The Danville Series by Cadillac Red Disclaimer: The characters of Fox Mulder and Walter Skinner do not belong to me; they belong to Chris Carter and Fox. I mean no harm and will make no money from their use. Spoilers: None. Setting: Somewhere in the fourth season. Rating: PG. Some discipline, no slash. Title: The Good, the Bad & the Ugly Author: Cadillac Red Summary: A weekend at the beach for Mulder and Skinner veers wildly from good times to bad luck and ugly scenes. The Good, the Bad & the Ugly FBI Headquarters Washington, DC Special Agent Fox Mulder loped casually down the empty hallway and into Assistant Director Walter Skinner's outer office. He was preoccupied with thoughts about a case and didn't take note of the empty hallways. At the outer office, he was surprised to see the A.D.'s assistant Kim not at her desk; in fact, she was obviously gone for the night. He glance quickly at his watch and was startled to see it was almost 7:15 p.m. But the A.D.'s light was on and his door was partly open so Mulder knocked lightly and looked inside. "Sounds great to me, Chuck, I'm just checking my calendar," Skinner was saying into the phone, "Yeah, I have to be here for a meeting on Thursday morning but I can hit the road right after lunch" He listened another moment then replied to the caller, "I don't know, Chuck, I'll ask him" as Mulder knocked again. Skinner looked up and gave the younger agent a casual smile. "And speak of the devil, Chuck, guess who just showed up at my door." Skinner motioned Mulder toward a guest chair. "It's Chuck Talbot," he said. "You remember, my friend from the Corps?" Mulder nodded. The Assistant Director had dragged him off camping a while back. Chuck Talbot was an attorney in Boston that Skinner had known in Viet Nam. A really good guy, Mulder had thought at the time. All Skinner's friends were solid, 'salt of the earth' types. "Say hi for me," Mulder said to his boss as he settled into the chair. "You can say hi yourself, Mulder," Skinner said. "Chuck's got a place on the bay in Nantucket. He's invited some of the guys up for the weekend to do some water-skiing, play a little golf . . . He's inviting you, too." Walter Skinner was immensely pleased at the smile that lit the younger man's face at this news; he long suspected that Mulder yearned for a sense of belonging, somewhere, but his external facade was generally cool and aloof and personally unrevealing. Skinner hadn't actually been certain he'd enjoyed the camping trip -- until now. "Check your calendar and let me know, Mulder," he continued. "I don't have anything on for this weekend," Mudler said instantly. "I can do it -- if I can get my boss to approve the vacation time on such short notice -- he's kind of a stickler about stuff like that!" "Keep it up, Mulder," Skinner told him archly, "and you'll be walking to Nantucket." By 6 p.m. on Thursday evening, they'd made it to the New England Thruway in southern Connecticut. They'd both worked through lunch and now Skinner at least was seriously hungry -- and his stomach was letting him and his passenger know it. "I have to get something to eat," he told Mulder. "Any preferences about where?" "There's a good Italian place just off the Greenwich exit," Mulder suggested. "I've been there a couple of times with my mother when I was visiting." Skinner had forgotten Mulder' mother lived in Greenwich. He signaled his intent to change lanes, then exited the Thruway at the off ramp that Mulder pointed out. "Do you want to stop in and see your mother?" he asked Mulder. "We're making good time . . ." "No, sir," the young man answered quickly. "She doesn't like it when people drop in without notice." Mulder directed him to the parking lot of Caruso's Pizza and Pasta as he spoke. Skinner was surprised at his reply. He shook his head slightly as he pulled the jeep into an open parking space. Skinner's mother would be cut to the quick if he passed through his hometown without stopping in to see her. They got a table right away and ordered their meals. Mulder asked for an iced tea but Skinner was already in vacation mode. He ordered a glass of red wine, telling the younger agent that it was his job to drive the rest of the way. "No problem, sir," Mulder replied. "I can cover the rest of this route with my eyes closed!" Skinner opened his mouth to reply but Mulder quickly added, "Not that I intend to on this trip!" "Thank you, Mulder--" Skinner began but they were interrupted by someone calling in their direction. "Fox!" a woman's voice interjected. Mulder stood, immediately recognizing his mother's voice. Skinner stood as she approached as well. "Fox, what are you doing here?" she asked him. He leaned down and gave her his cheek. "I'm on my way to Nantucket for the weekend, Mom." He turned to Skinner. "This is Assistant Director Skinner, my boss, Mom. I don't think you two have ever met." Teena Mulder offered her hand to Skinner with a smile. "It's a pleasure," she said. Then she turned back to her son. "I just finished dinner with the girls and now we're going to a movie. . . . I'm so glad Marie noticed you over here." She turned back to Skinner. "Marie Francis is my neighbor. She's known Fox since he was in college." Mulder noticed Mrs. Francis standing in the vestibule with several other women. He gave her a smile and a wave. "Well, Fox, it was so nice seeing you," Teena Mulder continued as she started to take her leave. Her son gave her an awkward hug and they brushed cheeks again. "Yeah, I'm glad I ran into you," he said. "You're looking well . . . " "Thank you, dear," she replied. She turned to Skinner. "It was lovely meeting you." With that, she left to rejoin her friends. Mulder and Skinner finished their meal in near silence. Mulder was lost in thought and, except for answering Skinner's questions about the area, he fell into a contemplative mood. Skinner sighed quietly, vowing to try to keep Mulder's strange background in mind a little more when the younger man tested the limits of his patience--which was often! They made it to Nantucket on the 8 p.m. ferry and pulled into Chuck Talbot's driveway just before 10 o'clock. Chuck, like Skinner, was divorced and childless. Two other friends from Skinner's Marine Corp days were there for the weekend, too -- Jim Harley and his 17-year-old son Will, and Dave Pearsall and his 16-year-old, Danny. Chuck pulled two iced beer mugs out of the freezer as he directed them up the stairs to the back bedroom. "Drop your stuff and come on back," he told them, "I'm starting to pour!" Skinner's face fell when he saw the room. "You'd think I could sleep anywhere after 'Nam," he told Mulder, taking the twin bed furthest from the door. "But I always have trouble sleeping in anything smaller than a full-size bed." Mulder laughed. "Not a problem for me, sir. This is a whole lot more room than my couch!" Friday morning was clear as a bell -- blue skies, bright sunshine, 90 degrees. They had a leisurely breakfast while the two boys checked out the swimming off Talbot's dock. Then Chuck uncovered the speedboat and they spent the next four hours water-skiing on the bay. Talbot also had a couple of wave-runners and they all took a turn with them in between. Mulder was the last to get up on the water skis but as soon as he did, the others were all grateful he'd waited. The young man was pure poetry in motion on the skis -- wide graceful traverses over the top of the water, followed by short, rhythmic hops over the waves created by the speedboat's wake. The other men and the boys were more than impressed and Skinner was reminded that this was a kid who'd spent his youth in the shore communities of Martha's Vineyard and Rhode Island. When they finally picked Mulder up, Will and Danny immediately started clamoring for him to teach them everything he knew. Skinner handed him a beer as he toweled off. "That was quite a show, Mulder," he said appreciatively. Mulder shrugged and grabbed the beer. "Growing up, I spent a lot of time on the water," he said simply. But Skinner could see he was pleased at the compliment, and the attention from the boys. By 3 p.m. the older guys had had enough. They took the boat in to dock in town and let Mulder and the two boys head off on the waverunners. Mulder had gotten the hang of that quickly; he could now jump a wave like an old pro and the boys were duly impressed once again. With instructions to be back in a couple of hours, they headed off to test themselves against the bigger waves outside the inlet. At 5:30, Skinner was starting to grow a little concerned and by 6 p.m., all four men were starting to worry. At 6:15, though, they heard the two waverunners come up to the dock. Mulder and Will proceeded to tie them up and Danny came running up to the table. "We had to go to court!" he excitedly told his father. "Mulder was speeding in the channel and got stopped by the police!" "Who would have guessed the Harbor Patrol uses radar?" Mulder fumed exaggeratedly. "And on top of that, if you're from outside the area, they make you go right to court!" Skinner laughed out loud. "With everyone speeding out there, why do you think they picked on you, Mulder?" "That's exactly what I wanted to know," he replied, "so I appealed the fine. I pointed out the fact that there were multiple waverunners and boats in the channel, and radar is notoriously unreliable--" Danny cut in excitedly. "And then the judge told him to 'sit down and shut up!'" The four men were laughing uproariously now. Hands on his hips, Mulder mock glared at the 16-year-old as Will punched him in the arm. "We weren't supposed to say anything about that part," he reminded the younger boy. Danny looked chagrined at his slip-up. "Well, anyway," Mulder said, attempting to put an end to all the merriment at his expense. "I'll buy the next round-- the fine was only $50." "And a year of Department of Natural Resources probation," Danny added helpfully. Skinner had been leaning his chair back on its hind legs and he nearly fell over at this final piece of news. The AD let out a belly laugh that came right from his gut. "That may be the only federal agency that didn't already have you on probation, Mulder!" he said between gasps of laughter. Danny clasped his hand over his mouth as Mulder grabbed him around the neck and began pulling him off to the bar. "Have you ever heard the word 'secret', Danny?" he teased the boy good-naturedly as they headed off. Chuck Talbot looked at Skinner, who was still trying to recover from his fit of laughter. "That guy reminds me of that one kid in every class," he told his friend. "You know, everybody's acting up. But when the teacher turns around, there's one kid still doing it." Skinner swallowed the remainder of his beer down and nodded. "He is a magnet for trouble, that's for sure." They stayed in town and had dinner at the "Sea Shanty", then headed back to Talbot's house as the sun was setting. By 10 o'clock both boys were sound asleep and within the hour, all the adults had turned in as well. By Saturday morning, though, there was a thick cloud cover and the radio and TV were reporting on a storm system working its way up the New England coast. The water was choppy and Talbot, Skinner and the other men decided to stay on dry land for the day. They managed to get a tee time at a local golf course, reasoning that, if the storm hit as expected, it would be safer than being on the water. Mulder elected to stay with the boys; he didn't really play golf and he didn't believe it was going to rain. He jokingly mentioned several times what "wimps" they all were for their decision. "First of all, I spent half my life in this area and it's not gonna rain, that storm's gonna head back out to sea," he told them. "And second of all, what are you gonna do, melt?" The two boys joined in razzing their fathers and the other two men good-naturedly. But before the left, Dave and Jim turned serious, telling their sons to stay off the water. "You can go swimming," Jim Harley told Will, "but don't take the boat out. The ocean's too rough, today." Dave Pearsall issued a similar order to Danny. Just to be safe, Skinner wandered over to Mulder before they left for the golf course. "Here are my keys," he told the younger agent. "You can go into town later and pick up the lobsters for tonight -- that'll get you all out of the house. But don't take the boat out, okay, Mulder?" Mulder was annoyed at this aside but he tried to keep his response on the light side. "Who died and left you the boss of me?" he asked, only half-joking. Skinner chose to ignore the barb. "J. Edgar Hoover," he replied matter-of-factly. He was not a man who believed in anything paranormal but he had a first-hand experienced of precognition at that moment. "I mean it, Mulder," he said seriously. "Don't take the speedboat out . . . " He waited for a sign of agreement but Mulder offered none. "Mulder . . . " he said again, this time with an implicit warning. "Okay!" the young man finally shrugged. "I'm not deaf!" "Good," Skinner said and finally left. Within an hour after they left, the weather was clear, the clouds quickly moving out to reveal a dazzling blue sky. Mulder wished Skinner were there just so he could say "I told you so." At mid-day, he got the keys to the jeep and called both boys out of the water to go into town for lunch. "Can't we take the boat?" Will asked, with Danny chorusing in his support. "You were right, Mulder, the weather cleared right up." Mulder knew there was no reason not to take the boat now but he demurred. "No, we promised not to," he told them. He tried to maintain the appearance of support for their fathers (and Skinner's!) point of view but failed miserably. But another part of his brain weighed in with a differing opinion. He turned the situation over in his head as he waited for Will and Danny to change into dry clothes. His eyes fell on the smaller boat, a large dinghy with an outboard motor. He remembered from yesterday that there was gasoline in a container in the shed by the dock. . . . By the time the boys came out of the house, Mulder had the engine running. They both cheered his decision and they set off for town. "Listen, guys," Mulder told them over the roar of the engine. "If in years to come you ever hear me say I'm not going somewhere because it might rain, you have my permission to shoot me." Will laughed but Danny nodded seriously. "Okay," he said. Mulder chuckled and looked at Will. "And if he shoots me, you shoot him!" They had lunch and wandered around the town until the boys found a video arcade. They immediately spotted a game they knew called "Area 51" that involved trying to shoot multiple aliens before they shot you. Both boys (and the aliens!) beat the pants off the FBI agent. Mulder decided to gracefully retire to a sidewalk cafe with a newspaper and an iced cappuccino and let the two boys fight it out with each other and several alien species. He kicked back and relaxed, something he rarely did; he mused that it had been years since he'd felt so . . . good. He idly flipped through the local paper. Someone he'd gone to high school with had been named head of the school board; two kids he'd known in elementary school had just had their fourth child. He shook his head ruefully. Before he knew it, it was past 3 p.m. and when he glanced up, his blood ran cold. The cloud cover was rolling back in fast and the wind was picking up again. He gathered up the paper and tossed it away, then jogged back to the video arcade. The boys were not there and he frantically started searching the neighboring stores. A familiar fear was rising in his gut. At the next place, 'Ye Olde Ice Creame Shoppe," he found them, sitting at a table with two pretty teenage girls. His relief quickly turned to anger at their wandering off without permission and he called in the door, "Will, Danny! Let's go -- NOW!" The two boys were startled at his tone and quickly said good-bye to the girls and ran out to meet him. "What do you mean wandering off like that?" Mulder snapped at them. "I've been looking all over for you guys." They both hung their heads at his reprimand and the young agent immediately felt bad. "Sorry guys, he said, putting an arm around Danny's shoulder and cuffing Will on the back of his head. "I just got worried, that's all. The weather's turning and we haven't even picked up the lobsters yet." They hurried over to the fish place but the line was a lot longer than Mulder expected. He waited impatiently, keeping one eye on the gathering storm outside. He made a minute-by-minute assessment of the weather situation, flipping back and forth between the "go" and "stay" options. When he finally got to the head of the line, he paid quickly for their order and reached a decision. He decided they could make it back before the weather really turned. Mulder got both boys into the boat and set off. He caught a glimpse of the flags flying over the Coast Guard station and the docks -- he knew immediately the red one signaled a "small craft warning." But he was committed to this course of action now and he silently put aside any misgivings that surfaced. It was immediately rougher than he'd ever expected and he got three life vests out from under the seat. "Put these on," he instructed the boys. "Are you kidding?" Will laughed. But he shut right up when he saw the "brook no argument" look on Mulder's face. Danny never said a word, he just put the jacket on and hung on as the waves rose alarmingly around them. Mulder steered the boat into the wind and began to berate himself for the foolish decision he'd made. He tried to maintain a cool appearance for the kids' sakes, but he was now seriously frightened they wouldn't make it back to Talbot's place. It was raining heavily and the wind buffeted the dinghy, making it difficult for them to make any headway. Mulder was on the verge of turning to go back to town. "Look out!" he shouted to the two boys as a large wave broke over the front of the boat. They'd taken on some water up to this point but this onslaught was the breaking point. The boat lurched and Danny tumbled out into the tumultuous water. Mulder immediately jumped in and grabbed him. The boy was frightened and had swallowed some water; he coughed and gasped for air and Mulder held his head up to make sure he didn't swallow any more. Will was still clinging to the inside of the boat but he was now plainly terrified as well. Mulder held on to Danny with one hand and grabbed the boat, all the while speaking calmly to Will. "It's gonna be okay," he told him, "just hang on." The 17-year-old was wide-eyed with fear and disbelief but he wisely held his tongue, sensing that anything he said to the contrary would only serve to frighten the younger boy Mulder held tightly in the water. "Help me get Danny back in the boat," Mulder told him. But another wave swept over them just then and finally swamped the small boat for good, sending Will flying out into the roiling water. Now Mulder had to hold on to both of them and keep afloat. Their life vests turned out to be a godsend but after 10 or 15 minutes, Mulder wasn't sure how much longer he could keep all three of them together in the raging water. The muscles in his shoulders screamed and he was growing weary from the strain of kicking against the undertow that threatened to pull them further out to sea. "Look!" Will screamed as a large, dark mass appeared from out of the mist of rain and fog. A Coast Guard cutter with a giant search light steamed into view. Through the fog and biting rain, Mulder could see they'd spotted them -- someone must have seen the three of them leave the dock and had the sense to call the Coast Guard station. Within a few minutes, they'd been pulled from the water and were heading for shore. The two boys were given steaming cups of hot chocolate. Mulder was offered one but turned it down. His belly was still sick with fear and self-recrimination. The two kids were already recovered and getting a tour of the boat but the FBI agent sat alone, sinking into a black mood that threatened to overwhelm him. He didn't even want to think about what Skinner would do when he heard about this catastrophe. When they reached land, they were immediately transported to the local hospital. Everyone was fine, according to a harried emergency room physician. "Just wait a few minutes," he told them as he rushed off. "We've called your folks and asked them to come get you. They're bringing dry clothes." The thought of the reception they would receive was enough to frighten all three of them, worse than the storm had, they now thought separately. "I think we're in big trouble," Danny said to no one in particular. "We lost the lobsters!" Mulder and Will exchanged an incredulous glance over his head. "I think that's the least of our problems," Will finally said. Mulder just groaned as the E.R. doors swung open and the two fathers, Skinner and Talbot came running in. Dave and Jim each grabbed their sons into giant bear hugs. Mulder watched them in silence. Somehow he didn't think that was Skinner's most likely reaction. But the AD put a hand on his shoulder and asked him if he was all right; unable to speak, Mulder nodded mutely. Skinner then went off to check on the two boys and Mulder was left with Chuck Talbot, who eventually drove him back to the house. Mulder noted morosely that Skinner chose to ride with the others in Jim Harley's mini-van. On the ride back, he stared dully out the window, not even attempting conversation with Chuck. The summer storm had passed and it was now a clear, cool evening with a bright, star-filled sky. Mulder noted it, sinking further into a well of depression. They all arrived at Talbot's place at the same time. Once inside, Talbot started to build a fire and Mulder slung himself into an armchair next to the fireplace. There was an awkward silence until Jim Harley finally spoke. "Was I not clear this morning when I told you to stay off the boat?" he asked his son. Will recognized the tone of voice. "No, you were very clear," the boy said softly. "And you know the consequence of disobedience, Will, so we won't need to discuss this any further," Jim said. "Just go up and wait for me in our room." Mulder started to speak, but felt Skinner's hand pressing firmly down on his shoulder. He looked up in surprise at the AD as Will passed and headed up the stairs. Danny turned to his father. He'd decided to try to get the first word. "I'm sorry, Dad," he began but Dave put up a hand to stop him. "Not as sorry as you're gonna be, young man," he said. "I suggest you go up and wait for me, too." Danny didn't hesitate another second; he immediately left the room and ran up the stairs. Now Mulder was unable to contain himself. He couldn't let the two boys take the blame for this fiasco. "It was my decision to take the boat," he said testily. "You can't blame them--" "Did you handcuff them and drag them into the boat?" Jim asked him pointedly. "No, but I'm the adult here. . ." he began to argue back. "Well, then I've still got a kid who disobeyed me and that's a problem I need to deal with," Jim said. "You're not my responsibility," he added, looking meaningfully at Skinner. Mulder opened his mouth to continue the debate but the Assistant Director finally broke in. "Mulder," he began. "No! I can't let these kids get punished for my bad judgment," Mulder yelled. "Mulder!" Skinner warned him once again, grabbing him by the arm. "There's more than enough blame to go around here--" "I'M NOT GONNA LET--" Mulder interrupted again, then felt himself being hauled out of his chair. "NO! WHAT YOU'RE GONNA DO IS SHUT UP, MULDER," Skinner bellowed at him. "I've had enough!" The A.D.'s voice had risen to shouting level and a vein in his neck was visibly throbbing. He had a powerful headache with Mulder's name written all over it. He took a deep breath and willed his voice back to normal range but spoke forcefully and with additional emphasis. "There's a shed down by the dock, Mulder," he said slowly. "I want you to wait for me there." "What?" the younger man said, at first confused by the sudden change of tone and content. But understanding dawned quickly and turned the anger in Mulder's gut to rock-solid fear. He looked nervously at the three other men then turned back to Skinner, silent pleading in his eyes. "Please . . . don't . . . ." he whispered. "Don't make me tell you again, Mulder," Skinner said. His tone and his stance signaled no tolerance for argument. The young man hesitated though and the A.D.'s next words exploded. "NOW, MULDER!" he roared. Literally shocked into action, Mulder jumped and headed for the front door. Stalking down the path to the dock, though, he immediately began to get angry. He had worked his way into a full blown temper tantrum by the time he reached the shed and he slammed his hand against the door to open it. The door jamb splintered and the handle clattered to the floor. He slammed the door closed behind him and began pacing the small, orderly tool shed from wall to wall. One side of the shed was taken up by a workbench; on the other redwood lawn furniture was stacked one on top of another. His circuit was curtailed in both directions and his long legs covered the distance in three steps; soon he was becoming dizzy from the quick turnarounds. His mood swung violently from rage at Skinner on one end to violent self-recrimination on the other. At the anger end of the continuum, he made an impulsive decision to leave. Mulder pulled the door open and took a step out -- and ran directly into the AD! Skinner glared at him; there could be no good explanation for the fact that he was about to disobey him again -- and Mulder didn't even bother trying to explain his attempted flight. He was deep in self-destruct mode by now. "So I was wrong about the weather--" he began, his voice already at a fevered pitch. "This is not about the weather!" Skinner yelled back at him. "This is about you disobeying a direct order, disregarding the wishes of those kids' fathers--" "Did you SEE the weather this afternoon before the storm rolled back in?" Mulder cut back in sarcastically. "Are you being willfully dense, Mulder?" the Assistant Director shouted. "Or is your ego just that out of control? . . . YOU knew better than their fathers. YOU knew better than me. YOU knew better than the National Weather Service!--" "You're mad because I guessed wrong about the weather--" the young agent retorted. Skinner stared at him in disbelief. Taking a deep, slow breath, he looked around the shed, finally setting his sights on a couple of redwood chairs stacked on top of each other. He pulled a cushion from a lounge chair and draped it over the chairs. Mulder knew exactly where this was going and he grew more enraged and rebellious. "Well, I can see you're not interested in hearing my side of it," he said icily. "Let's just get this over with--" He unbuttoned his jeans and pushed them down to his knees, all the while glaring at Skinner. The AD was stunned at the show of arrogance and blatant disrespect hidden behind this supposed act of submission. "Take them off, Mulder," he growled at the young man. "Off?" Mulder questioned him, taken off guard by the request. Rebellion quickly took the reins again and he rolled his eyes. "Fine . . . whatever!" he said snidely. He kicked off his top-siders, sending one flying across the shed, and stepped out of his jeans. Skinner was growing angrier by the minute. He grabbed Mulder and bent him forward over the lounge cushion, then pulled the gray, cotton boxers down to his knees. Finally, he slid his belt out from the loops in his jeans. "What are you being punished for, Agent Mulder," he asked. No answer came back and Skinner brought the belt down on his upturned bottom in a flash. "I asked you a question," the AD said, raising his voice again. "For being a lousy weather forecaster," Mulder replied belligerently. Five angry strokes later, the young man's backside was already striped with red welts. Skinner stopped momentarily, breathing deeply and consciously lowering his volume. "Let's begin again, Agent Mulder," he said evenly. "What is this strapping for?" He brought the belt down across Mulder's butt once again. "I can't hear you, Mulder." SMACK! "I'm sure I can hold out longer than you can." SMACK! SMACK! "Owwwww!" the young man finally gasped, as another lick blazed across his backside. "For disobeying you!" he ground out between gritted teeth. "That's better, Mulder," Skinner said, angrier still at the show of defiance. "What else, Agent Mulder?" SMACK! "For taking the boat without permission," he snapped back at the AD Skinner was stunned at the rebellious tone he maintained and issued three more licks in response. "What else?" he asked again and again until the young man had exhausted his list of transgressions and was sobbing in discomfort and misery. After about 25 licks, the AD stopped and stepped away. "We're through, Mulder," he said. "You can get up now." Mulder bit back a tearful sob, not wanting to give the other man the satisfaction of knowing how much he hurt. He bit down on his lower lip as he pulled up his shorts and angrily wiped his face on the sleeve of his black tee shirt. Then he grabbed his jeans and started to put them back on. "No need to do that, Mulder," Skinner said, knowing it would be a painful experience for the young agent. "You're going to bed anyway--" Mulder looked at the older man incredulously. He stared hard at Skinner, his body language communicating the full range of his thoughts. Skinner chose to ignore his posture and the non-verbal signals. "Let's go," he said, heading out the door and up the path to the house. Mulder grabbed his shoes and jeans in his arms and rushed to follow him. Skinner could hear him muttering to himself just loud enough to be sure he was heard. "Fucking ridiculous. . . . not gonna put up with this shit anymore . . . I'll go to bed when I fucking feel like it." "I'd be very careful, Mulder," Skinner said forcefully. "You're on very thin ice as it is." They entered the house and Skinner headed into the living room; Mulder started up the stairs to the bedrooms but Skinner called him back down. When the younger agent entered the living room, Talbot, and Harley were standing by the fireplace; Dave Pearsall was seated in the armchair and both boys were sitting on the couch, their faces tear-stained and subdued. "I think you owe a few apologies first, Mulder," the AD said to him, continuing to the other end of the room and leaning against the back wall. Mulder stared at him, too embarrassed to make eye contact with anyone else in the room. He shifted his shoes and jeans in his arms too get a better grip on them and thought about just leaving the room. But he was in uncharted territory now and wasn't even able to figure out what the AD would do next in either case. So he just stood there, glaring at Skinner, who had crossed his muscled arms over his chest and was staring back at him. Thinking better of continuing a battle of wills he'd already lost, Mulder relented a little. He glanced over at the boys. "I'm sorry for putting you guys in danger," he said sincerely. Then he glanced back at Skinner. The Assistant Director nodded for him to continue. Anger returned full force now He looked at Chuck Talbot next. "And I'm sorry about your boat," he said evenly. "If I still have a job. . . ." his eyes flicked back to Skinner, "I'll be more than happy to pay for it." Skinner pulled himself off the wall and took two steps into the center of the room. Mulder saw his approach and ignored it. Now he looked at Talbot and Pearsall. "And I'm really sorry you both found it necessary to punish your kids for my bad decision!" he spat out. "Mulder!" the AD growled at him, reaching him in a single stride. But he was on a collision course with disaster and nothing Skinner said was going to pull him out of it before he crashed and burned. Mulder looked directly into the A.D.'s eyes now. "But I'm ABJECTLY sorry . . . about the FUCKING WEATHER!" he shouted directly at the other man. "Although I don't really see how that's my fault either!" Skinner stared back at him, taking but a single heartbeat to consider his next action. "Okay, that's it," he said immediately thereafter. "I've had it, Mulder. . . . Turn around." Mulder blinked in confusion. "Turn around, Agent Mulder!" the AD said forcefully. Mulder's brain went into overload and he found he couldn't move a muscle to follow Skinner's order if he wanted to. He just stared angrily at the other man. "Obviously our little . . . 'discussion' in the shed just now didn't have the desired effect," the Assistant Director said to him. "I guess we'll just have to try again. . . . And this is the last time I'm going to tell you--TURN AROUND!" Mulder hardened his stance and the set of his jaw, and continued to stare unblinking at the AD A struggle waged within him between the desire to cut and run and the remote possibility of following Skinner's order. He didn't think he could do it and he tried with all his might to wordlessly communicate that to the AD Skinner's gaze never wavered, nor his resolve from what Mulder could see. His heart was racing and he could hear his pulse pounding in his hears. After what seemed like an eternity to both men, the younger one blinked once and lowered his eyes to the floor. Then he slowly stepped around and faced the hall. His eyes still on the floor, he felt Skinner roughly grab the waistband of his shorts and pull them down below his buttocks. Mulder's face turned as hot and red as his backside. Skinner grabbed Mulder's arm with his left hand and spoke. "I thought Agent Mulder and I had already dealt with this, but it appears I was wrong," he said. "So we'll go over it once more." He smacked the young man's already reddened bottom hard. Mulder bucked forward and let out a small gasp but Skinner held him in a vise-like grip. "Do you understand how I feel about disobedience, Mulder?" SMACK! "Aaahhh," Mulder exclaimed. "Yes! I understand!" "And what about poor judgment?" SMACK! "Do we need to talk about that again?" he asked angrily. "No! No. . . we don't," he ground out, biting his lower lip, trying to keep from sobbing openly. "And now for the (SMACK) final item (SMACK) – disrespect. Do you need a refresher course on how I feel about the blatant (SMACK!) disrespect you displayed here tonight, Mulder?" (SMACK!) "NO!" he sobbed unwillingly. "No, I understand. . . . I get it!" Skinner swallowed hard, finally standing down from the raw anger Mulder had pushed him into. He exhaled, realizing he'd been unconsciously holding his breath, and pulled Mulder's shorts back over his burning cheeks. The young man was sobbing quietly and staring at his feet. "You can go to bed now, Agent Mulder," Skinner said without hint of emotion. Without a glance back, Mulder walked into the foyer and toward the stairs. Taking them three at a time, he was up the stairs and down the hall in a flash. He crashed into the bedroom he shared with Skinner, threw himself on the bed and proceeded to cry himself into an exhausted sleep. Without looking at his stunned audience or saying a word, Walter Skinner headed out the front door. Several hours later, everyone else had gone to bed and Chuck Talbot walked down to the dock behind his house, looking for his friend. Skinner was camped out on a redwood lounge at the end of the dock; he'd taken the beer cooler from the speedboat and had it parked conveniently next to the lounge. Three empties stood in formation next to the cooler and he had a fourth nearly dead soldier in his hand. He heard Talbot approach but didn't make a move. "Just wanted to make sure you didn't drown yourself," Talbot said to him. Skinner snorted. "Not that it didn't cross my mind. . ." he answered wryly. Talbot took a seat on the dock, letting his legs hang off over the water. Skinner removed another beer from the cooler and offered it to him but the attorney shook his head. Skinner popped the cap off and took a deep slug. They were both silent a moment, then Chuck looked up at his friend. "That's one hell of a strong-willed young man," he said in opening. Skinner let out a sharp laugh. "And that was one hell of an ugly scene," he said. "I'd say you were sorely tested back there," Talbot continued. "And found sorely lacking, I'm afraid," Skinner completed the thought for him. Talbot considered that for a moment, then shook his head. "I seriously doubt that, Walt. I'd say he got exactly what he was looking for." He laughed. "My Dad used to have an expression. . . 'you're just begging for it,' he'd say. I'd say that kid was begging for it tonight." Now it was Skinner's turn to disagree. He shook his head slowly. "I don't know. I just can't figure him out. Every time I think I've made some progress, he pushes the edge of my patience just a little further . . . I don't know. I think maybe it's time to just give up." "And then you'll have failed the test," Talbot said matter-of-factly. "I'm well into my fifth beer, Chuck," Skinner said, "so maybe I'm just not following you—" "That's what he's looking for, I think," Chuck replied. "He's waiting to see when you withdraw. Because, I'm guessing, in Mulder's world everyone withdraws sooner or later. . . one way or another." Talbot stood up and prepared to leave. "Practicing psychology now instead of law, are you, Chuck?" Skinner asked him. "Nah, but I do get to see a lot of family dynamics in my business," he replied, clapping the other man on the shoulder as he passed. He picked up a plate from the dock with a half-eaten hamburger on it. "I see you got some dinner." "Yeah, Will brought it down earlier," Skinner said. "Did anyone think to get Mulder some food?" "Ah, no . . ." Talbot replied as he walked toward the path. "I don't think anybody wanted to risk your wrath!" Skinner returned to the house alone a few minutes later. It was quiet now with everyone else asleep and he crept quietly into the kitchen. Grabbing an iced mug from the freezer, he poured a glass of cold milk into it, then took the lid off a cookie tin on the counter. Dave Pearsall's wife had sent oatmeal cookies and he took two out and replaced the lid. Putting them in a napkin, he took the glass and cookies upstairs to the room he shared with Mulder. "Mulder," he whispered after closing the bedroom door. The younger man was asleep, breathing hard through his mouth, in sort, raspy breaths. "Mulder," he said just a little louder but the body facing the wall didn't move and his breathing continued uninterrupted, short, shallow, rhythmic. Skinner decided not to disturb his rest and put the glass and cookies on the night stand between the two beds. Then he stripped to his shorts and tee-shirt and fell wearily into bed. In a few minutes, he too was deep in sleep. "I can't hold you! I can't . . . I lost them!" Mulder shouted and Skinner sat straight up in his bed. "I lost them. . ." Mulder sobbed. It took the AD a moment to get oriented but then he realized the young man was having a nightmare. "It's okay, Mulder," he whispered quickly. "You didn't lose anyone, you're dreaming." "I lost them," the young man wept bitterly in his sleep. "I . . . I . . . I don't know how it happened," he continued, shaking his head. "I don't know how I lost her." Now Skinner was growing concerned and he threw off the sheet and got out of bed. Standing over the young man, he saw Mulder's eyes were open but he was definitely still asleep. "Mulder, wake up!" the AD said quietly. "You're just having a nightmare." "I'm sorry," Mulder said forlornly, tears rolling down his cheeks. "I'm sorry, Dad, I'm sorry. I don't know how I lost her." Skinner realized the emotional turmoil of the day must have opened an old wound and he sat down on the edge of the bed and put his hands on Mulder's shoulders to shake him awake. The distraught young man flinched at his touch and looked straight at him but he was seeing someone else, Skinner knew. "I'm sorry Dad, I'm sorry," he went on and on. "I don't know how it happened. . . . I'm so sorry. . ." Skinner's heart was heavy just watching this drama unfold; how many years had this young man carried the burden of guilt that now spilled out in front of him? The Assistant Director knew he should shake him out of this dream but he was torn between doing what his head told him to, and following his heart. And his heart wanted to reach out to the emotionally scarred 12-year-old he now surveyed. Never one to overanalyze, Skinner grabbed the weeping young man into a tight embrace, rubbing his back and caressing the back of his head. "It's all right, Fox," he said, wondering guiltily if following his instincts was the right thing to do in this instance. "It's all right, nobody blames you," he told him. Mulder rested his head on the A.D.'s shoulder and continued to sob. "I'm sorry, Dad," he said again, his voice growing smaller. "I’m sorry. I'm so sorry." "It's all right, Fox," Skinner reassured him again. "I know you did the best you could." At that moment, all the tension seemed to flow out of the younger man and he instinctively put his arms around Skinner's back and turned his head to snuggle deeper into the older man's embrace. His tears slowed and Skinner felt him start to tremble a little. Skinner reached out with one hand to touch the mug of milk on the night stand; it was still cool and he picked it up and pulled back from Mulder just a little. "I want you to drink this, Fox," he said. "You didn't have any supper. . ." Mulder blinked, finally recognizing the Assistant Director. He looked up in embarrassment but Skinner ignored that, instead pressing the glass of milk on the young man and pretending nothing unusual had just occurred. Mulder drained the glass reflexively and handed it back in silence. "Go back to sleep, Mulder," Skinner told him quietly. "You just had a dream, that's all." The younger man laid down slowly and turned onto his side. In a few seconds, he was asleep once again. Skinner watched him for a few moments, then he pulled the sheet back up over his shoulders and went back to bed himself. *************************************************************** The next morning 8:05 a.m. "Aren't we ever going to have breakfast?" Danny asked plaintively. "It's almost 9 o'clock and I'm STARVING!" Skinner laughed at the mild exaggeration; he and Chuck were charged with fixing breakfast and they were nearly done with the blueberry pancakes and bacon. The aroma of coffee wafted through the house and Will was in the process of squeezing enough fresh orange juice for everyone. "Do you think you can hold out another 5 minutes, Danny, or are we going to have an extra helping left after you're dead?" Skinner chuckled. He glanced at the clock and thought again that it was odd Mulder wasn't up; the younger agent was not a good sleeper generally and the activity in the house this morning should have had him up long ago. Today was their last day and everyone had packed up first thing so they could have the better part of the day for water-skiing. He decided to go check on his roommate. Skinner knocked on the door and heard a muffled "Who is it?" in response. He opened the door and went in. Mulder was lying on his bed, dressed in jeans and a tee shirt. He had his left arm draped over his eyes. "Are you okay, Mulder?" Skinner asked him. "I was wondering if you could drive me to the airport, sir," he replied. "I could catch a puddle jumper to Boston, then get the shuttle back to D.C." Skinner was caught short at this sudden change of heart. He considered it for a moment, then stepped closer to the bed. "Why?" he asked. "I just want to go home, that's all," Mulder replied. Skinner was still perplexed. "Look at me when I'm talking to you, Mulder," he said with a measure of authority. The younger man brought his arm down quickly and looked at him, but he had trouble maintaining eye contact. Instead he stared at the ceiling above Skinner's head. "We're leaving this afternoon," Skinner told him. "Why do you have to go now?" Mulder chewed on his lower lip for a moment. "I . . . I can't face them," he finally said. Skinner drew a deep breath, then sat down on the bed next to Mulder. "Why?" he asked him again. "Because! . . . Because I'm too . . . ashamed," he said dully. Skinner was not about to give up on this line of questioning. "Why?" he said once again. Mulder shot him an annoyed look. "Because I almost got those kids killed yesterday!" Skinner relaxed and smiled at him. "Nobody got killed, Mulder," he said. "You made a mistake, I'm not excusing that. And last night you paid for it. Hopefully you learned this lesson once and for all. Now it's over – and we move on. . . . That's how life goes." The young man remained unconvinced; he shook his head and began staring at the ceiling over Skinner's head again. "I mean it, Mulder," Skinner said. "It's over. You have to learn to put things behind you. If you keep carrying all this baggage around with you, you're gonna collapse under the weight, I guarantee it." He put his hand on the young man's thigh. "Get yourself together, Mulder," he said rising. "I want you downstairs in ten minutes." In ten minutes exactly, the young FBI agent came through the kitchen door to a chorus of "Hi Mulders!" and "Good mornings." He shrugged a response to everyone and sheepishly took a seat at the kitchen table. Will got up to get him a glass of orange juice and Mulder watched as Jim Harley caressed the back of his son's head as he poured. Mulder took the glass of juice but demurred on the pancakes Talbot offered. "I'm not hungry," he said. "My Dad says we can go water-skiing, if you come, Mulder," Danny said excitedly. "Will you?" The boy leaned over and nearly fell out of his chair. "Will you come?" "Let the guy eat before you start badgering him, Danny," Dave said laughing, pulling him back upright and playfully thumping him on the head. Skinner placed a large plate of pancakes and bacon in front of Mulder despite his earlier refusal. Unconsciously the younger man poured fresh maple syrup on the stack and began eating. "Well, I don't know how much time we have . . ." he said, looking for an opening one of the fathers could use to dissuade their kids from this plan. "We've got plenty of time, Mulder," Jim told him. "Walter says you two don't have to leave 'til three." Mulder looked up at the AD in surprise. "I think we can get at least a few hours of water-skiing lessons in, Mulder," he said, watching the plate of hotcakes disappear. "That is, if you think you can keep up with the boys!" A few minutes later, Talbot and the others had headed down to the dock to get the speedboat ready. Mulder had disappeared upstairs to change into his swimsuit and Skinner was just finishing up loading the dishwasher and policing the kitchen. He heard the kitchen floorboards creak and turned to see Mulder in a tee-shirt and swimsuit. Skinner noted with satisfaction that he was lightly sunburned and looked healthy and even content. He gave the younger man a fond smile. "Everything okay, Mulder?" he asked curiously. "Yeah, everything's okay," Mulder replied, then he hesitated before continuing. Finally, he spoke again. "I just wanted to say thanks, sir. For the weekend . . . . and for everything else." Skinner was touched by this simple gesture; he knew it could not have come easily to the complicated young man. "You're welcome," the Assistant Director said. THE END