The Danville Series by Cadillac Red Disclaimer: The characters of Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, Walter Skinner and Jana Cassidy 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: Multiple. Gethsemene, Redux I and II, Detour, Darkness Falls, Syzygy and Fight the Future Setting: Early fifth season, between Redux II and Detour. Rating: PG. Discipline, no slash. Title: A Matter of Trust Author: Cadillac Red Summary: Mulder's attempt to cover up an act of disobedience leads Skinner to lose faith in his agent -- and Mulder has a severe price to pay to win back the A.D.'s trust. A Matter of Trust FBI Headquarters Washington, D.C. Assistant Director Walter Skinner exited the elevator at the basement level and headed for the home of the X-files division. He noted the name on the door "Special Agent Fox Mulder" and thought for the fourth time in as many days that he ought to talk to Mulder about that. He knocked and entered in one continuous flow of motion. Special Agent Dana Scully looked up and gave him a half-smile. "One o'clock already, sir?" He smiled back at her, noting with pleasure that she was starting to get her color back and even filling out again, just a little. Her recent brush with death had scared them all; now she had returned that week on 'limited duty' and was supposedly working half-days. But Skinner and Mulder had had to 'double-team' her after the first day to make sure she actually left each afternoon at the appointed hour. "Actually, it's almost two, Agent Scully," he said, glancing at his watch. "Don't tell me Mulder hasn't called you already?" Mulder was out of the office investigating a potential new case but Skinner would be very surprised if he forgot to 'remind' Scully to go home. "No, actually, he did call -- twice," she replied, beginning to gather her things. She gave him a full-blown smile. "I was ignoring it! I've been feeling so well, with so much energy, I thought I'd try to finish up on these budget reports." "Even completely healthy, Agent Mulder never seems to find any 'energy' to devote to the budget," he laughed ruefully. "Still, in this instance, it really can wait. And don't you dare tell Mulder I said that!" He waited at the door as she got her things and walked with her to the lobby, just to make certain she actually left the building. Then he headed back to his own office to prepare for his 2 o'clock appointment. As he entered his outer office, his assistant Kim gave him a silent head shake that he thought meant someone was in his office. It was barely 1:45; too early for his 2 o'clock to be there. "Sir," she whispered, conspiratorially. He leaned over her desk. "Why are we whispering?" he whispered back. "Assistant Director Cassidy is waiting for you," she said softly, then sat back in her chair and pretended to be working on something. He straightened up and turned to see Jana Cassidy coming out of his door. "Walter," she greeted him. "I'm glad you got back from lunch early. I wanted to speak to you and I have to leave for the airport in a little while." He was perplexed; they didn't have an appointment and he could think of nothing going on that would bring the AD in charge of the Office for Professional Review his way. The events surrounding Agent Mulder's faked suicide, Agent Scully's near-death, and Section Chief Blevins' murder, had been gone over with a fine-tooth comb in recent weeks. Nothing had been turned up for further review and the matter was closed. Since then, he'd kept Mulder out of the office on various non-X-files cases, partly to keep him out of everyone's line of sight and partly to keep him out of Scully's hair while she recovered. Until this week, he hadn't been in Washington on a weekday for the past month. "Come on in, Jana," he told her, gesturing toward a guest chair. But she headed for the conference table instead. She was holding a file from the San Francisco field office, he saw as soon as she laid it down. His stomach turned over immediately. Mulder had just returned from a case in Northern California that came out of the San Francisco field office. He worked hard at not betraying his sense of foreboding. "I wanted to speak to you about the Caleb Murray case," she began. "You know I ran the San Francisco office for several years, Walter," she continued, "and my people there keep me pretty much informed about things. I know you sent Special Agent Mulder out there to help them with this. I didn't think that was a good idea but I know Phil Evans requested him." Skinner nodded. Evans was someone he knew fairly well and, since he took over the San Francisco office, he'd requested several of Skinner's people for special cases. Jana had traditionally been reluctant to use anyone but her own people but Evans had a more open-minded approach. He reached out for help when he needed it, Skinner thought. "Evans worked for me for a few years, Jana. He occasionally calls when he has something unusual. . . ." "And there's nothing wrong with that," she answered quickly. "I think Phil's doing a great job. It's Agent Mulder I'm here about." Skinner felt the familiar headache coming on but he was not about to let Cassidy in on that piece of trivia. "What exactly is it you're here to talk about?" She sat back from the conference table. "Walter, I'm not out to get him, if that's what you think . . . I'm not making an issue out of this, this case ended favorably. They caught a double-murderer. But there is one point I think you should know about. . . . What you choose to do about it, is up to you." "I'm sorry, Jana," he relented, trying to ease the tension that had reared up between them. "I don't mean to be defensive; it's just that, most of the time, I do seem to be defending Agent Mulder. It's become a reflex, I guess!" "And that's why I want to bring this to your attention. I don't know whether you should be so quick to defend this agent; I don't think he's deserving of your unqualified trust," she said quietly. Now Skinner was worried. What could there possibly be that would make her think Mulder was untrustworthy? Reckless, yes. Irresponsible at times, yes. Rebellious and careless about procedure? Hell, yes. But not trustworthy? He needed to know where she was going with this. "You've got my full attention, Jana," he said. She proceeded to outline a major discrepancy that appeared between the version of events in the Caleb Murray investigation that came from the San Francisco office and the one that appeared in Agent Mulder's narrative. Skinner was already very familiar with this case. The investigative team had hit several major roadblocks; they knew Murray was their man but they couldn't seem to pull together the evidence, forensic or otherwise. Mulder had spent the better part of a week and hadn't helped them advance the case. He'd interrogated the suspect twice, the second time he tried to push Murray into making a mistake with a display of arrogance and anger that the field agents from San Francisco had trouble determining was an act. Skinner had gotten a call from Evans that night, telling him that he thought Mulder had 'crossed the line.' Then it turned out that Murray had some minor political connection and by the following morning, the Bureau had been told in no uncertain terms that, if it had no case, it should leave Mr. Murray alone. Skinner recalled the phone call in which he told Mulder the case had been closed. Mulder had ranted for the better part of 15 minutes before Skinner finally told him to "get your ass on a plane and come back to D.C.!" But Mulder was apparently unable to get a flight until the following day and, that night, a piece of information he'd overlooked from an earlier interview with Murray suddenly fell into place. The investigative team was quickly called back and they searched Murray's office again, this time turning up the evidence they needed. And the case had been resolved successfully. Skinner had been following along with Jana's story, checking it against his own recollection of the events. He was still waiting for the "problem." "I read Agent Mulder's report," she said. "And then I read the report from the San Francisco agents. Mulder's refers to a body of information he got from Murray during their two interviews, or at least, he lists times and places for two. But the field office report refers to a third interview, conducted by Agent Mulder at Mr. Murray's home apparently. And that meeting took place hours after Agent Mulder was told, by you I believe, that the investigation was closed." Skinner's headache had blossomed into a full-blown migraine as she came to her point. He removed his glasses and placed them on the table, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. He was stalling, trying to figure out what to say next. Cassidy merely waited for him to respond. He mentally flipped a coin, then didn't bother to wait to see how it came out. "What makes you think I didn't know about that third meeting, Jana?" he asked her quietly. She lifted one eyebrow in surprise. "And you approved Agent Mulder's report with that inaccuracy?" "An oversight,' he went on. "With everything that's been going on lately, maybe we failed to 'dot an i, or cross a t." Skinner was already too far down this road to turn back. If it was anyone else, maybe he'd have handled it differently. But Jana was already antagonistic toward Mulder; Skinner couldn't just hand him over like this. Not to mention, he hated to be embarrassed in front of his old partner. "Thank you for pointing it out, though. I will see that Agent Mulder's report is amended." AD Cassidy took a deep breath and pursed her lips, giving Skinner a look he remembered well. She rose and started to take the San Francisco field report with her, but he put his hand on the file. "I'd like to keep that, if it's all right," Skinner said. "I . . . want to make certain we reconcile any discrepancies." She nodded and began to leave, then turned back to Skinner. "And I'll assume then, that you've already dealt with the matter of Agent Mulder disobeying a direct order to close the investigation." "Oh, yes, Jana," he said. "You can assume that that's not the kind of thing I would let go without appropriate response." She nodded again and left. Skinner was honestly up-ended. It was not so much that Mulder had done what Jana described; he'd certainly done things like that (and worse!) many times during the years he'd reported to Skinner. But Skinner always thought Mulder was above-board to him about the times he 'stepped out of line.' Skinner thought Mulder was completely truthful in owning up to his actions; now that belief was called seriously into question. With his headache in danger of becoming debilitating, he opened his office door and asked his next appointment to come in. He stepped over to Kim's desk and gave her a list of files he wanted "ASAP!" and also to locate Agent Mulder and ask him to come in at the end of the day. While he was there, he reached into the file cabinet and took three aspirin from the bottle of Excedrin Kim kept there for him, downing them dry before returning to his office. Special Agent Fox Mulder was working his way through the streets of the Capital District at rush hour, not one of his favorite things to do. He hadn't intended to come back to the office today until he received a call from AD Skinner's office asking him to do so. That put him on a collision course with the worst traffic Washington had to offer; no matter what streets he took, he was making minimal progress. The only good thing about it was that it gave him a few minutes to talk to Scully. He had planned to stop in at her place and bring dinner but now he wasn't sure he'd make it there early enough. "What does Skinner want to see you for?" Scully immediately asked him. "I don't know," Mulder replied calmly, trying to work his way over to the turn lane for Pennsylvania Avenue. "Maybe it's about a new case. . . The lead I've been pursuing is turning out to be dryer than Arizona in August!" "Well, it can't be anything too serious, Mulder," she said lightly. "I saw him around 2 o'clock and he was in a very good mood." "How could you see him at 2 o'clock, Scully?" he teased her. "Unless he was visiting your apartment . . . " "Very funny, Mulder," she answered. She knew he was enjoying the chance to keep her in check for once. Usually it was the other way around. "I was a little late getting out of the office today, so shoot me!" "Don't tempt me, Scully!" he threatened good-naturedly. "I seem to recall I owe you one in that regard!" He turned into 9th Street, then turned again onto "E," heading for the underground parking levels below the Hoover building. "I'm heading under, Scully," he told her. "Don't wait to eat . . . I'll call you when I finish up with Skinner." Several minutes later he waited in Skinner's outer office. It was just past 6 o'clock and Kim was packing up to go. She gave him a sympathetic smile that immediately got his antenna up. He frantically catalogued everything he'd done that day and in the preceding few days and could come up with nothing that would warrant Skinner's notice, let alone anger. And Kim definitely looked like she thought he was about to walk into the grizzly bear's den! He started to fidget nervously, more from habit than anything else. Kim opened the Assistant Director's door and told him that Agent Mulder was waiting. Then, with another tight smile for the doomed man, Kim said good-night and left. He debated about whether to take the initiative and go in and say hello. But he decided to wait until he was called anyway. His legs were numb and he was unsure whether he could actually stand at this point. He stared at his hands which had grown clammy with fear and started to wipe them off on the legs of his pants. "Agent Mulder." Mulder nearly jumped off the couch. He looked up quickly and saw Skinner, in his shirt sleeves, standing at his door. Without another word, the AD abruptly turned and went in. his mind screamed. another part of his brain countered. He slowly got to his feet and entered the office. "Close the door, Mulder," Skinner said. He was now sitting behind his desk, staring at the younger agent. Mulder closed the door and approached the desk. He waited for a signal to sit down but Skinner merely stared at him. Now the young agent was truly terrified. He didn't want to make a single wrong move. He stood next to the guest chair and instinctively put his arms behind his back. Then he waited. And waited. Finally, unable to take it any longer, he spoke. "You wanted to see me, sir?" he asked. "Yes." Mulder swallowed hard. This was getting worse all the time . . . and he still didn't know what 'this' was! "About what, sir?" he asked, noting the squeak around the edges of his normal tenor. Skinner sat forward and leaned across the desk. "I wanted to review the Murray case with you." Mulder's heart skipped a beat before he could answer. "We . . . we already reviewed the Murray case, sir," he answered too quickly. "Remember, Monday--" "I remember, Mulder!" Skinner barked. "I'm not senile yet!" "I didn't mean to -- that is, I know you remember, of course you remember," he babbled, then stopped and started again. "We got the arrest, you know-- and the conviction's gonna be a slam-dunk. . . " His voice trailed off as he saw the set of Skinner's jaw. He saw an open case file on Skinner's desk; just next to it, was a second case folder and he could see it was from the San Francisco field office. Reasoning there was no point in making this any worse, he asked quietly, "What is it you wanted to review, sir?" "Let's cut to the chase, Agent Mulder," the AD ground out between clamped teeth. "How is it you failed to mention, or note, your third interview with Mr. Murray?. . . . The one that took place SIX HOURS after I told you the case was closed?" Mulder stared at him mutely. Try as he might, he could think of no good explanation. "Your detail reports list two interrogations, I notice. But your summary report, THE ONE I SIGNED OFF ON, refers to information gleaned from 'interviews.' Not two, not THREE! . . . Your lack of precision is uncharacteristic, Mulder. I should have picked up on that. . . . " Skinner shook his head wearily and appeared to be weighing his next statement. "Before you speak again, Agent Mulder," he said meaningfully, "let me also tell you I checked on available airline seats for Washington on that date. Do I have to tell you how many planes left San Francisco below capacity that very day?" Mulder shook his head, unable to look the Assistant Director in the eye. "Do you want to tell me why you lied to me, Agent Mulder?" Skinner said, more softly than Mulder had ever expected. The younger agent's eyes clouded with tears and he looked to the side to avoid showing how deeply ashamed he was at that moment. And he noticed the conference table -- filled with stacks of case files. Curiosity getting the best of him, he squinted to look a little closer, trying to figure out what they were there for. "I see you've noticed the files, Agent Mulder," Skinner said, rising and walking over to the conference table. "This is the sum total of cases that you've worked on since you've reported to me." He motioned to the table and the vast number of files. "It's pretty impressive on first sight," he conceded. "I'm planning to spend the weekend revisiting everyone of them, Agent Mulder. . . . Now that I know what to look for, I'm anxious to see how many other lies you've told me over the years." Mulder was struck to the core by the power of his words. His mind raced, trying to identify some tactic to change the A.D.'s plan of action. He did not want Skinner reviewing the documentation again, he knew he'd find what he was looking for. "Agent Mulder," Skinner interrupted his mental debate. "If you'd care to . . . try to mitigate this situation . . . ," Skinner said, "you might like to sort through them yourself. Just pull out the ones I actually need to review again. . . . That would be all the ones that contain lies." Mulder's head snapped up. "I never lied to you, sir," he said quickly but Skinner cut him off just as fast. "All right, let's just say you 'obfuscated the facts,' then Mulder." he snapped angrily. "It's all the same to me." Mulder felt like he'd been slapped. He blinked to hold back the tears that threatened to spring to his eyes and he drew in a shaky breath. Eyes on the floor, he waited for Skinner to continue. "It's gonna be a few hours of work, I'd say, Mulder." he noted quietly. "Stay as late as you need to. You can put the files I don't need to see back in the boxes over there. And leave all the ones I should review again on the table." Skinner walked behind his desk and grabbed his briefcase and his suit jacket, then started for the door. Without actually looking back, he glanced over his shoulder before opening the office door. "Don't bother to come in tomorrow, Agent Mulder," he added. "Consider yourself suspended until I see how big a problem I have." Then he opened the door and left without saying good-bye. Special Agent Mulder pulled a chair away from the conference table and sat down. Then he laid his head on the first stack of files in front of him, and let the tears he'd been damming up come. Almost two hours later, Mulder's phone trilled insistently. He looked up from his work bleary-eyed and flipped it open, pressing the SEND button. "Mulder," he said softly his voice still heavy with spent tears. "Are you all right, Mulder?" Dana Scully asked him. "I hesitated to call if you were still with Skinner. . . ." "No, I'm alone now," he answered her. "I'm . . . I'm just reviewing some old files," he finished, not wanting to worry her. She'd been through so much lately, too much, and it was all his fault. She didn't need to lose any sleep over his predicament. "Are you gonna be much longer, Mulder?" she asked. "I saved you some dinner. . . ." "Yeah," he replied. "Yeah, unfortunately, I am gonna be a few more hours. Something came up that Skinner wants my . . . input on." "Oh, well, then I'll just put it in the refrigerator," she said. "So I guess I'll see you in the morning, then." "Actually. . . I'm not gonna be in the office tomorrow," he said quickly. "But I'll call. . . . I'll . . . call you," his voice trailed off momentarily. Then he got another grip on himself. "I'm taking a day off tomorrow, I may have forgotten to tell you. So get a good night's rest, okay, Scully? You're gonna have to hold up my end tomorrow, too!" "Well, without you around to create chaos, I bet I can do both our jobs in half a day!" she laughed, trying to cover her unease. "Yeah, I bet you can, too. . . Good night, Scully," he said before disconnecting. Glancing at the files he'd identified so far, he didn't event want to consider what Skinner was gonna do to him this time. ********************************************************************* FBI Headquarters The next morning At 7:30 a.m. on the dot, Assistant Director Walter Skinner wearily trudged down the hall to his office. He'd slept badly, then awoke with the same headache he'd gone to bed with, the one with Special Agent Mulder's fingerprints all over it. He paused before opening the door to his office, silently praying that he'd find no files on his conference room table. But when he actually pushed the door open, his heart immediately sank. The majority of the files were neatly piled in the boxes but two stacks of files lay on the table—exactly 9 to his count. He wondered for a second whether he should review the boxed files as well and his heart grew heavier at the fact the thought even entered his mind. His schedule for the day was packed and he would have no time to even consider it until Saturday, a Saturday he now knew he'd spend reviewing Agent Mulder's work for the past several years. He shook off the overwhelming sense of disappointment he felt and put the entire matter as far into the back of his mind as he could violently shove it. He went to his desk and began the day he'd planned before yesterday's stunning revelations. ******************************************************************** Office of the X-Files Special Agent Dana Scully finished the final item on the X-Files division's budget outlook and sat back in her chair. She was uneasy; she knew something was wrong, all her instincts told her so. It was now close to 3 p.m. and neither Mulder nor Skinner had called to "remind" her to go home. Mulder had been out of touch all day and she had tried his home and cell phones several times, to no avail. Now she thought her only option was to try Skinner; he might have an explanation for this odd turn of events. She took the budget report and headed up the elevator to try to track him down. "Sir?" Scully said quietly as she put her head in his half-open door. He was lost in thought, with an uneaten sandwich on the desk in front of him. She cleared her throat to get his attention and he finally looked up. "Sir," she said again, "I wanted to drop off the budget report." "Agent Scully!" he said quickly, trying to shake off the malaise that had descended on him, not wanting to worry her until it was completely necessary. "Come on in, Agent Scully, have a seat." He took the budget file she offered and dropped it on his desk top. "I was wondering if you knew what Agent Mulder's doing today," she asked, getting right to the point. "I haven't been able to reach him. And it's so unusual for him to just take a vacation day. . . !" He shook his head imperceptibly. With Mulder, you could never be sure. "No, no I don't know what he's doing today," he answered. "I'm sure he'll fill you in on Monday." She nodded. But before she could respond, Kim's voice broke in through the intercom to tell him the Director was on the phone. Skinner gave her an apologetic look and a hand signal that said "two minutes" and took the call, turning his back to Scully. Not wanting to eavesdrop on the conversation, she rose and started for the door thinking she'd wait with Kim. As she passed by, the files on the conference table caught her attention -- they were X-files! Then she noticed the boxes behind the table, mostly X-files, too. She didn't want to appear too nosey so she quickly scanned the ones on the table as she passed. Her gut instincts were standing on their hind legs and waving now. She could hear from the conversation that Skinner was finishing up with the Director so she slid back into the guest chair and waited. He hung up and turned back to her, again apologizing for the interruption. "No problem, sir, I understand completely," she answered with a smile. "I couldn't help noticing the files on your table . . . " She glanced up at him, trying to gauge his reaction. "They're mostly X-files. . . . perhaps I could help you with something?" He was startled by her directness, although he knew he shouldn't be. She was as honest and direct as they come, he thought. He considered his next words carefully, then decided she'd have to be brought into the loop eventually. "Well, actually, perhaps you can. . . " When he'd finished, he saw she was fighting a tide of emotions. Anger, resentment, fear. He added one last statement before turning it over to her. "I have no reason to believe that you were a party to any wrongdoing, Agent Scully." She considered his words and her response carefully. "I have never known Agent Mulder to outright lie to you, sir," she said. "I don't believe he would ever do that." Skinner sighed. He did not want to get into an argument with her, not now. "What's the difference between a 'lie' and an 'outright lie,' Agent Scully?" he asked quietly. "Agent Mulder seems to share the same definition, I would really like to understand it." She swallowed and pressed her lips together. Skinner was struck by the expression, it reminded him of the one Jana Cassidy had given him yesterday. "It's just that so much of what he does is . . . somewhat 'irregular,' sir," she said. "And he's had to fight the . . . derision. . . of so many in the Bureau. He just finds ways to . . . gloss over . . . some of the stranger or less conventional things. That's the best way I know to explain it." Skinner absorbed her words and wished with all his heart they provided an acceptable excuse. But he just couldn't get there. He rose and came around his desk, then leaned back on the desk in front of her. "Agent Scully, I know at times throughout our association, you've doubted my support. Even recently, I know you had serious reservations about my involvement with . . . . the men who gave you your cancer," he said. She immediately interrupted him. "But I was wrong! I know that now!" She shook her head. "I wasn't thinking clearly, I guess, with everything that was going on. But Agent Mulder never doubted you, he was always certain--" "That's my point, Agent Scully," Skinner said. "Let's just say Agent Mulder has a lot more reason to be certain of my unqualified support, to be certain that I'm on his side. . . . That's why the fact that he would choose to keep the truth from me is so . . . so plainly intolerable." She saw there was no point continuing the argument. He was fixed in his opinion, at least for now. She sighed and got up to leave. "Is there anything else you need from me before I leave for the day, sir?" "No, Agent Scully," he said. He was struck by an overpowering need to make it better for her and he grabbed at a very thin straw. "I still haven't reviewed all these files, though, Scully. It may not be as bad as it seems right now." He was struck suddenly with the revelation that, deep inside, that was exactly what he was hoping for! He gave her a half-smile and she turned to go. ******************************************************************* Fox Mulder’s Apartment Building Alexandria, Virginia He didn't answer when she knocked on the door to his apartment. He still wasn't answering when she called his phones. But when she used her key to let herself in, he was sitting on the couch, as she expected. The television wasn't on and he appeared not to have changed out of his clothes from the day before. He certainly hadn't showered or shaved. "Have you slept, Mulder?" she asked him. He shook his head. Scully came and sat on the couch next to him. He tried to think of an excuse for the state she'd found him in but she quickly put an end to that pursuit. "I talked to Skinner," she said. "He told me everything." He was sick with fear that the AD had actually told her everything, about how he'd been dealing with Mulder's bad behavior in the past 10 months. "I don't know what to say, Mulder," she continued. "I just wish I'd been with you when you wrote that report. . ." He breathed a small sigh of relief. Then he was able to focus more fully on her words. "If I had been there, maybe I could have helped you think through what you were going to put in the report, maybe--" "No, Scully!" he interrupted her angrily. "You're not my conscience! Or at least, you shouldn't have to be. . . . " She nodded and accepted the truth of his words. That's not what she wanted to be to him, either. She was struck once again with the depth of her caring for him, with all his faults and foibles. And she was afraid for him, for what would happen to him if the Assistant Director finally gave up on him. She knew intuitively that, somehow, in the past few years she and Skinner had been the ropes that moored him to solid ground. And she was not certain that she could do that alone. "What do you think happens now, Mulder?" she asked him softly. He shook his head, the last shred of anger wafting gently into the ether. His eyes clouded with a nameless fear and he bit down on his lower lip to try to hold back the onslaught of fear and shame that rushed in to fill the void. Then he slowly laid his head in her lap and cried. They slept together on his couch for the better part of the evening, then he woke from his disturbed rest and got up. Scully was sound asleep, her head lolled back and to the side. He gently lowered her to rest her head on a pillow and scooped her legs up onto the other end of the couch. Then he spent the rest of the night prowling the rooms of his apartment, settling momentarily in one place or another, then forced by his restlessness to begin the circuit once more. At 7 a.m. Saturday morning, he was sitting in the armchair by the couch, half-dozing, when she awoke. "Hi," she said, and his head snapped up. "Hi yourself," he said, attempting a smile. It was clear she wasn't fooled. He stood and went to the kitchen to make coffee while she freshened up. He had no food to offer her except a very old box of pop tarts; somehow he doubted she'd jump at that but he placed them on the kitchen table anyway. Scully eyed them with disdain when she returned and took a mug of coffee from him. He had no milk but he kept a jar of non-dairy creamer just for her. She took a teaspoonful and mixed it into the coffee. Then she looked at him, leaning against the counter, holding a cup of coffee he had not yet made a move to drink. He looked . . . adrift, she thought. "Mulder," she began, "I had a 'family' weekend planned. . . . My mother and I have tickets for a show this afternoon and tomorrow is Missy's birthday. . . . Mom asked Father McHugh to say a memorial mass and we're all supposed to attend. . . But--" He knew where she was going and he wouldn't have it. "No, Scully, you should go ahead with your plans! I don't need a babysitter," he said quickly. "I really don't want to leave you alone, feeling like this, Mulder," she began again, but he cut her off forcefully. "Scully, the only thing that would make me feel worse is you canceling your plans to stay here and watch me," he said. "Anyway, Skinner's probably gonna be calling me, he's reviewing the files today." She knew he was probably right. Without finishing her coffee, she rose to go. Turning back quickly, she covered the distance between them in two steps, then gave him a quick hug and left. Then he waited for Skinner's call. And waited some more. By 2 o'clock, he was pacing his apartment like a caged tiger. By 3, he was near panic. He decided to go for a run, reasoning that the AD would leave a message on his machine if Mulder was out when he called. He returned an hour later, expecting, even praying for the message light on his answering machine to be on. It was, but the call was from Melvin Frohike, asking him if he wanted to join the Lone Gunmen for pizza. He didn't bother to return the call, not wanting to tie up his line. He showered quickly and then shaved, keeping the portable phone with him but it never rang. By 6 p.m., he'd had enough. He drove first to the Hoover building. Finding the Assistant Director's office dark and locked up tight, he headed back to his car and drove directly to Skinner's apartment. The doorman told him 'Mr. Skinner' had left a few hours earlier so he drove around for an hour, stopping at a drive-through window for a burger and fries he then let get cold, choosing only to drink the iced tea he'd ordered with them. On returning to the high-rise, the same doorman merely shook his head when he entered the lobby again. Mulder turned around and headed back to his car; this time, he cruised through and around the Arlington National cemetery for distraction. At 10 p.m., he headed back to Skinner's building again. The same doorman saw him approach and shook his head once again. Mulder asked if he could wait, then camped out on one of the leather couches in the building's lobby. At midnight, the doorman's shift ended and his replacement took up his post. It was the early morning guy Mulder had met at least once before, when he'd come to Skinner's place in the early hours. He shook off the memory, not wanting to dwell on what was the most likely outcome of this situation, too. The doorman dimmed the lobby lights and sometime after 2 a.m., the worried young agent drifted into a restless sleep. ******************************************************************* The next morning At 7:30 a.m., Walter Skinner pulled his long body out of his jeep and locked it up. The sun was just coming up on what promised to be a gray Sunday. Rain was threatening, he could see, and a thick cover of clouds filtered the rising sun. He'd caught the first shuttle back from Boston, after missing the last one the night before. He was wrestling with a decision and talking to his old friend, Chuck Talbot, always helped him sort out his thoughts. Over dinner, and later at Chuck's apartment, he'd filled the attorney in on his latest "Mulder problem." Chuck listened and tried to give him some insights. But Chuck hadn't known Mulder that long; he was still focusing on the positives and the need to 'hang in there' with the troubled young man. Skinner had already run that course several times and he didn't believe he had it in him to go any further down the road to hell with Special Agent Fox Mulder. Despite Chuck's advice, he found himself on the other side of the fence. Entering the lobby, his doorman greeted him with the news that he had "a visitor waiting." Looking in the direction the doorman pointed, he saw Mulder slumped over on a couch at the other end of the room. Skinner sighed and walked over to the young man, thumping him lightly on the head. "Mulder," he said evenly. "Go home." Mulder came to consciousness quickly, looking up to see the large man looming over him. He heard the words, but failed to respond. "Go home, Mulder," the Assistant Director said again. "We'll talk tomorrow in the office." Mulder knew he couldn't possibly wait another day for this to be resolved. He shook his head slowly. "I . . . can't," he said simply. Skinner sighed again and looked away; he reconsidered, then quickly relented. "Okay," he sighed outwardly. "No point delaying this. Come on up." They entered Skinner's apartment a minute later. It was dark and the AD immediately turned on some lights. Mulder just stood in the entry way, waiting to be directed somewhere. He saw a large stack of files on the coffee table, and four boxes of other files next to it. He knew immediately what that meant; Skinner had gone through all the files, not just the ones he'd pulled out for him. Tears stung the back of his eyes and he forcefully willed them not to come. Skinner saw his eyes make the circuit of the room and come to rest on the boxes. "Everything I needed to see was in the files you pulled out, Mulder," he noted. "Thank you for that." The young man shrugged in response. He was rapidly sinking into a black hole of fear and depression. He expected anger from the Assistant Director, and punishment. So far, he'd gotten only a little sympathy and a whole lot of indifference. He was off-balance, not knowing how to respond. "Do you want coffee, Mulder?" Skinner asked him, moving toward the kitchen. "No!" he yelled, then immediately lowered his voice. "No, I . . . I just want to know. . . ." He hung his head. "I just want to know what you're gonna do now," he said quietly. Skinner shook his head, trying to shake off the mental cobwebs that slowed his thought processes. "Of course, Mulder," he said, returning to the living room. "Of course you want to know . . . . I wasn't thinking." He took a seat and gestured for the young man to sit down as well. Mulder merely stared at him, waiting, so he proceeded. "I've given this a great deal of thought," he said slowly. "I can't help but be impressed by the body of work. . . . And I note that all of the cases in question resulted in success, everyone brought a conviction or resolution." Mulder's heart leapt a little at these words. He waited for the AD to continue. "And except for the last one, the Murray case, all of these . . . . 'discrepancies' are more than a year old. Not that that's an excuse, but it says something," Skinner continued. Another part of his brain countered, "All in all, I think this is not as bad as I originally anticipated, Mulder," Skinner was continuing. "From the Bureau's standpoint, it's probably not that big a deal." Mulder felt his mouth go immediately dry. "But from my point of view, there's nothing more important than my being able to trust my people. And that's the rub, Mulder." He let out a heavy sigh, then looked directly at the young man who had instantly swung from relief to bone-deep misery. "I can't trust you." Mulder blinked in fear and uncertainty. He wanted to respond but his tongue refused to cooperate. Skinner continued. "We need to amend your report on the Murray case first thing, Mulder," he said, "then I'll request the X-files be assigned to another Assistant Director. Since the restructuring last year, they've been after me to off-load some responsibility. . . . No one will think too much of this. And you'll get to start off with someone new, with a 'clean slate,' so to speak. I think that'll be best for everyone, Mulder." The words hung in the air between them; Skinner tried valiantly to maintain the appearance of normalcy while Mulder struggled just to breathe. He felt a constricting pain in his chest; he was lightheaded and seriously afraid he was going to throw up on Skinner's rug. Finally, he found his tongue. "No!" he said slowly. "No, I don't want a 'clean slate.' I mean—" he shook his head violently. "That's not what I mean . . . . Please! You can trust me, you can!" "Mulder, this is a decision I've already made. And I really think it's the best thing for everyone," Skinner said calmly, rising from his chair as a sign the conversation had come to an end. "I just hope . . . I hope you've learned enough here to keep this, or something like this, from happening again. But that will be entirely up to you now." He nodded at the stricken young man and gestured toward the door. "You should go now," he said. "I'll see you first thing tomorrow, in the office." Unthinking, Mulder began to follow his instruction; he turned to the door and opened it, stepping out into the hall. Then he paused, closing his eyes against the grim reality of his new future, physically ill at the thought of where his career would go without Skinner. He knew suddenly, and with certainty, that the A.D.'s support, his backing and even his stern unwillingness to allow the younger man to get away with anything, were responsible for the fact that he still had a career at all. Skinner had watched him leave, blinking as the door began to close. Then he turned toward the window, unwilling to chance Mulder turning back and seeing the tears that sprang to the A.D.'s eyes. Staring, unseeing, at the rain hitting the glass, he felt the full weight of his decision and his shoulders sagged unconsciously. He was not an especially religious man but he found himself silently praying that he'd made the right choice. "Sir?" he heard from behind him. Skinner nearly went through the window as a familiar voice wrested him from his thoughts. He turned quickly to see Mulder standing there. He immediately guessed the young man must not have closed the door fully behind him. "Jeezis, Mulder," he snapped, putting his hand to his chest. "You nearly gave me heart failure!" "I'm sorry, sir!" he said anxiously. "I didn't meant to – shit! I can't seem to do anything right! . . . . I really am 'one sorry ass son of a bitch,' aren't I? I'm just a complete fucking failure--: Skinner watched him berate himself until he couldn't stand it anymore. He reached out and grabbed the younger man's shoulders. "Stop it, Mulder!" he said, 'just stop it!" The troubled young agent stopped and looked at him. "Please," he whispered, "please just give me one more chance. Don't turn me over to someone else. . . . I want to stay with you . . . . whatever you decide to do to me--" Skinner shook his head immediately. "No, Mulder, let's not drag this out—" "Please!" he continued, growing more agitated. "I'm . . . I'm begging you. Don't do this. I've don't want another AD! No one else will ever care enough to – you know what I mean," his voice trailed off but he held eye contact with the older man, unwilling, even unable to take 'no' for an answer. Skinner blinked. This was a Mulder he'd hardly ever seen before. Not rebellious or belligerent, decidedly not aloof and independent. He found himself wondering, once again, if there was another way. He turned it over in his head for the ten thousandth time and this time, the coin flipped the other way. "Okay," he said slowly. Mulder's eyes flickered and his expression turned hopeful. "Okay," Skinner said more forcefully. "But if you're staying with me, Mulder, we've got some serious things to deal with." Skinner looked over at the files on his coffee table; Mulder's eyes followed his gaze. "And understand me, Mulder, I'm going to deal with each and every one of those files." Mulder nodded, flooded with a mixture of fear and relief he couldn't quite sort out. But whatever Skinner meant, he was in to stay. He nodded again. The Assistant Director headed over to his couch. He sat down and motioned for Mulder to take a seat in the armchair. "Let's take this in chronological order, shall we, Mulder?" he said firmly. "You know these cases best. What's the first one we need to review?" Mulder recognized this tone of voice and proceeded to do exactly as he was told. He pulled out the Scalzo file and handed it to the Assistant Director. Skinner opened the file. "Oh, yes, poltergeists," he said. "This is the one where you failed to get the local office's permission to work in their area. . . . I know that because you refer to being contacted by the 'local authorities' not the SAC in the field office or the local law enforcement authorities by name. I missed it the first time around – who was the 'local authority' to which you refer, Agent Mulder?" "That would be the head of the local branch of the 'Psychic Research Society," he replied evenly. "Uhm, hmm," Skinner nodded. "A universally recognized 'local authority.'" Mulder bit his lip to keep from rising to the sarcastic bait. Skinner considered the offense for a moment, then looked at Mulder. "In the desk in the spare bedroom, there's a ruler in the middle drawer," he said. "Go get it, Mulder." Mulder had played this game before and lost. He got up immediately and retrieved the ruler. It was an 18-inch wooden one. He grimly handed it over to the Assistant Director. "This was a minor offense, and a first offense, Mulder," the AD said as he stood up. "A 'hand slap' offense. . . . Hold out your hands." Mulder's face immediately colored and he bit his lower lip harder to stave off the smart remark that flew to the tip of his tongue. Instead he held out his hands as requested. SMACK! Skinner hit his right palm. SMACK! Now his left palm was stinging. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! Back and forth, five on each open palm. Tears formed in the young man's eyes but he held them back with all the willpower he could muster. "Okay, Mulder, we're through with Scalzo. Let's never speak of it again," the AD said, putting the file onto the side table. "What's the next one?" Mulder reached for the next one, quickly counting the number of files left on the coffee table. He handed the file over silently. "Oh, yes. Rereading Agent Scully's report was instructive. She referred to the fact that the suspected eco-terrorist left. I gather from the haziness of your narrative on that issue that you let him go." "But he came back, just like he said he would!" Mulder replied, unable to help himself. "Yes, but you couldn't have known that it would go that way. And letting a suspect leave to get help is hardly Bureau protocol!" Skinner countered. "Not to mention that's a decision that should have been made in consultation with your partner and the 'local authorities.' And this time, there really were 'local authorities.'" Skinner dropped the open file on the coffee table and reached for the ruler. Mulder reflexively moved his hands behind his back. "No, Mulder," Skinner reassured him. "Take down your jeans." He pushed the coffee table back a little to make room to stretch out his legs and for Mulder to get himself over the A.D.'s knees. But Mulder was certain rebellion would not be a prudent response. He pushed down his jeans and dropped to his knees, positioning himself across Skinner's legs. The older man got him more properly positioned, pulled his shorts down below his buttocks, then finally spoke. "Oh, we forgot something last time, Agent Mulder! What's this spanking for?" He smacked the wooden ruler on the young agent's upturned bottom. "Oucccchhh! For letting a suspect go for help!" he replied quickly. "Ooowwww! And for failing to consult with my partner! Aaahhhh! And for failing to consult with local authorities! Owwwww! Owwwww! Oooohhhhhh!" After another ten whacks, the AD stopped and put the ruler down on the couch, next to Mulder's head. The young agent started to slide off his knees but Skinner clamped his hand down on Mulder's back. "Stay there!" he said sharply. "Let's see, what's next?" He reached over and took another file. "Now it gets interesting," he said lightly. "The Dandridge investigation. This was fascinating reading on second look. Very detailed and specific in the preliminary phase and again in the arrest and interrogation phase. But very hazy on specifics in the pursuit. You were alone during the pursuit, weren't you Mulder? Where had you ditched your partner?" Mulder was starting to get lightheaded, from hanging over the Assistant Director's knees, and he could feel his blood pounding in his skull. But he managed to curb his natural defiance to some extent. "At the motel," he said, just a little more sharply than he intended. "Owhh!" he cried, instinctively putting his hand back to protect his bottom as the AD smacked the ruler against it. "Move your hand, Agent Mulder!" Skinner thundered and he immediately complied. The AD brought the ruler down again on his already reddened bottom. "At the motel what?" he prompted angrily. "At the motel, SIR!" Mulder said quickly, receiving yet another smack. He was choking up and found even breathing came hard. He held onto the floor as the other man gave him 20 more whacks for his poor judgment and failure to follow procedures. At the end of ten, he slid Mulder off his legs and onto his own knees on the floor beside the AD. Skinner patted him on the head as the young man sought to contain the tears that were springing to his eyes. "That's good, Agent Mulder," he said. "Three down, only six more to go." Skinner stood and stretched over Mulder's head. He glanced at his watch, it was almost 9 a.m. "I don't know about you, Agent Mulder, but suddenly I'm starving," he said. He walked to the table in his entryway where he had dropped his keys. Picking them up, he turned back to the stunned young agent. "Put a move on, Agent," he said. "I'm buying." Mulder stood, hurriedly pulling his clothes back into place. Confusion clouded his features and he glanced nervously at the remaining pile of six unreviewed folders on the coffee table. "Oh, don't worry," Skinner assured him, "we'll get back to them." With that, he headed out of the apartment and into the elevator, Mulder running to catch up to him. Skinner chose a place a few blocks from his building where he apparently went often. He greeted the host and swapped pleasantries with a waitress named Molly, first introducing Mulder to the pretty young lady as his "best agent -- at least most of the time!" She gave Mulder a smile that would light most men's days, Skinner thought, but Mulder was apparently too preoccupied to appreciate the flirtatious looks Molly sent his way. The younger man occasionally squirmed in his chair and Skinner imagined he would have been happier if Skinner had picked the place closer to his building, the one with the padded booths instead of hard wood chairs. After a hearty breakfast of steak and eggs for Skinner and a half-eaten order of scrambled eggs for Mulder, they left and headed back to the car. Then Skinner appeared to remember he needed something from the drug store. Mulder followed along in a daze, wondering how he'd make it through this day. In the pharmacy, Skinner headed immediately for the hair care products. The AD chose a large, wood-backed hair brush, first smacking it hard against his thigh, as though trying to get a "feel" for the thing. Mulder turned bright red, wondering who else in the store might be watching and deducing what the hairbrush might actually be for! Skinner told him to "come along" and he stood as unobtrusively to the side as possible while the man paid for his purchase. Mulder thought sure the proprietor couldn't miss the fact that the purchaser obviously had no personal use for the thing. Skinner watched his most troublesome subordinate out of the corner of his eye and smiled to himself, noting that the bored owner didn't give the sale a second thought before he returned to his coffee and his newspaper. They reached Skinner's apartment just before 11; Mulder thought he was never so happy to be anyplace in his life, until he saw the six files and remembered the A.D.'s purchase. His heart sank as he watched Skinner take the hairbrush out of the bag and place it on the coffee table. "Come over here, Agent Mulder," he called, pointing toward the brown leather chair he'd become intimately familiar with in recent months. "Have a seat; we have work to do." The Assistant Director waited for him to comply, then requested the next folder. Mulder sighed and picked up the next one; James Robert Caulfield. A serial rapist he and Scully had helped capture. Not an X-file, he'd been requested on this one for his profiling skills. He handed it to the older man, then sat back while Skinner refamiliarized himself with the file. This one was complicated, with lots of detail reports. Skinner had signed off on the summary report Mulder had written, the one that failed to mention the fact that he had gone off on his own, leaving the investigation when the ASAC refused to follow up on a leap of faith Mulder made based on nothing more than intuition. He'd left them all behind but Scully had followed, placing her in danger from Caulfield until Mulder showed up barely in time to keep her from being his next victim. Her report noted his "save" but not how she came to be in danger. The ASAC was so happy to get the guy after failing for more than a year, he didn't make a complaint. And Mulder's report skipped over that one section. Skinner drilled him with questions that left no doubt he'd figured it all out. Finally, the AD sat back and reached for the hairbrush. Without a word, he crooked his finger to call the young agent over. Mulder sighed and rose, unbuttoning his jeans and pushing them down to his knees again. In a matter of seconds, he was back over the man's knees, his boxers again down below his butt, waiting. He turned out to be wrong on that assumption. After being asked and answering the question about what this paddling was for, Skinner began. He covered Mulder's bottom several times over, and had him in tears within the first minute. Some 30 smacks later, he finally relented, asking the squirming young man one last question. "Are we clear that I consider an omission of fact as bad as a lie, Agent Mulder?" he asked pointedly. "Yes! That's clear!" he choked out, "that's . . . very clear!" Skinner gave him a moment to collect himself, then pushed him off his knees once again. Mulder stayed there for another minute, then slowly rose and began to adjust his clothes. Stepping back, he nearly tripped because his feet were tangled in his jeans and he reached out to balance himself on the table. "Just take them off, Agent Mulder," Skinner growled at him. "We have a long way to go." Mulder swallowed hard and closed his eyes momentarily. Then he followed the A.D.'s instructions, folding his jeans neatly and laying them on the brown armchair. They moved on to the next file. This one had taken Skinner a little longer to detect. "It's the expense account, isn't it, Agent Mulder?" he asked. The younger man nodded miserably. "$300 for 'expert consultation,' Skinner prodded him. "I was on vacation when this went down. I checked my calendar," he noted extraneously. "When I returned, I must have failed to give this as much of a detail review as I should have. What was the 'expert consultation,' Agent Mulder?" Mulder found he couldn't meet the A.D.'s eyes. "She was an astrologist, sir," he muttered. This surprised even Skinner. "You do find amazing ways to spend the taxpayers' money, Mulder," he whistled. "Did she accurately predict what I'd do when I found out?" His head sunk lower and he shook his head. Skinner reached out and lifted his chin so that Mulder's eyes locked with his own. Then he crooked his finger and pointed to his knees. Mulder sighed and moved to follow his command. This one brought another 20 whacks with 'that damned hairbrush' as Mulder had privately christened the thing. At the end, he was sobbing openly and he made no move to go back to the leather chair. He just stayed on his knees, leaning on the coffee table. Skinner rose and went to the kitchen, returning with a large glass of ice water. He handed it to Mulder silently, then picked up the file they'd just reviewed and added it to the stack on the end table. "Five down, Agent Mulder," he said, "we're more than halfway there." He motioned for Mulder to choose the next file. This one was simple; in fact, Skinner thought it an embarrassment he hadn't picked up on it earlier. It turned out to be a file that Mulder opened without approval, spent a little time and budget on, then buried when it didn't pan out. Skinner couldn't figure out why Mulder had identified it until he had Kim retrieve Mulder's expense vouchers, too. He'd first charged the airplane fares to this case, then amended the reports to charge Training & Development when his 'dog didn't hunt,' trying to cover the fact that he'd never gotten the AD to sign off on it to begin with. Skinner considered this one for another moment. He'd fallen into the habit of letting Mulder follow his instincts and open cases without prior approval. That was a concession to Mulder's 'irregular approach' as Scully would say and the fact that his instincts were generally so damn good. But he expected the young agent to tell him when something didn't work out, and that was the part that got the A.D.'s temper riled. "Mulder, have I ever given you a hard time when one of your leads didn't work out?" he asked, then answered before the young man could. "No! I have always let you follow your instincts, despite advice and even orders to the contrary. All I've ever asked is that you keep me fully informed." he said angrily. "Do you have an explanation for falsifying this documentation?" The younger agent thought better of replying; in fact, he didn't have an explanation that sounded reasonable even to himself. He had done it mostly because he thought he could get away with it. And because he thought if he did get away with it, it would look like he'd actually taken some training and get that department off his back. He shook his head and waited for Skinner's next instruction. He saw the AD pick up the ruler again and felt himself being guided back over the other man's knees. Skinner tanned his already stinging backside and aimed a half dozen smacks at the top of his thighs for good measure before he was through. "I'm sure you'll want to go back and amend the records so it's clear you DIDN'T go for any training last year, won't you?" Then he waited for the sobbing younger agent to nod and gently pushed him back onto the floor. He patted the top of his head, saying, "Only three more to go, Agent Mulder." Mulder did not find this thought the least bit comforting. He took a deep, tear-soaked breath and put his head down on the coffee table. Skinner considered the idea of continuing and decided they both needed another break. He gave Mulder another moment, then took him by the elbow and brought him to his feet. "I can see you need a rest, Mulder," he said soothingly, steering him by the firm grasp he had on his arm. The surprised young man found himself staring at a corner of Skinner's living room. He started to pull back and felt the A.D.’s strong hand on his back. "Stay there until I call you," Skinner said firmly. He racked his brain, trying to recall the details from the remaining three files and found himself unable to remember anything other than the fact that there were three more 'fucking files.' He worked himself into a bout of rage in the next few minutes, letting the emotional storm wash over him without another thought, focused solely on his throbbing bottom and the humiliating position he found himself in. When Skinner returned, he sat down on the couch and picked up the next folder. He was startled when Mulder suddenly slammed his hand into the wall and stormed over to him. "This isn't fair!" he shouted at the AD at the top of his lungs. "It's fucking unfair for you to p-punish me for things that happened years ago, before we . . . before YOU decided to . . . SHIT! . . . before the 'deal' we made!" he yelled at the older man. Skinner let his words and rage dissipate without reaction. He stared at Mulder for a moment, then removed his glasses and rubbed the space above his eyebrows, where the traditional "Mulder headache" had come to rest. Mulder's anger had receded as quickly as it had come and now his heart raced with fear and worry as he waited for the older man's reaction. "You're right, Agent Mulder," Skinner said calmly, dropping the file folder back on the coffee table with the remaining two. "I see your point. . . . Let's work on getting you transferred to an AD who's 'fair.' Is that what you want?" Mulder felt his stomach lurch; the only sound in the room was his own shallow breathing. He lowered his eyes to the floor, then slowly shook his head. "No, sir," he said quietly. "That's not what I want. . . ." He reached down and took the file and handed it back to Skinner. For a moment he thought the Assistant Director was going to refuse to take it. Then Skinner relented and took the folder, and the act of faith in his judgment the gesture represented. He replaced his glasses and started to read. "Refresh my memory on Andrew Kenmore, Agent Mulder," he said calmly, starting to page through the file. When Mulder had finished his recitation of the facts, not even attempting to gloss over his several transgressions and subsequent actions to hide those transgressions, Skinner nodded. "Thank you, Mulder," he said, picking up the hairbrush and waiting for his subdued young subordinate to get himself back in position. Mulder did, and got another 10 smacks across his already burning backside. He breathed a sigh of relief as Skinner finished and let him down. "Seven down, two to go," Mulder said before realizing he'd said it out loud. "I'm glad to see you're paying attention, Mulder," Skinner chuckled. "Let's move on." The eighth file proved to be a tougher hurdle, though. Mulder had disobeyed not one, not two, but three direct orders from Skinner on a case some 15 months before. It was an X-file so the only data Skinner saw came from Mulder and Scully. Scully's reports focused on the forensic and factual information; Mulder's represented his 'left of center' thinking and an outrageous theory about what had really gone on. Skinner recalled that he caught onto one of the occasions of disobedience at the time and they had had it out in the A.D.'s office, with Mulder eventually storming out. Had he known about the other two acts of defiance, he might have been pushed to use the belt Mulder had gotten to know so well in the past 10 months. He was torn between an act of mercy, following a long day of punishment for the younger agent, or dealing with this blatant disregard for orders in the way he knew was most appropriate. Steeling himself against the former, he stood up and began to unbuckle his belt. "This one's serious, Mulder," he said firmly, "and I don't want you to mistake that." Mulder looked up at him in shock. Sure he could not stand any more, he began to shake his head. "I can't," he whispered, suddenly frightened and overwrought. Skinner took him by the arm and helped him to his feet. "Don't give up now, Mulder," he said gently, "you're almost there. In a little while, you'll have the 'clean slate.' We'll have put all this behind us." He guided the young man to the overstuffed brown leather chair and pushed him over its back. Mulder was already weeping as he was draped over the chair. Skinner pushed his tee shirt up onto his back and slapped the belt down hard on his bottom. "What's this strapping for, Agent Mulder," he said forcefully, following it up with another lick. "For disobeying you!" his agent said. Another lick. "And for disobeying you and for DISOBEYING YOU!" Mulder cried as the AD gave him several more strokes. Skinner let him compose himself for a few minutes. He waited for the young man to calm himself but Mulder was unable to pull it off, continuing to sob and mutter to himself. Skinner grew concerned about continuing and decided to give him another break. He helped Mulder to his feet and deposited him once again in the corner. This time, the younger agent didn't fight him, he just rested his head against the wall and closed his eyes. Skinner took himself into the kitchen and pulled a beer out of his refrigerator. It was now past 3 p.m. and his nerves were raw from the struggle to maintain his resolve and stay the course. He drank about half of the bottle before deciding he needed to get this over with now, or never. Returning to the living room, he saw Mulder had literally not moved a muscle. He was still leaning against the wall with his eyes closed. "Mulder," Skinner said, and the younger man jerked awake, pulling his head back, then bumping it soundly on the wall. "Ow!" he cried, reaching up to rub his head. "Don't hurt yourself, Mulder," Skinner said, grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling him away from the corner before he could do any more damage. "No, that's your job, right?" Mulder said testily, then immediately regretted his outburst. His face instantly lost all color. "No, Mulder," Skinner said lightly, ignoring his crankiness. "It's my pleasure!" Mulder relaxed a bit and nodded silently, just thankful the AD could keep his sense of humor through one more inappropriate response on his part. He knew in his heart not many Assistant Directors of the Federal Bureau of Investigation would have the aplomb to deal with him and the stuff that came with him. He was lucky to have landed with Skinner, however that happened. He took a deep breath and waited for Skinner to review the last file. Skinner sat down and put his hands behind his head. He appeared to be considering the situation and Mulder simply held his breath, waiting. Finally, the AD looked up at him. "Why did you cover up the third interview on the Murray case, Agent Mulder?" he asked. Mulder dropped his eyes before answering. "Because I disobeyed your order to close the investigation," he said to the floor. "And to come back to Washington." "But you solved the case, Mulder," the AD said. "I may have been a little ticked about the fact you continued the investigation after I told you not to, but I would hardly have gone ballistic over it. Especially not when your failure to comply resulted in the arrest of a double murderer. We've worked together a long time; how can you not know that?" The young man continued to stare at the floor, in silence. Skinner decided to wait him out. He dropped his arms and folded them over his chest. Finally, Mulder spoke. "I guess I knew that," he said slowly. "It's just that, I knew you were mad about the other thing . . . ." "What 'other thing,' Mulder," Skinner prodded him gently. "You know, about the fake suicide . . . and that I didn't tell you what was going on . . . . I knew you were still mad because you sent me away—" "When did I 'send you away?' the AD asked quickly. "Ever since it happened, first Phoenix, then Baton Rouge and San Francisco. I figured if you couldn't even stand to have me around—" "Mulder, I sent you out of town to keep you out of the 'gun-sights' of the brass until this thing blew over," he said forcefully. "And a little bit to keep you from driving Agent Scully crazy while she was recovering." Mulder glanced up finally, surprise and confusion in his eyes. "You weren't mad?" he asked. "I was angry at the time, Mulder, but, let's say the circumstances eventually showed your choices to be . . . valid," he said. "And I don't know too many people who could have worked their way through those circumstances and come out the other side in one piece. So in the end, I have to conclude you made the right choices, or at least the best choices you could make. . . . We all made the best choices we could, given the situation we were dealing with. A situation for which there was no Bureau protocol." Mulder relaxed, for the first time in many hours, and a small smile appeared on his tired, tear-stained face. Skinner watched him and thought he could actually see the thought process take place, the one that eventually brought him to its logical conclusion. That, if he had not covered up the third Murray interview, Skinner would never have known about the other files, and this day would never have happened. He watched relief turn to consternation on the young agent's drained countenance. "So. . ." the AD said. "Are we ready to deal with the Murray case?" Mulder nodded. "I don't need to reread it," Skinner said. "I got all the details from Assistant Director Cassidy," he said. "And Mulder, if it's not already clear to you, I do NOT like to hear about what my people are up to from Jana Cassidy. Is that understood?" The young man nodded again. Skinner rose, taking his belt from the coffee table. Mulder immediately turned and headed for the leather chair. Guiding him into position over the chair back, the AD tousled his hair. "It's almost over now, Agent Mulder . . . . Tell me what this punishment is for." He waited for the young agent to respond before beginning, a concession to the hard day Mulder had already had. "For disobeying a direct order," the younger agent finally said as the belt landed on his already blistered bottom. "Aaaahhhh!" he gasped. "And?" Skinner prompted him, adding another lick. "Ohhhhh! For covering it up! Owwwwww!" he sobbed as yet another stroke landed across the place where his butt met the top of his thighs. That one was meant to make certain sitting down was a sharp reminder of what the Assistant Director thought about dishonesty. "And for you having to hear about it from AD Cassidy," Mulder added, sobbing still more miserably. Skinner brought the belt down twice more in the same place, just to make certain THAT lesson was well and truly learned. "Okay," he said quietly, dropping the belt back onto the coffee table. "We're through now, Mulder." The young agent nodded and immediately tried to wrestle down the sobs that continued to come. Skinner thought they were as much from relief, and exhaustion, as the after-effects of the punishment he'd received. He rubbed Mulder's back for a moment, then forced the issue. "Get up now, Agent Mulder," he said a little more firmly. "It's over." Mulder pushed himself up from the chair and wiped his face on the sleeve of his tee shirt, his sobs settling into irregular hitches and hiccups. He automatically pulled up the cotton boxers and Skinner saw him bite down hard on his lower lip to stifle yet another sob as they brushed over his well-punished butt. "Mulder, you need some sleep," Skinner said, putting his hand on the younger man's back and pulling him into a brief hug. "You know where the spare bedroom is. I want you to rest for a while." "I'm not tired," Mulder replied into his shoulder, although it was clear he was. "I won't be able to sleep." "Then just rest," the AD said, beginning to push him toward the bedroom. "If you can't sleep, just get some rest now, before you head home." "No, I better go--" "I SAID NOW, MULDER!" Skinner said, loud and clear. Mulder jumped at his sudden change of tone and volume, then quickly nodded his head and went directly to the spare bedroom. When Skinner looked in 10 minutes later, he was sound asleep on his stomach, snoring lightly, a pillow bunched up under his head. The AD smiled and turned off the light Mulder had neglected to put out. Then he quietly closed the door behind him. Around 8 p.m., Skinner was watching the end of the football game and polishing off a beer when the phone rang. He grabbed his portable and was surprised to hear a dial tone. Puzzled, he looked around for the insistent ringing. He reached for the neatly folded jeans on the brown leather chair and pulled the phone out of the back pocket. "Hello." "Um, who's this?" a woman's voice asked. "Agent Scully?" he said, "It's me." "Sir? . . . . What are you doing with Mulder's phone?? "We've been reviewing the files," he said calmly. "And it's all right, Scully. . . . Nothing to worry about." "Oh, I'm so glad," she replied, obviously relieved. "You don't know how worried . . . well, anyway, I was concerned about. . . . I mean, is Agent Mulder there, sir?" Skinner smiled. "Well, actually . . . he's 'out' right now. . . . But he'll be in the office bright and early tomorrow. By the way, Agent Scully, I know you're coming back full-time this week and I'm scheduling you and Agent Mulder for a training program, a 'team-building' seminar. I thought that would be an easy way for you to ease back into a full-time schedule." "Oh. . . . thank you, sir," she said noncommittally. "Have you told Agent Mulder yet? You know, he's likely to consider having to attend a program like that punishment!" "Oh, well, I guess that's all a matter of perspective, Agent Scully!" he chuckled. "Good night!" The End