The Danville Series
by Cadillac Red


Headquarters
Washington, D.C.
4:11 p.m.

A man in a dark blue suit scowled as he nearly tripped over the small 
figure entering the Hoover building through the revolving door from 
Pennsylvania Avenue. The little boy looked no more than six years old. 
What the hell was he doing there? Annoyed, the man side-stepped the 
youngster and continued out.

The child wandered, wide-eyed, into the security station that kept 
visitors from merely walking into and around the headquarters of the 
world's most elite law enforcement agency. Wide-eyed, he chewed on his 
lower lip and looked a little unsure about how to proceed.

"Hi, there, kid," an older man in the uniform of a security guard 
greeted him. "Who are you here with?"

The boy chewed on his lip for another few seconds, then finally spoke. 
"I want to see my Dad," he said tentatively. "He works here. I think 
he's in charge."

"He is?" the security guard laughed good-naturedly, flashing the 
younger guard at the metal detector a knowing smile. "And what's your 
name, young man?"

The little boy blinked, suddenly remembering something he'd been told. 
"I'm-- I'm not s'posed to talk to strangers," he said. He glanced 
warily from one guard to the other.

They both laughed now. "Well, we're not strangers. We work for your 
Dad, right?" the older one said. "But if we don't know your name, we 
don't know who to say is here. And we need your Dad's name, too."

The little boy nodded his head thoughtfully, as though he were 
agreeing with their analysis of the situation. "His name's . . . Dad," 
he said, frowning slightly. 

Now the younger one laughed again. "Well that's helpful," he said as 
he watched a couple pass through the metal detectors. "And what, pray 
tell, is your name?"

The child knew he was being laughed at, and he drew himself up in a 
way that was just noticeable. "My name's Fox," the boy said 
succinctly.

Both security guards' eyes snapped to the child now. "Fox?" the 
younger one whispered, sotto voce. "He must be Agent Mulder's kid!"

"Isn't he on assignment somewhere? I'm sure I heard that a few weeks 
ago," the older man said quietly, getting off his stool and going to 
the phone. "I'll call his number while you check the log. See if he 
signed in today."

**********************************************************************

Three hours earlier
The Colonial Mall

Casey Barton held Fox by the hand as they made their way through the 
crowded plaza to Sneaker City. The little boy was outgrowing shoes at 
a wild pace, and Skinner had asked her to pick him up another pair 
today. But it was a hot, humid day in Virginia, and it appeared 
everyone and their brother thought the air conditioned mall was the 
place to be. 

Besides the real shoppers and the locals looking for a place to stay 
cool, it was chock full of kids bused over from a local day camp to 
see a movie. Casey held Fox's hand tightly and admonished him to stay 
by her. Soon they found a pair of sneakers whose rubber soles lit up 
when he walked. She suspected Skinner would raise at least one eyebrow 
at the cost, but Fox's eyes lit up when he saw them, so she went ahead 
and bought them anyway. She'd explain it was a good safety feature.

"Can we go see "Star Wars," Casey?" the boy asked her, eyeing the 
crowd outside the shoe store. There were a couple of hundred kids 
lined up to see it, and she could see he was salivating for the chance 
to do so, too.

"Oh, I wish we could Fox. But we have to be getting back. Your Dad 
will be home early tonight. And Yoda needs a walk soon."

The child agreed reluctantly, then waited for her to pay for the 
purchase. While he was waiting, he went over to the mall entrance and 
stood, watching the line of people milling about waiting to be let 
into the theater. A toy rattle skidded past him, thrown by a baby in a 
carriage in the line. Fox ran over and picked it up, then walked into 
the crowd to give it back. The woman with the carriage thanked him 
profusely, then asked him to stay with the carriage while she ran to 
the water fountain to rinse it off. 

"Fox!" Casey called, as she realized the child was not standing by the 
door. In a panic, she circled the store, going up and down the aisles 
trying to find him. "Fox? Where are you?"

She quickly told the store manager what had happened and the manager 
continued searching inside, while she ran outside. The mall was jammed 
and there were hundreds of people in every direction. Where would he 
have gone? She ran first to the toy store a few doors down. Fox had 
stopped to look in the window on the way to the shoe store. Fox saw 
her and called to her from across the plaza, but she didn't hear him 
above the din from the crowd. And he would not leave his little charge 
until her mother reappeared.

The lady returned to the carriage and thanked him again for his 
assistance. "Are you going to see the movie, too?" she asked. "Where's 
your Mommy or Daddy?"

"My Dad's at work," the boy said matter-of-factly. "And my Mommy's in 
Connecticut." He smiled and headed in the direction Casey had gone. "I 
have to go find Casey now."

He walked down the mall, looking in each of the stores. He passed the 
kitchenware place, and the clothing store, then the toy store. He 
didn't see her, so he kept on going. Next came the bookstore and the 
food court. Everywhere he went, the mall was crowded and he decided to 
walk down to the lower level. If it was less crowded there, it might 
be easier to find Casey.

After a few more minutes, though, he hadn't found her, and he decided 
to go home on his own. After all, Casey had been right about Yoda. He 
would want a walk soon. Fox remembered how they'd gotten there, by the 
Metro. He and Casey had taken it before. He would just go home and 
wait for her there.

*********************************************************************

Two hours earlier
FBI Headquarters

"Assistant Director," Kim said hurriedly, breaking in on the weekly 
department head's meeting. When Skinner saw the look on her face, he 
excused himself immediately and stepped out.

"Casey's on the phone, sir. She needs to speak with you right away."

He took the phone, his heart beating wildly with the thought that 
something had happened to the boy. "What's wrong, Casey?" he asked 
anxiously. When she told him Fox was missing, all his premonitions 
were confirmed. She'd already contacted the local police, and they 
were conducting a store by store search and scouring the neighborhood 
around the mall.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Skinner," the girl sobbed. "I don't know what 
happened. He was right there by the door, and then he was gone." 

"It's all right, Casey," he told her, letting his mind run through the 
missing child protocol as he continued to reassure her. "I lost him at 
the supermarket last weekend. He's a wanderer. But they'll find him. 
How far could he have gone?" He told her he'd be there in 20 minutes, 
then grabbed his suit jacket and ran out, telling the agents gathered 
around the conference table that he had a family emergency.

*********************************************************************

90 Minutes Earlier
Washington, D.C.

At the age of six, Fox didn't have as good a sense of direction as he 
apparently thought. He'd used his allowance money to purchase a ticket 
at the automated machine just like he saw Casey do for both of them. 
But before long he'd stayed on the Metro too long and was in the heart 
of the District of Columbia. He exited the train at the Foggy Bottom 
station, thinking it must be somewhere near home because he'd been on 
the train a while. But when he got up to street level, he knew he was 
wrong. This looked more like where his Dad worked. A moment of panic 
set in, but he thought the situation through quickly. He'd just have 
to change plans. He'd go find his Dad instead.

And so the child began walking, asking people how to find 'the FBI.' 
More than one stranger thought it was immensely odd that this small 
child was asking for directions to the FBI building, but one after the 
other, they pointed him in the right direction. It took a long time 
and a lot of walking, but eventually he was on Pennsylvania Avenue and 
C Street, on the Park side. 

"Are you lost, son?" a kind, older woman asked him as he sat on a park 
bench, close to tears. He'd been walking a long time, all day it 
seemed. And he still didn't find his Dad. Or home.

"Yes," he said, nodding and blinking back tears. "I'm looking for my 
Dad. He works at the FBI."

"He does? Well, that's just a couple of blocks from here. I'll walk 
you right over," she said, doing exactly that. She left him at the 
front door, shaking her head at the craziness of the world today. Who 
would leave a child that age to find his way around Washington, D.C.?

**********************************************************************

Office of the X-Files
FBI Headquarters
4:15 p.m.

"Agent Scully?" the older security guard asked as soon as she 
answered. "I'm looking for Agent Mulder. Is he there?"

Scully was taken aback by the question. Mulder hadn't been in the 
building in weeks, and the cover story, that he was on a long-term 
special assignment, was considered gospel now. 

"No, he's not here. He's on an assignment," she answered, curious as 
to why he was asking for Mulder. "Perhaps I can help."

"Well. . . " he answered, clearly stumped as to what to do. "It's just 
that there's a little boy here asking for him. His son, I think. I 
didn't know Agent Mulder had any kids. Do you know where we can reach 
him? . . . Hello? Agent Scully?"

Before he hung the phone up, Scully was in the lobby. "Dana!" Fox 
yelled, seeing her approach from the stairs at the other end of the 
building. 

"Fox, what are you doing here?" she asked him, glancing at the two 
guards a little nervously. "How did you get here?"

"I got lost," he answered, recovered from the tears and fears of a few 
minutes earlier. "And I found my way here, all by myself. Where's my 
Dad?"

Scully looked anxiously at the two guards. They obviously thought this 
was Mulder's child. She didn't want to confuse things by having them 
connect the boy to Skinner. That would start tongues wagging all over 
the Hoover building. So she told the guards she'd take responsibility 
for the child and took his hand, ushering him toward the stairs to the 
basement.

When they were inside the office, she shut the door and turned to him. 
"You got lost? And you came here by yourself. From where?"

"Casey and me were at the mall," he said. "Buying new sneakers. See?" 
He walked a few steps so she could see how the soles lit up when he 
stepped down.

"That's great, Fox. But where is . . . your . . . father? Does he know 
you're here?" When the boy shook his head, she immediately picked up 
the phone and called the Assistant Director's office. Reaching Kim, 
she heard the story of the missing child. She reassured Kim and hung 
up, hitting the speed dial number for Skinner's cell phone as fast as 
she could.

"Skinner" he answered before the first ring was through.

"Sir? It's Scully. And I have Fox."

"You have him? Where?"

"Here. At the office. He found his way here alone, apparently."

"What? How the hell. . . ?" He exhaled forcefully. "Is he all right, 
Scully?"

"Yes, sir, he's fine. He says he was looking for Casey. Or you."

"Tell him I'll be there to get him as soon as I can. I can't wait to 
hear this story," he said, and Scully was sure she detected a little 
of the old Skinner, preparing to give Mulder a good piece of his mind. 
She glanced at the little boy and found herself hoping the AD she'd 
seen in recent weeks was the one who came through that door. For Fox's 
sake. She gave him a tentative smile.

"My Dad's office is bigger," he said as he looked around. "But this 
one is cooler. You have lots of good stuff."

"Well, this office . . . isn't exactly mine," she said. "It belongs to 
someone else I work with. Most of this stuff is his."

The boy nodded, in the way Mulder characteristically nodded when he 
was absorbing information and details. He looked at the poster on the 
wall. "I want to be-- be-lieve," he read out loud. Then he turned to 
her, wide-eyed. "Is that a real flying saucer? Or a fake one?"

Scully couldn't help laughing. "I'm not sure, Fox," she said. "I 
really am not sure any more!" She gave him the rest of the tour, then 
he told her he needed to go to the bathroom and she took him to the 
ladies room on the first floor. He insisted he wanted to use the men's 
room, but she was more insistent. "You already ditched Casey," she 
said. "You're not pulling it on me!"

They returned to the office and she settled him down at the desk and 
got him some paper and magic markers so he could draw.

She took her customary seat across the office and watched him make 
himself comfortable at the desk out of the corner of her eye. He 
managed to get on his knees and still balance that infernal chair 
while he did it. >>It must be a Mulder gift,>> she thought.

Scully had a report on further analysis of the serum they'd been 
giving him that she'd been preparing to study before this 
interruption. She tried to read, but every now and then she'd glance 
up at the somewhat familiar dark head, bent over whatever he was 
working on. A lump formed in her throat. She hadn't seen the child in 
a while now. He was growing so fast. And becoming more like Mulder 
every day.

A moment later, the office door banged opened. It was dim in the 
office and the light in the hall was bright, silhouetting the tall, 
imposing figure of the Assistant Director in the doorframe.

"Uh-oh," the child said from across the office.

"You got that right, pal," Skinner answered, striding into the room 
and lifting the boy out of the chair. He enveloped him in a huge hug 
and let out a sigh of relief Scully could almost feel from her perch 
across from them. "Thank God you're all right."

"I made a picture, see?," the boy said, obviously trying to impress 
Skinner with his artwork. And Scully thought he was also attempting to 
deflect whatever flak might be coming. It was an old Mulder strategy 
with which she was very familiar.

"Well, that's very nice, Fox," Skinner said, finally putting him back 
down on the chair and bringing the conversation right back to the 
matter at hand. "How did you get lost?"

"I wasn't lost," the boy protested. "I knew where I was the whole 
time!"

"You did," Skinner said incredulously, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah! I was . . . I was right there where I was, the whole time,!" 
Fox said, frowning at his inability to explain it the way he 
apparently understood it. "Casey was lost."

Skinner and Scully both laughed at the same moment. This was Mulder at 
his most egocentric. He knew where he was, but he couldn't find Casey. 
Ergo, she was lost, not him. 

"We should go find her," Fox added. "She might be scared. She might 
cry. . . "

"She did cry, Fox," Skinner said. "She was very scared that she lost 
you. Can you imagine how bad she would feel if that happened?

The child dropped his eyes, apparently understanding that he had done 
something to make her feel bad. And feeling awful about it. "I’m 
sorry," he said. "Is Casey mad at me?"

"Well, we'll have to see about that," Skinner said, holding out his 
hand and waiting for the boy to take it. "She went home to walk Yoda 
once she knew you were okay. Let's go."

The child nodded. "Am I in trouble?" he asked tentatively.

"Yes, I think it would be fair to say you're in trouble, young man," 
Skinner said lightly. "All kinds of things could have happened to you, 
wandering around the city all by yourself. We can talk about it on the 
way home. Say good-bye to Dana."

Scully smiled sympathetically at the boy. He picked up the paper from 
the desk and walked over to her. 

"I made you a picture, Dana," he said, beginning to sniffle a little. 
She and Skinner exchanged a look that bespoke their mutual 
understanding that he was bidding for sympathy. The child held out his 
creation. It was his version of the poster on the wall, a flying 
saucer. But this one had a door, and some happy little aliens were 
waving from in front of their ship. He'd printed the words "I WANT TO 
BELIEVE," exactly the way they appeared on the poster.

"You draw and write very well, Fox," Scully said, choking back a wave 
of emotion. "I hope you'll come visit me again some time. If it's okay 
with your Dad."

The boy nodded and impulsively hugged her around the waist, clearly 
startling her with the affectionate gesture. "Okay," he said. "I'll 
ask him. When I'm not in trouble."

She glanced up at Skinner in amusement and saw he was smiling too.

"Well, I hope you'll see her more often than that, Fox," he said, 
giving Scully a glance. She could see the twinkle in his eye from 
across the dim room. "We're talking about you, after all. And that 
would be a rather limiting requirement!"

He called the boy over and they left, wishing Scully good-bye. Skinner 
went out of his way to thank her for her help. She'd been so distant 
lately, and he'd been searching for a way to end the estrangement that 
had grown between them over Fox's situation. He left, hoping this 
would be a turning point.

Scully watched the door close behind them and her eyes fell to the 
picture in her hand. She looked at it moment, then she took two 
push-pins out of a holder on the desk and hung it on the wall, to the 
side of the poster. She stepped back and looked at it, suddenly 
overcome with conflicting emotions. Tears sprang to her eyes and she 
fought them back with every shred of self-discipline she could muster. 

>>Stop it, Dana,<< she told herself, >>think about something else. 
Anything else.<< 

She focused all her attention away from her missing partner, but, 
strangely, the charming little boy who'd just been there wouldn't 
disappear so quickly. Suddenly her head popped up and she found 
herself staring at the door, across an empty office.

"Yoda?" she said out loud. "Oh, brother."

Crystal City, Virginia
Wednesday afternoon

"Why can't we go to the playground, Casey?" Fox whined for the 
umpteenth time as he and Casey walked Yoda on the street across from 
the park. Skinner had forbidden the child to play in the park today, 
to teach him a lesson about wandering without telling anyone where he 
was going. He'd done it at the park the week before and at the grocery 
store last weekend. Then two days ago, he'd nearly given them both 
heart failure when he took the Metro into the District on his own. But 
it was now 8 hours into that sentence and Casey swore she'd heard this 
question in every variation all day long. 

"We don't have to tell my Dad," Fox added. "Please?"

Casey stopped dead on the street and gave him a solemn look. She was 
holding his hand and he was holding the dog's leash. The puppy pulled 
for a moment, then wandered back to see why they'd stopped. Yoda sat 
down and looked from one of them to the other.

"Fox, what would it be if we did that?" Casey asked him quietly.

"Smart?" He gave her his most hopeful look.

The young woman fought to keep a smile from crossing her face. He was 
a fascinating child, not just because of his situation, but because of 
how his mind worked. "No, Fox," she answered in a firm tone. "That 
would be dishonest. And disobedient."

The boy lowered his eyes and began to chew on his lower lip. He sensed 
from her words, and her cadence, that she was disappointed in his 
answer. And she'd been very upset when he got lost. "I'm sorry, 
Casey," he said, his head still hanging. "I didn't mean to make you 
mad again."

Casey squatted down next to him and pulled him into a hug. He let 
himself be enfolded in her arms, and hugged her back with the one arm 
that wasn't attached to Yoda's leash. 

There was an innate sweetness about the child. The AD had helped him 
write Casey a letter of apology for scaring her the other day when he 
wandered off. It had been meticulously copied in Fox's less than sure 
hand and accompanied by a bunch of daisies they'd bought from the 
flower shop down the street. But the big, wet kiss the boy delivered 
them with was all she'd really needed to melt her heart.

"I'm not mad, Fox. And I wasn't mad the other day when you got lost. I 
know you didn't do it on purpose. But you have to learn to listen 
better. Or something could happen to you. And then I'd be very sad. 
And a little mad, too!" She chuckled and gave him a squeeze. "Your Dad 
feels the same way. That's why he said no park for you, until he's 
sure you understand about staying by us. And that's why you have to 
show you get it, right?" Beside, she thought ruefully, she would not 
be able to take another day of being "the enforcer" and she planned to 
tell that to the AD when he returned tonight.

The little boy nodded and they began to walk back to the apartment 
building. "But I just want to play on the swings," he said. "That's 
not really IN the park. It's a little on the side. . . "

"Fox! We are not having this discussion again!" Casey said, her face 
betraying a mixture of amusement and exasperation. "And the swings ARE 
in the park. They're just outside the gate of the playground area. You 
really know how to split a hair, don't you?"

They passed through the lobby of the Crystal City high-rise a moment 
later, waving to the doorman as they headed toward the open elevator. 
Fox was dragging his heels as though the world had collapsed around 
him. "Your grandparents should be here soon," Casey said, trying to 
focus him on other things. "I bet they'll be surprised to see how well 
you're reading." 

Fox's age was now estimated to be somewhere between six and seven, but 
he was reading at a fourth grade level, and he absorbed information 
like a sponge. The team overseeing his development was hard pressed to 
provide educational materials at a fast enough pace, and Casey was 
finding she had to work to keep up with the child's ravenous mind. He 
had also grown almost two inches in the past two weeks.

They exited on the 17th floor and Casey began digging in her bag for 
the key to the apartment while Fox and Yoda wrestled on the floor 
beside her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw two UPS delivery men 
coming from the hall in the direction of the service elevator and she 
idly wondered why a pair of them would be there.

Suddenly one of the men grabbed Fox, lifting him off his feet. The 
other pulled a gun from behind his back and aimed it right at Casey's 
face.

"What are you--" she blurted and the man smacked her across the face. 
Fox gasped audibly and began struggling against the other man, his 
feet waving frantically in mid-air. The man grasped him securely 
around the waist with one hand, then slammed his other hand over the 
boy's mouth.

"Shut up," the man with the gun ground out. "Any more noise and I'll 
have to kill you. And that's not in the plan, pretty lady. Open the 
door."

Casey's eyes were wide with horror and her hands were shaking. She 
dropped the keys and reached down to get them. Yoda lunged for them 
first, thinking it was a game and she patted him on the head as she 
picked them up. "G-good boy," she said nervously.

"Hurry up!" the one holding Fox whispered angrily. He glanced toward 
the elevator.

"It's the middle of the day," the first one told him. "No one other 
than these two ever comes and goes around her during the work day."

Casey finally got the door open and the gunman pushed her inside and 
followed her in. The other man carried the struggling child inside, 
his hand clamped hard over Fox's mouth. They pushed the dog back into 
the hallway and he laid down and began to whine. 

"Let's hurry it up," the second guy said. "Get her tied up. And you 
hold still!" he said to the boy, giving him a hard shake.

The first one pulled some rope and duct tape out of his pocket, along 
with a hypodermic needle. "He needs to be sedated," he told the second 
man. "Might as well do that now--"

"Hello?" a voice called from the hall as the front door opened. It had 
been left slightly ajar and Yoda rushed in immediately. Walter 
Skinner, Sr. appeared in the doorway behind him. He was immediately 
alert to the strangeness of the situation. "What the hell's going on 
here?"

"Gran!" the boy yelled, pulling himself free from the goon who'd been 
holding him. The man had loosened his grip as he reached to take the 
hypodermic and then released him unwittingly when the dog lunged for 
him. Fox ran to his grandfather and Mr. Skinner pushed him out into 
the hallway, yelling to his wife to get the boy out of there. Rachel's 
face telegraphed her shock, but she grabbed the child and ran. 

Walter, Sr. slammed the door closed as the second man threw a punch at 
him. The older man deflected it as best he could and stumbled back. 
Then he regained his balance and gave his assailant a gut punch that 
left the intruder on his knees, gasping for breath. At that moment 
Casey squirmed free from the gunman. She ran toward Mr. Skinner. Her 
captor aimed his gun at Mr. Skinner but the dog tripped him up and the 
shot went wide of its mark, hitting Casey in the back. She screamed in 
shock and crumpled to the floor.

"Oh, shit!" the man said, panic underscoring his words. He stared at 
her for a split second, as a pool of blood quickly formed beside her. 
Walter, Sr. rushed to her side, dropping to his knees and feeling her 
neck for a pulse. The gunman looked around wildly, then seemed to make 
a decision. He ran past Mr. Skinner and the girl and grabbed his 
partner by the arm. "Let's get the fuck out of here."

They fled out the door in the opposite direction of the elevator. Mr. 
Skinner made a fast assessment of the girl's condition, then got up 
and ran to the phone to call '911.'

**********************************************************************

Johns Hopkins Medical Center
Two hours later

They were all gathered in the surgical waiting room, waiting for news. 
Skinner, his parents and Fox. Casey Barton's mother, Dr. Claire 
Barton. Dana Scully. The emergency room physician had told them the 
bullet entered the young woman's upper back and lodged in her chest, 
having hit a rib. The prognosis was good, but she'd lost a good deal 
of blood.

The little boy was finally sleeping on the couch next to Skinner, his 
head resting on the A.D.'s leg, one hand wrapped around the older 
man's thigh. He'd been subdued before he fell asleep and Skinner was 
afraid he was in shock. 

"I don't know if Fox should be here," he said to his mother suddenly. 
"If something doesn't go right--"

"Honey, he's already been through a terrifying experience today. He 
needs all of us with him. I could take him somewhere, but you're not 
leaving here until you know Casey's all right. And from the look of 
it, we'd have to pry him off you to get him out of here."

The Assistant Director nodded. He knew she was probably right. But his 
mind was racing with fear, for Casey, and for the child asleep beside 
him. The need for security precautions for Fox had ratcheted up 
significantly today, when the Consortium, or someone, showed their 
hand. They wanted him back. And Skinner would die before he'd let that 
happen.

A man in blue scrubs appeared at the door to the waiting room and 
asked for Casey Barton's family. Claire Barton got up immediately and 
went to him. From her body language, it was clear Casey was all right. 
The girl's mother had been stoic in her behavior up to now but the 
news made her let down her guard, and she began to cry softly.

Skinner eased himself out from under Fox's head and went to her side. 
"She's all right," Claire said, allowing herself to breathe deeply for 
the first time in several hours. "He said she'll have to recuperate 
for six or eight weeks, but she'll be fine. Good as new."

The Assistant Director gave her a grateful smile and let out a sigh of 
relief. "Thank God," he said. "I'm so sorry, Claire. If she hadn't 
been with Fox--"

"No! Don't say that. You couldn't have known someone would try to 
kidnap him!"

"Well, we know now," he said gravely. "And I'll make other 
arrangements for him. But I'm sorry it happened, Claire And I want to 
help, with Casey's medical bills, physical therapy, whatever she 
needs."

Claire Barton protested that it wasn't necessary and Skinner continued 
to insist. They left the matter unresolved and finally the Skinners, 
and Scully left. Skinner put the sleeping boy on his shoulder and 
headed out to the car, his mind racing with the need to make other 
arrangements for Fox, fast.

********************************************************************

A day later
Nantucket, Massachusetts

"This was a great idea, Walter," Rachel Skinner told him as they sat 
on the deck behind Chuck Talbot's house, enjoying a glass of iced tea. 
From where they were, they had a wonderful view of the bay and the sun 
was just beginning to set over a calm, blue ocean. Walter, Sr. and Fox 
were perched on the dock just down from the house, fishing poles in 
the water, with Yoda parked protectively at the boy's side. They'd 
promised to catch dinner for everyone, although Fox had whispered to 
Skinner as he left, reminding him he didn't like fish. It had been an 
eventful twenty-four hours.

"Chuck's staying at my place in Breckenridge," her son replied. 
"There's too much activity here over the summer months for him to get 
any writing done. And he promised his publisher he'd deliver the final 
draft of his book by September. So he offered to trade places. I 
planned to come up for a couple of weeks at the end of August. We'll 
just make it a longer stay now, that's all."

His parents had offered to stay for as long as they were needed. And 
he'd already contacted Joe and Andy and Jean, and asked them up for as 
long as they could get away for. It was a big house and the Skinner 
family would provide a lot of protection for Fox just by their 
presence. He'd also arranged for guards to be discreetly posted at 
both ends of the property, 24 hours a day. And he'd briefed the local 
police on the fact that someone had tried to kidnap the child. They 
offered a special patrol stop on an hourly basis, to check in with the 
guards and look for any unusual activity. 

The situation also presented an opportunity, Skinner realized, now 
that they were there. Fox Mulder had grown up across the bay on 
Martha's Vineyard. This was as close as Skinner could get to 
duplicating that experience for him. The two islands offered similar 
lifestyles and rhythms. They both had small year-round populations 
that swelled during the summer months. The Mulders had actually 
escaped to the Rhode Island shore during the summers but this would 
have to do. The fact that it was an island, only reachable by ferry or 
plane, made it a more secure location in and of itself.

And watching Fox, imitating every move Walter, Sr. made as he baited 
his hook and cast his line into the water, brought a lump to the 
A.D.'s throat. The city was not a place to raise a child and the boy 
needed more contact with his family. The near-kidnapping, and Casey 
getting hurt, had been high prices to pay for him to understand that. 
Fox had had terrifying nightmares the night before, and had come to 
sleep with Skinner finally, something he hadn't done in weeks except 
when he was sick. The AD had been kicking himself since yesterday for 
not recognizing the risks earlier.

Skinner suspected the experience had traumatized the boy and he 
resolved again to do everything he could to provide a safe, secure 
childhood, one that was carefree and fun, and filled with loving, 
normal experiences. This time around, he wanted Mulder to come away 
with the a sense of belonging, and the kind of childhood memories 
Skinner could claim. It was the least he could do for the man he'd 
come to think of as another brother, or the son he'd never had. 

Skinner felt a rush of something swell in his chest at that moment, as 
a he sat watching the old man and the little boy pull a fish out of 
the water. He knew suddenly, and with complete certainty, that he 
couldn't love Fox any more if the boy carried his name, or his genes. 
Fox was his son, period. And Skinner realized in a flash of emotion 
that nearly knocked him flat, that life without the child would be 
unthinkable.

"Dad! Daddy!" Skinner was drawn from his reverie by shouts coming from 
the little boy as he ran up from the pier and onto the wood deck 
behind the house. "Daddy! Look! I caught a fish!"

Skinner caught him as he came barreling across the deck, pulling him 
into his arms. "Yes, I see. Look at the size of that fish!" He turned 
Fox around and let him hold it up for Rachel to see as Walter, Sr. 
climbed the three steps to the deck, lugging the poles and tackle, the 
smile on his face stretching from ear to ear.

"What are we going to name him?" Fox asked, his forehead furrowing as 
he gave the problem some thought.

"Name him?" Skinner chuckled. "I thought it was supposed to be 
supper."

"Supper?" the boy laughed, giving him a sideways look. "That's a 
really dumb name!"

The Talbot House Nantucket, Massachusetts

Walter Skinner walked into Fox's bedroom, picking up clothes that had 
been strewn in the 7-year-old's wake, and found him poring over a map. 
Skinner was taking the boy to Martha's Vineyard in the morning, by 
speedboat, and he'd shown Fox the route they would take earlier in the 
evening. 

"We're going all the way over here on the boat?" Fox asked again. 

"Yes, all the way over there," Skinner answered as he threw the dirty 
clothes into the hamper. "Only it's not that far. It'll take us about 
a half hour or so. Put the map away now. It's time for bed, Fox."

The child was excited to be going on a boat trip with Skinner, though, 
and he had trouble settling down. While the AD tried to get him in 
bed, he kept coming up with more questions. "What are we going there 
for?"

"Well, Martha's Vineyard is a good place to visit, that's all," 
Skinner replied. He'd been told not to prompt Fox too much before this 
trip, to let things happen naturally. It appeared the developmental 
specialists were having a field day studying the boy. "They have 
beaches and houses, and places to eat."

"Do they have ice cream?"

"Yes, I'm sure they have ice cream!" Skinner found himself smiling. 
Now they were getting to what was important to Fox.

"What's it called again? Where we're going?"

"Martha's Vineyard. And before you ask, a vineyard is a place where 
grapes grow. Now enough questions till tomorrow! Go to sleep," he told 
the child, tucking him in tightly and giving him a kiss on the 
forehead. Skinner left the door open a crack so the hall light would 
provide a little illumination, and headed down the stairs to the main 
floor.

"He's very excited about going out on the boat, isn't he?" Rachel 
Skinner asked as she put a cup of coffee in front of her son. Next she 
cut two slices of lemon pound cake, one for him and one for her 
husband.

"I could hardly get him to bed. I'd like to think he's got some 
interest in going to Martha's Vineyard, that he has some deep memory 
of the place. But I really do think it's the boat trip that's got his 
interest piqued," Walter said, sighing.

"Well, maybe when he sees familiar places, memories will start coming 
back," his father said. "That might be all he needs to start 
triggering his old memories."

The AD nodded and took a sip of coffee. "I had hoped his mother would 
come up for a few days and go with us. But she thinks it would be too 
emotional for her. So she gave me a list of landmarks. Places they 
lived. Where Fox went to school. He hasn't recalled his mother's house 
in Greenwich when we've visited, but she didn't move there until Fox 
was in college. I'm hoping that seeing things from when he was this 
age will do it."

**********************************************************************

The next morning
Martha's Vineyard, Massachusetts

They tied the boat up at the dock in Menemsha, and walked over to the 
car rental place. Skinner had called the day before and had an SUV 
reserved for them. The AD picked up a good map of the island and had 
the attendant mark off the locations he was planning to visit. Then he 
helped Fox into the back of the Blazer and headed out for Chilmark. 
This was the location of the houses Mulder had lived in as a child.

Teena Mulder had told Skinner how to find both places. He headed for 
the 62 Greer Street house first, since it was where Fox lived until he 
was 5 years old. By then, with two active children, the Mulders had 
decided they needed a larger house, with an office for Bill. But this 
small, shingled home was where they'd had their first child. Skinner 
pulled the car to a stop across the street.

"Who lives here?" Fox asked immediately. 

"I don't know. Who do you think?"

The child studied the house for a minute. "I dunno. I like our house 
better."

Skinner smiled as he unbuckled his seatbelt and got out to stretch his 
legs. It had only been a few days but already Fox considered the 
sprawling Nantucket beach house home.

Chilmark was a small town at best and this house was on the outskirts 
of the town center. Most of the homes were in the surrounding area, 
which was pretty rural and wooded. Secluded even. Skinner found 
himself wondering what made the Mulders choose to live in such an out 
of the way place. He made a mental note to see where Bill and Teena 
Mulder had each grown up, when he got a chance. 

He helped Fox out of the back and they walked around the area. There 
was a church and a general store and a small, one room schoolhouse 
where Teena said he'd gone to nursery school and kindergarten. As they 
approached it, the boy grew excited and ran toward the building. 

"Look, Dad!" he yelled back over his head. "They have swings!"

It was an old-fashioned playground, probably not much different than 
the last time the boy was here, Skinner mused. But he didn't seem to 
be recalling it. He was just excited to get to a playground. They 
spent a few minutes, and Skinner pushed him on the swing until he 
began to worry the child might be going too high. Fox definitely had a 
daredevil streak that rivaled that of the adult version. 

Then the AD insisted they look in the window of the school. Teena 
Mulder had told him Fox went from nursery school through second grade 
here. Then Bill had moved them into a larger house on the outskirts of 
Chilmark, closer to West Tisbury, so Fox could go to a larger, more 
modern school.

They looked around the old building but nothing about it seemed to 
capture the child's attention so Skinner decided to check out the next 
location on the "Fox Mulder 'This Is Your Life' Tour." He put the boy 
back in the car and drove to the house where he'd spent the better 
part of his childhood.

"Whose house is this?" the boy asked as they parked outside a much 
larger, obviously more expensive home. Skinner checked the address, 
surprised at the significant step up the Mulders must have made when 
they moved here. He tried to recall what Mulder's father did for the 
State Department back in those days, at least officially. It was hard 
to believe a government salary paid for this property.

He and Fox got out of the car again, and this time the boy looked a 
little bored. "Why are we stopping?" he asked plaintively.

"I just want to look around, that's all, kid," Skinner answered, 
smiling nonchalantly, not wanting to put any pressure on the child. Or 
let him see how disappointed he was at his lack of recognition.

"Can I help you?" a woman asked from behind the picket fence 
surrounding the property. She was a gardener, apparently, and Skinner 
hadn't noticed her on her knees amid the rose bushes.

"I'm sorry," he answered quickly, and introduced himself. "We didn't 
mean to disturb you. It's just that a . . . friend of mine grew up 
here and I thought I'd take a look at the place. While I was in the 
area."

"Oh, it's nice to have visitors," she replied, smiling. "This is not 
the most widely-visited part of the island! But I've lived here for 
almost 25 years. When did your friend say he lived here?"

"Oh, that's about right, actually. I think the family moved around 
that time. Perhaps you knew them? The Mulders?"

Her face reflected her immediate recognition, and sympathy. "Oh, those 
poor people," she said with feeling. "They lost their daughter, a 
kidnapping. You must know their son?"

Skinner eyed Fox warily before returning his attention to the woman. 
The boy had looked up briefly when the name "Mulder" was mentioned, 
but now he was busy playing with a loose picket in the fence. "Yes, I 
. . . work with their son."

"They never found the daughter, did they? Such a shame. They stayed 
here a couple of years after she was kidnapped, I think. Then the son 
went to the mainland to school and they sold the place to us. We 
raised our four kids here. It's a lovely house. Would you like to come 
inside?"

The Assistant Director was surprised at her hospitality, till he 
remembered where he was. He wouldn't be surprised if his own mother 
offered to take strangers into the Skinner house when they wandered by 
in Danville. He accepted, eager to see if Fox remembered anything of 
the interior.

But the child merely sat in the kitchen, politely bored, as Mrs. 
Carlson got them both a glass of home-made lemonade. She told Skinner 
everything she could remember about the family who'd lived there 
before them, so many years ago. "I think he worked for the 
government," she said. "He was not the . . . friendliest person as I 
recall. And his wife seemed shell-shocked about her daughter when we 
were buying the house. Even though it had happened a few years 
earlier. I guess you never really get over something like that, do 
you. . . ?"

Skinner watched Fox out of the corner of his eye, looking for some 
glimmer of recognition, or interest in the tale. But none was 
forthcoming. 

"I remember the boy, your friend," Mrs. Carlson was saying now. "A 
very polite child. Quiet. He looked . . . haunted, I thought. And he 
seemed so alone. My husband and I spoke about it later, how we 
couldn't remember either of his parents even speaking to him during 
the times we were here. It was very . . . unsettling. I hope he grew 
up okay."

"Yes, he turned out fine. And he's one of the most brilliant 
investigators I've ever worked with," Skinner said, wanting to put her 
mind at ease. She was a virtual stranger to Fox Mulder, had met him 
only briefly years earlier. Yet she seemed to care about him. More 
than his own parents had, he mused.

They finished their lemonade and Skinner thanked her profusely for 
letting them come in and get a break from the heat of the day. Then he 
told Fox they were going and watched the boy's face break into a 
golden smile. "Can we have ice cream now?" he asked.

"I think lunch first, pal," the AD replied, laughing. "Then ice 
cream." He and Mrs. Carlson chuckled as the child ran past them, 
toward the front door. "What do we say to Mrs. Carlson for the 
lemonade?"

"Oh," Fox blurted, stopping for a second and turning back. "Thank you 
very much." He gave her a high wattage smile, then ran out the door to 
the car. 

"Did you and your husband change the house much, since you moved in?" 
Skinner asked Mrs. Carlson as she escorted him through the front 
garden. "It's a beautiful place."

"No, except for modernizing the kitchen and baths, we haven't touched 
the place. It was perfect, just the way it was. Our children love it 
still," she said. "Although they only get here for vacations in the 
summer now. It's a little out of the way, you know!"

"Yes, it is. I wondered about that. What does your husband do, Mrs. 
Carlson?"

"He's in charge of the Marine Biology facility at Wood's Hole," she 
said. "As a marine biologist, this was a prime place to live for his 
career. I always wondered why the Mulders lived here, though. I think 
he worked for the government. He was away in Washington a lot when we 
were negotiating over the house. But he stayed here after we moved. . 
. West Tisbury, I think. Mrs. Mulder moved away, though. I think they 
were divorced."

Skinner nodded. He knew the Mulders had separated and subsequently 
found out they'd never actually divorced for some reason. The few 
times Mulder had spoken about it, he always referred to his parents 
divorce but, according to Teena, she and Bill had never made it legal. 
Skinner hadn't been certain about the timing until he spoke to Teena 
the other day. "We sent Fox to boarding school when he was 16," she 
said. "When Bill and I separated. And I moved to Greenwich."

Mulder's parents had barely stayed together in the wake of Samantha's 
abduction and the AD found himself wondering if they'd done more 
damage to him by trying. Within a few years, he'd lost his entire 
family in a way. They scattered to different places and the boy was 
relegated to a boarding school in Rhode Island, only going to his 
mother's place in Greenwich for holidays. From what Teena said, he 
rarely returned to Martha's Vineyard to see his father once she and 
her son left. Skinner found himself wondering idly how the hell Mulder 
had grown up to be as okay as he was, given everything.

They headed to West Tisbury next, to see the elementary school that 
Fox had attended. It was a larger facility set amid a sprawling campus 
and it served about half the island. They took a walk around the 
school, and found a rear door was open. Skinner decided to take a walk 
inside with the boy, to see if anything caught his attention, or 
sparked a memory. They found the inside halls gated and inaccessible, 
except for the area around the gymnasium. There were several glass 
enclosed trophy cases and Skinner stopped to take a look.

Everything was arranged in date order and in 1974 and 1975, Fox W. 
Mulder was a member of the school's trophy-winning baseball teams. He 
was also a medal-winning swimmer and a member of the school's 
basketball team. Skinner remembered Mulder telling him he'd excelled 
in sports, as a bid for attention from his parents. It had not been a 
winning bid, apparently.

"That's my name," Fox gasped as he looked into the trophy case. "See? 
Fox Mulder!"

"Yes," Skinner said, squatting down to get to his eye-level. "You won 
a trophy for swimming. And for baseball too."

"I did?" the child asked, obviously pleased but surprised, 
nonetheless. "Where is it?"

"I don't know, pal," Skinner said, laughing. It was very clear the boy 
was not remembering this at all. It was new information to him. He 
stood and put his hand out for Fox to take it. He felt a small hand 
grasp his own and began to walk toward the exit.

Fox walked along beside him, but his head swiveled back to take 
another look. "Can I put the trophy in my room?" he asked. "When we 
find it?"

"I'm not sure anyone knows where it is now, Fox," he laughed. "But 
we'll ask your Mom the next time we speak to her, okay?" Skinner was 
continually surprised at how well the boy accepted the conflicting 
facts of his life. He was a child who had been an adult. He seemed to 
accept these wildly divergent facts easily, something Skinner could 
only ascribe to the fact he really didn't understand how impossible 
that was.

They moved on to a few other landmarks. The Regional High School where 
Mulder had gone for two years, until his parents split up and he was 
sent away to school. Teena had told him that they chose to send him to 
boarding school because he was so bright and his parents thought he'd 
have a better chance of getting into a good university if he went 
somewhere else. But Skinner suspected there was also the additional 
incentive of getting a moody, needy teenager out of their hair. He 
felt bad for thinking so little of Mulder's parents but the evidence 
was hard to overlook.

The high school brought no recollections at all and they stopped next 
in Edgartown for lunch. There was a cafe on the water where Teena said 
Fox loved to go as a child. It was still there and they got there as 
the lunch hour was dwindling so it was possible to get a table by the 
water. The children's menu included a "Land Lubber's Burger," the meal 
Teena had said was always Fox's favorite. Skinner was pleased to see 
he ordered it this time, too. At least his tastes were remaining 
consistent.

They strolled a little around the town after lunch, got some ice cream 
at Fox's insistence, then headed back to the boat. The drive up island 
was almost 45 minutes with summer traffic and it took another few 
minutes to return the rental car and get back to the boat. Skinner 
fueled up, just to be safe and, after getting the boy into his life 
jacket, and slathering him once more with sunscreen, they headed back 
to Nantucket. 

It had been a pleasant day, the AD thought, and Fox loved the 
excursion on the boat. But it was painfully clear he had no memories 
of his first childhood on Martha's Vineyard, for some reason no one 
understood. He smiled sadly at the child, who'd fallen asleep on a 
padded bench seat as soon as they left the harbor. Scully was worried 
about the fact that he still hadn't gotten any memories back and now 
Skinner was becoming concerned too. If they didn't return, who would 
he grow up to be this time around?

**********************************************************************

The Talbot House
Nantucket, Massachusetts

Fox woke as soon as they docked and raced up to the house to tell 
Rachel and Walter, Sr. about his day. They listened to him chatter as 
the elder Skinner barbecued and Rachel prepared the rest of their 
dinner. Once he'd tied the boat up for the night, Skinner joined them 
and gratefully accepted an ice-cold beer his father had waiting. Then 
they all sat down to a meal of steak, French fries and corn on the 
cob, followed by home-made peach ice cream.

In between the boy's stories about what they'd seen and done, Skinner 
managed, with head shakes and hand signals, to communicate his 
disappointment that the trip had been unproductive, that the boy had 
remembered nothing. Now, as dessert was finished, Fox seemed to be 
fading fast. 

"So you had a very busy day, young man," Walter, Sr. said. "Two boat 
trips. Lunch with your Dad. Driving all over. Seeing all of those 
places. I guess you're tuckered out now, huh?"

To all of their surprise, Fox nodded. "But we never found her," he 
said sadly. "We looked and looked, but we never found her."

The attention of all three adults snapped to the boy. Was this the 
breakthrough, at last? Was he finally remembering details from his 
life?

"Who, Fox?" Skinner asked gently, not wanting to break his train of 
thought.

The boy looked at him quizzically. "Martha," he said. "We never found 
her. Or her grapes. Did we, Dad?"

Surfside Beach Nantucket, Massachusetts

Fox, Brian and Haley were on their knees, building a sandcastle that 
would rival the architecture of any mythical medieval kingdom. The 
evening before, Joe and Andy Skinner had put their heads together to 
help the children design their entry for the upcoming Nantucket 
Sandcastles contest. Then they'd come down to the beach early today to 
do the planning and show the kids how to create walls, towers and 
turrets using wet sand and various household tools. Now the adults sat 
on blankets and in folding chairs farther up the beach from the water, 
watching the kids finish their creation.

"The tide's coming in, Joe," Walter said ominously. "Are you sure 
they're not building on real estate that will be flooded out any 
minute?"

"Andy and I came down and watched it all during high tide last night," 
Joe said firmly. "The tide'll come in just far enough to fill the 
moat--"

"The moat?" Skinner laughed. "Sometimes I wonder if either one of you 
ever actually grew up!"

"I resent that," Joe laughed. "I'm quite certain I grew up. Andy . . . 
well, that's another story. . . !"

"I heard that," Andy Skinner retorted from behind them, shaking the 
water off his boogy board in just the right way as to make certain it 
sprayed his brothers. "The water's great. The waves are a little rough 
right now, what with the tide coming in though and that storm that 
blew through last night. Good thing the kids are occupied with that 
building project."

He flopped down on the blanket next to his oldest brother. "I guess it 
was pretty smart of me and Joe to think of something to distract them, 
huh, Walter?" He waggled his eyebrows at Skinner, trying to needle him 
into admitting his younger brothers had the upper hand when it came to 
handling kids. "It's a better much better plan than searching for 
Martha . . . and her grapes. . . ."

It had only been a few days, but that story had already worked its way 
into the Skinner family lore, along with dozens of others about the 
funny things the Skinner kids and grandkids had done or said over the 
years.

"You are absolutely right, Andy," Skinner replied easily, taking three 
cold sodas out of the cooler beside him and passing two along to his 
brothers. "There's no substitute for thinking like a six and an eight 
year old, when it comes to these thing-- Hey!" He reeled back as he 
was sprayed with cold soda from two separate fronts.

Skinner emerged from the ocean a few minutes later after taking a dip 
to wash off the sticky remains of two cokes. It was refreshing, but 
Andy was right that the ocean was rough today. He walked over to Fox 
and Brian and Haley. "That's looking pretty cool, guys," he said 
appreciatively. "Where'd you get those little flags for the turrets?"

"Gram made them for us," Fox answered excitedly. "From toothpicks and 
paper."

"I put them in," Haley added, and Skinner picked her up and gave her a 
hug. 

"You did that very well, Haley," he told the little girl. "You'll all 
be more than ready for the sandcastle building contest next weekend. 
I'd like to see anyone beat this."

"We're gonna fill the moat soon," Fox said as he continued to carve 
the wet sand into a channel around the structure. He was biting his 
lip with concentration. "Then we're gonna glue ice cream sticks 
together, to make a bridge to go over the moat."

Skinner's eyebrows rose at this information. He'd seen the plans Joe 
and Andy had concocted with the boys the night before. That little 
feature was not one he remembered. He realized the enhancement was 
something Fox must have thought up. 

The child was around eight years old now, they reckoned. All his 
academic testing results were way ahead of his chronological years. 
Yet, in other ways he was a typical eight year old boy. It was 
endlessly fascinating, if not for the worry over how he'd grow, and 
whether they'd get the next doses of the medicine he needed in time. 
Skinner shook off that concern immediately. What choice was there? He 
finished admiring the children's handiwork and headed back to where 
the adults in the family were located.

It was growing windy about half an hour later when Haley wandered up 
to the blanket, followed by Brian. "We hafta make a bridge for the 
moat," Brian told Joe and Andy. They'd already heard about that 
innovation from their brother and they promised to help the kids do it 
tomorrow. They'd build the sand castle once more before the weekend 
contest, just to be certain the kids had it down cold. 

Eileen and Nora had been packing up to leave and now Eileen began 
toweling the sand off her two kids. Joe's three teenagers, Mike, Kathy 
and Amanda had found friends among the neighbor's kids as soon as they 
arrived and had not been seen all day. Mrs. Skinner had chosen to stay 
behind at the house with baby Griffin and Mr. Skinner so there was no 
question dinner would be underway by the time they got there. All in 
all, it had been a perfect summer beach day.

"Where's Fox?" Skinner asked suddenly. Joe had just realized that the 
child was not with the others and had begun scanning the beach area 
near the sandcastle. Andy asked Brian if he knew where Fox had gone 
and the little boy shook his head, wide-eyed with anxiety. "He was 
with me and Haley, before," he said quickly.

Walter and Joe loped down the beach toward the area where the kids had 
been playing while Andy instructed Brian and Haley to stay with their 
mother before following. The three men quickly developed a plan. Two 
of them would head in either direction and the other would--

Suddenly they could hear shouts up the beach, in the direction the 
tide was flowing. The three men bolted in that direction, afraid what 
they might find.

"There's a kid out there!" a man on the beach was yelling. "Way out 
there! Can you see him?" Other people had gathered and were scanning 
the horizon, trying to get a look. 

"Oh my God! There is a kid out there!" a woman shouted. "Someone find 
a lifeguard!"

The three Skinner men came to a stop at the edge of the crowd. "Is it 
Fox?" Joe asked anxiously. "Can you see?"

Skinner shook his head. He couldn't see well enough for his eyes to 
confirm it. But his gut told him it was Fox. He pulled his tee shirt 
off over his head and discarded it as he ran into the water, with Andy 
and Joe a few steps behind him. They swam like demons were at their 
heels, the choppy water and incoming tide fighting them every foot of 
the distance. 

"Daddy!" Skinner heard the boy shout when he was still a couple of 
hundred yards away. His voice was edged with panic and it sounded like 
he was swallowing water.

"Hang on, Fox," he yelled back, realizing the child had a boogie board 
with him. That was all that was keeping him afloat in the rough water. 
And that was what had pulled him so far along with the current as 
well.

He put his head down and swam as hard as his muscles would work 
against the tide and in another minute, his arms grasped the child. 

"Dad!" the boy cried fearfully as muscled arms pulled him close. "I 
couldn't get back to the beach! I tried and tried--"

"I know, pal," the AD said, "It's okay now. I'm here." He gave him 
another squeeze as Joe and Andy arrived. Both men patted the boy's wet 
hair and Joe leaned over and kissed the top of his head. "Thank God," 
was all he said.

Skinner swung Fox onto his back and instructed him to hold on to his 
neck, then they all began the long swim back to the beach. The 
incoming tide pushed them further up the beach as it carried them to 
shore. They'd have a long walk back to the area where they'd started 
out but they could live with that. At least the boy was okay. 

When they got close to shore, two lifeguards swam out to greet them. 
They escorted them into shore and the older one, who was twenty-two if 
he was a day, admonished the AD to keep a better eye on his child. 

"These waters are rough, sir," the young man told him in complete 
seriousness. "You can't let kids this age go swimming alone."

Skinner merely nodded in response. The lifeguard was just doing his 
job, he knew. And he did not want to get into an argument on a point 
on which he was clearly on less than firm moral ground. He hadn't let 
the child go swimming alone, but he had taken his eyes off Fox, for a 
few minutes. And that was all it took. 

The ride home was more than a little tense, though. Joe and Andy had 
chosen to ride along with the AD and Fox, sending Nora, Eileen and the 
other kids home first in the other car. They'd thought to save Fox the 
embarrassment of having the other kids there when he was reprimanded 
for going in the water alone, without permission. But the boy's story 
convinced Walter to give him a free ride on this one.

"I told you not to go in the water," Skinner had told him firmly as 
soon as the others left.

"I just wanted to wash the sand off," Fox protested. "Like you Dad. 
When you washed the soda off you."

Joe and Andy exchanged an amused glance at this little white lie. He'd 
taken a boogie board. To wash the sand off? They waited for the AD to 
pounce on the obvious ploy.

But Skinner didn't key on that element at all. "Didn't you hear us all 
say the water was too rough for you kids to go out alone?" he 
responded. "That's why we went with you earlier, Fox--"

"But I'm a good swimmer, Dad. I won trophies. You saw. . . " He looked 
up at Skinner with tears in his eyes and the AD found himself 
relenting. The two of them had seen Mulder's old swimming trophies on 
their visit to Martha's Vineyard. This whole thing had to be 
incredibly confusing for the child. Hell, it was confusing for Skinner 
and he was an adult!

"Okay, Fox, I know you thought you could handle it," he said, pulling 
the boy into a hug and vowing to himself to be more vigilant in 
keeping an eye on him. "But now you know for next time, right? You 
can't go in the water without an adult."

Andy and Joe had watched this conversation with shock. Andy opened his 
mouth to say something and immediately received an elbow to his 
midsection from Joe. Walter saw the interplay out of the corner of his 
eye but he chose to ignore it. He already had enough on his hands with 
Fox. Whatever was going on with his brothers could wait. They loaded 
the car up and Skinner took Fox over to the outdoor shower to wash the 
sand off the both of them before they got in the car. 

They returned to the jeep and his brothers in a few minutes, with Fox 
licking an ice cream cone. They all got in and Andy chose to sit in 
back with Fox.

"Ice cream right before dinner," he said to the boy, loud enough for 
neither of the front seat occupants to miss. "You're a lucky kid, 
Fox."

"Yeah," the boy happily agreed, oblivious to the undercurrent bouncing 
among the three men.

Skinner felt a bolt of tension rise and go right to his jawline. He 
had been so relieved and happy that Fox was okay, he hadn't given his 
ice cream request a second thought before pulling out his wallet. They 
would be having dinner in less than an hour and Fox would likely not 
eat anything now. <Good one, Walt!> 

But he was damned if he was gonna let on to Andy that he'd missed that 
one. He'd already had a lifeguard who probably wasn't shaving yet 
admonish him about letting Fox swim alone! He was not prepared to give 
Andy and Joe the satisfaction of knowing he was a complete screw-up as 
a parent.

They arrived home and Fox immediately opened the back door and 
scampered into the house, eager to tell everyone about his adventure. 
Skinner watched him go in silence, then he opened his own door, got 
out and slammed it shut, stalking off toward the beach behind the 
house to be alone. Joe sighed and got out of the jeep, then waited for 
Andy to do the same.

"Well that was bright," he said to his younger brother. "Now he's got 
his back up against the wall, for who knows how long." 

"Don't tell me you weren't thinking the same thing, Joe," Andy replied 
immediately.

"I don't feel compelled to say everything that pops into my mind," his 
brother retorted. He shook his head and headed into the house.

"Hey," Andy called after him. "Who's gonna unload the jeep?"

"You are, Mighty Mouth," his brother answered without even looking 
back.

**********************************************************************

The Talbot House
The next morning

Sixteen-year-old Kathy and her fourteen-year-old sister, Amanda, had 
taken the three little ones down to the dock to fish while the adults 
had a leisurely breakfast. The AD had not slept well and had gotten up 
and taken a long walk on the beach in the middle of the night. Then 
Fox had gotten him up at 6 a.m., as usual. He poured himself another 
cup of coffee and wished he could get an IV hook-up of caffeine this 
morning. He and Joe and Andy had not spoken a word more than the 
"G'morning's" they'd exchanged first thing. 

"Well, what's everyone up to today?" Rachel asked, trying to ascertain 
what was going on with her family. All her instincts told her 
something was wrong.

There was an awkward moment of silence, then Nora jumped into the 
breach. "I was thinking about a bike ride with the kids," she said 
brightly. "We have enough bicycles for everyone. We could ride up to 
Children's Beach and spend a little time there. There's a small 
amusement park. Then we can have lunch and ride back."

"Sounds like a plan," Eileen laughed, trying to help lighten the mood. 
"I need to get some exercise anyway. You've been cooking too many good 
meals, Mom." She gave her mother-in-law a wink.

"Well, I don't know if your Mom and I are up to a bike ride, but we 
can drive over and meet you there for a swim and lunch," Walter, Sr. 
added. "That way we can bring the lunch, and Griffin, with us. Save 
you all that carrying!"

They quickly arranged the schedule and set about making preparations. 
Four-year-old Haley would ride in a seat on the back of her father's 
bike. Both Brian and Fox would ride their own bicycles, and they were 
excited to be going on such a long trek. Skinner pulled his 
sister-in-law Nora aside, told her he had several phone calls to make 
to the office and begged off, promising to accompany his parents if he 
freed up in time for lunch.

"Where's Walt?" Joe asked as they were all getting ready to go.

Nora told him about the calls to the office as succinctly as possible. 
She and Joe had spoken about the situation the night before and she 
knew the underlying tension and its origin. But long years of being 
part of the family had taught her that the Skinner brothers handled 
these kinds of things best among themselves, without outside 
interference. She saw Joe and Andy exchange a look that carried 
multiple meanings and sighed as she pushed off to follow behind Eileen 
and the kids. 

"Looks like you did it again," Joe said as he glided past Andy and 
overtook the others.

"Me?" Andy Muttered, pulling up the rear with Haley behind him. "Why 
is this my fault?"

"Daddy did it again," Haley clapped merrily from her perch in back. 
She had no idea what he'd done, but she was glad he'd done it all the 
same.

**********************************************************************

Later that evening
The Talbot House

Everyone was exhausted from the day and the family decided to have a 
quiet meal on the deck. There were hamburgers and hot dogs for the 
kids. And since the AD had not managed to finish his calls by the time 
his folks left, he'd spent the afternoon fishing alone so there was 
grilled fish for the adults. The long bike ride had tired the children 
out, and Eileen and Nora were not far behind. Rachel took a turn 
getting the children to bed while her daughters-in-law soaked in the 
hot tub and by 9 o'clock, only the Skinner men were left awake. 

Actually, that was an exaggeration. Andy was conked out on a lounge 
chair on the deck and Joe was fighting hard to keep from joining him 
in slumber, attempting to follow his father's conversation but failing 
miserably. Walter could be seen down on the dock, hosing down the boat 
he'd taken out for a few hours in the afternoon.

"So what exactly is up with you three?" Walter, Sr. said suddenly. 

"What do you mean, Dad?" Joe asked innocently.

His father gave him a solemn glare. "Don't give me that, Joseph 
Dmitri," he said evenly. "I'm not blind, deaf, or senile."

"Sorry, Dad," Joe apologized immediately, and gave his father the 
highlights version of the story. When he finished, his father nodded.

"I see," he said quietly.

"Dad, it's just something that'll pass. Nothing to worry about. You 
know Walter. He holes up like a bear in winter but then it's over and 
he's his old self. And Andy can be damn annoying at times--"

"I heard that," the subject of that last sentence spoke up. 

"Well as long as you're awake," his father said, grinning. "Go to bed. 
Both of you."

Neither man felt like arguing with him, or being a party to whatever 
would pass between their father and his namesake. They said good night 
and trundled off.

"Where is everybody?" the AD asked a few minutes later as he settled 
into a lounge chair next to his father. The sky was black and starlit, 
and there was a warm breeze blowing off the water. He sighed, trying 
to push back the feeling of anxiety he'd been carrying all day.

"They all went to bed," Mr. Skinner said. He leaned back and closed 
his eyes. "It was a long day. Not that you participated."

Skinner had a lifetime of dealing with his father, and the elder 
Skinner was one of the most direct people he'd ever known. And he 
tolerated nothing less from his sons. "I . . . needed to think," he 
said quietly. 

"About Fox?" his father asked.

"Yeah, and me. And his situation. It's . . . hard, Dad. Hard to know 
how to handle things," he found himself admitting. "It was easy a few 
weeks ago. When he was 2, or 3, or 4. The problems weren't so big. And 
my choices didn't seem so significant. Now . . . I don't know. I 
honestly don't know what to do most of the time."

"Why, Walter?" his father asked. "He's a child, maybe 7 or 8 years 
old. You know what's right. You're just overthinking the situation--"

"No, I don't think so, Dad. He's a child, but he's been an adult. He 
had a lousy childhood the first time and this time, I can make that up 
to him. And there isn't a whole lot of time to do it in. He's passed 
through 8 years in about 10 weeks, maybe a little more. Every little 
thing takes on more significance. . . ."

"And you want to make sure it's perfect this time, is that it? His 
childhood?" the older man asked. "But you can't do that, no one can. 
No parent can ever provide a perfect life. And the really important 
things, love and values and discipline, all have to work together. You 
know that. But you're leaving out one important element. And I don't 
think that's fair to Fox. Or you."

Skinner shook his head, unconvinced by his father's words. "Dad, as an 
adult, Mulder required . . . more discipline than most adults. He 
needed someone to reel him in, keep him from stepping too far outside 
the boundaries. His father disciplined him plenty, from what he told 
me but it didn't help him develop real self-discipline--"

"No, from what I understand, Fox's father lashed out at him, in anger. 
That's a far cry from loving discipline, son. You know that. Fox told 
me he never knew what to expect from his father. Anger, indifference, 
silence, they were weapons he had to defend against and he never knew 
which one was coming."

"I know," Skinner sighed. "I've heard a lot from him over the years. 
But, Dad, he's a very bright, very verbal kid. And he responds well to 
reasoning and talking. Some people raise their kids without ever 
spanking them. And maybe that approach will teach him to have more 
self-discipline, that's all I'm saying. This time I'd like him to have 
the kind of memories I have of growing up."

Mr. Skinner chuckled. "And you have no memories of being spanked? When 
did you develop this case of amnesia?"

Skinner laughed despite himself. "I didn't say that."

His father exhaled forcefully, trying to organize his thoughts into 
the right words. "Son, I hear what you're saying. And I would love to 
agree with you, but I just can't. Because I think your reasoning's 
faulty. I'm not sure kids who don't experience discipline, delivered 
with unconditional love and acceptance, ever develop self-discipline. 
But certainly not boys as bright and headstrong as Fox. He will keep 
testing you, and testing the boundaries, until he understands there's 
a price to be paid for stepping out of line."

He sat up and swung his legs to the side of the lounge, then leaned 
forward toward his son. "Think about it, Walter. Yesterday he nearly 
drowned. Today he rode his bike out into traffic, despite being warned 
repeatedly to stay in line with the rest of the family--"

"What? No one told me--"

"Well, you weren't around much for anyone to tell you anything," his 
father said simply. "And you weren't exactly open to hearing anything 
from Joe or Andy either."

Skinner's eyes darkened at his father's words, and he found himself 
staring, unseeing, at the star speckled water in the bay.

"I'm just telling it the way I see it," Walter, Sr. said quietly. "And 
if you want Fox to grow up to have happy memories of this childhood, I 
think you have to start with something even more basic. That we want 
him to grow up, period. And with his daredevil streak, that's gonna be 
chore in itself."

"I know," Skinner breathed. "With the uncertainty of his condition, 
and whether we get more serum when he needs it, that's gonna be a 
miracle."

Now Mr. Skinner knew they were getting to the heart of the problem. He 
listened, not wanting to say the wrong thing, but his son just stared, 
unblinking, into the night. Finally, he knew he had to push a little 
harder.

"And that scares you, doesn't it?" he said. "Because he might not make 
it. And if that's how it goes, you don't want him to have one bad 
memory, of one bad moment."

Skinner nodded, unable to answer.

"Because when Jeremy died, he was angry at you. And you were angry at 
him," his father finished the thought. 

Tears stung the A.D.'s eyes and he let the wave of remorse roll over 
him, knowing he couldn't stop it now if he tried. "And I never got a 
chance to tell him. . . . He never knew that I wasn't really mad at 
him . . . that I loved--"

"Yes, he did," his father said with conviction. "He couldn't have 
doubted it for a minute, Walter." He reached over and pulled his son 
into an embrace. Skinner gave up trying to fight the swell of emotions 
that engulfed him and the two men stayed there, together, for what 
seemed like an eternity, but was probably no more than a few minutes. 

"Jeremy loved you, Walter, more than I could ever describe. You were 
his hero. In his eyes, you could do no wrong," Mr. Skinner told him as 
he began to calm down. "Just like Fox. Now and before. But your 
responsibility to Fox is to be more than his friend. He can have lots 
of friends. He has no other parent, though, not really. And whatever 
happens, that's the role you have to play. I'm sorry if it's not the 
one you wanted, but . . . them's the breaks, kid!"

The AD snorted, despite his best effort. "God, Dad, that's really . . 
. profound," he said, laughing.

Mr. Skinner smiled and got up, heading into the kitchen. He let his 
son have a moment to collect himself before he returned with a bottle 
of chilled vodka and two shot glasses. They'd gotten over the hump, he 
thought. Now they could focus on developing a plan. Fox was his 
grandson and no grandson of his was going to grow up without 
understanding the expectations of a Skinner. . . . and what happened 
when they were ignored. He poured two glasses and handed one to the 
AD, who clinked his glass against his father's then swallowed down the 
shot, letting the liquid burn its way down his throat.

Skinner sighed exhaustedly and leaned back in the lounge chair. "When 
does it get easier, Dad? At what age?"

"I'll have to get back to you on that one," his father said, settling 
back himself. "But I'm hoping it starts to ease up some time around 
fifty."