie.' "All right, let's get you ready for bed," he said, giving the child a grin and receiving a big smile in return. "Another first. You, happy about bedtime!" Without major incident, he got the child dressed and took him into the kitchen where he heated a bottle of milk as the boy toddled around the kitchen touching everything he could reach. Skinner tried to stay a step ahead of him, clearing all the safety risks and vowing to 'baby-proof' the apartment before the child woke in the morning. Finally, he took his small charge back into the bedroom and settled into the rocking chair. He picked up a book from the pile he and Scully had bought earlier in the day and began to read. Fox laid his head back on Skinner's chest and, in a couple of minutes, his eyes began to flutter then closed and the bottle slipped out of his mouth. "That's it," Skinner said softly, lifting him and laying him in the crib. "I knew I was boring but that's gotta be a record." He shut the light and stopped at the door before closing it. Glancing backward, he was immediately struck by the sight, all the adult furniture pushed to one side of the room, all the baby stuff on the other. The child in the crib was sweet and adorable, most of the time, but Skinner found himself wishing the adult Mulder was here, to help them resolve this problem. He choked up for the first time since this crisis began, wondering if he'd ever again see the young man he'd come to think of as a beloved younger brother, or a surrogate son. He was not a man who was comfortable with tears, his own or anyone else's. But this time, he let them come freely, embracing the sense of loss even as it was replaced by a firm belief that they would find a way to get Mulder back. Somehow. Some day.