Home for the Holidays
by Cadillac Red
Disclaimer: Fox Mulder, Dana Scully and Walter Skinner et al 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: Seventh Season. Immediately follows the end of my "Take 2" Series
Rating: PG. Discipline, no slash.
Summary: Mulder and Skinner try to figure out what to do about Christmas now that Fox is an adult again.
FBI Headquarters
Thursday, December 23
3:48 p.m.
Special Agent Fox Mulder sat in his familiar chair, in his familiar office, steeped in the familiarity of a stack of X-files. None of the subjects could be construed as being remotely normal or familiar but that in itself held a certain comfort for the agent. He sighed and leaned back in his chair, careful to maintain his balance. Working this chair was a skill and he was a little out of practice at the moment.
His partner, Special Agent Dana Scully was not there. She had started her vacation this morning, taking an early morning flight to San Diego with her mother to spend Christmas with her older brother and his family. "I'll be back on Tuesday, Mulder," she'd said more than once before leaving. As if she were afraid if she didn't keep saying it, he wouldn't be there when she returned. And given the fact she'd been working alone for the past five months because of one of his solo ventures, her caution was not completely unjustified.
Mulder had spent the last ten days getting back in touch with his life. He'd reconnected with all his contacts and informants. Spent a couple of nights with the Lone Gunmen. Taken a long run over his old, familiar route around Alexandria each day. Gotten reacquainted with his video collection. Spent a lot of time in the office and out with Scully, investigating anything remotely X-filish that could be called an 'active case' at present.
All of these things had served to make him feel like a solid presence in his own life again. Up to a point. But there was still an aching void inside, a cold pit of emptiness that wasn't filled by all the familiar things he threw into it. He chewed on a pencil and stared up at the ceiling. It was devoid of ornamentation and he had a sudden urge to correct that. The pencil came out of his mouth and he hurled it at the ceiling, watching it stick in the white ceiling tile. Within a minute, there were an even dozen keeping it company.
Mulder was startled when someone knocked on the office door. He glanced at his watch and wondered who it could be. There was an informal holiday reception going on in the cafeteria right now, before everyone who was left in town departed for wherever they were going for Christmas weekend. The FBI was always open, as they liked to say, but tomorrow most of its personnel would be on holiday.
"Come in," he answered quickly. He stood immediately when Assistant Director Walter Skinner opened the door and stepped in. He left the door open behind him. "Sir! I-- I thought you'd be at the party. . . ." Recalling the AD's response to a similar pencil-throwing episode in the past, he worked hard to keep his eyes on the man and prayed he'd leave again before gravity did its job.
"I was," Skinner answered. "And since Agent Scully reminded me she was leaving for the West Coast this morning, I was pretty sure you'd be holed up in here. I thought I'd come by to . . . bring you a little holiday cheer, that's all." He was holding two plastic cups in one hand and he offered one to the younger agent. "It's Agent Delaney's top-secret secret holiday eggnog. Tastes suspiciously like there's brandy in it but he swears it doesn't violate the 'no alcohol in the building' rule. I have never questioned him about it. I consider it a Christmas miracle."
Mulder took the cup, nodding nervously. He'd never attended the holiday reception, although Scully always went if they were in the building. She'd mentioned the eggnog to him last year, he remembered. And she'd been giggling when she returned from the reception, another point he recalled fondly.
Mulder and Skinner had met in the AD's office a couple of times since the agent's return 'from long-term assignment' but this was the first time the other man had ventured into his territory in that time. At least that was how Mulder thought of the basement. But for some reason, Skinner's presence here seemed to threaten the tenuous sense of belonging he'd been able to regain here.
Skinner watched a series of emotions play across Mulder's face and began to think this little visit had been a mistake. He'd waited until now to even venture into the basement office, wanting to give the younger man all the space he needed to reestablish his comfort level. He sighed internally as he realized it hadn't been long enough, apparently. He'd hoped the impending holiday might soften Mulder's position.
"Merry Christmas, Agent Mulder," he said, raising his glass in a toast. Mulder raised his glass and took a sip.
"Oh, yeah," Mulder exclaimed as the eggnog went down, leaving the suspiciously familiar after-taste of a good strong brandy. "That is . . . a miracle, sir."
Skinner grinned, hoping that little smile was the first step. "Could even be an X-file," he answered lightly. "I'm sorry you won't be able to come to Danville for the holiday, Mulder--"
The other agent interrupted him. "I-- It's just I haven't spent much time with my mother since . . . well, you know. And I thought this weekend would be a g-good time to. . . ."
Skinner broke in on him, wanting to reassure him that he, and his family, were not angry or upset by his decision. "I understand, Mulder," he said firmly. "We all do. I'm glad you and your mother are spending Christmas together. It's just that . . . I have a bunch of stops to make tomorrow on the way to Danville. And it's bitterly cold. I don't think it's a good idea to leave Yoda in the car in this weather. So I was wondering if you could watch him for the weekend. . . ?"
Mulder's eyes lit with anticipation for the first time since he'd been abruptly returned to adulthood, at least the first time Skinner had seen.
"Sure!" he replied quickly. "I'd love to have him for the weekend."
Skinner was secretly pleased by the young agent's reaction, his enthusiastic acceptance of keeping Yoda was a first tentative sign he might be able to integrate his recent childhood into his life. Well maybe the second. Keeping the rabbit was the first, in the AD's mind.
Skinner suspected Mulder was having Christmas dinner with his mother but experience told him the two were not planning an entire weekend together. And it had been bothering him that Mulder would be alone for most of the holiday weekend. The AD's story about making multiple stops on his way to Danville was true but the part about leaving the dog in the car for long periods of time had been an exaggeration. It was meant to convince Mulder to take Yoda for the weekend.
"Well, then," the AD said as he backed toward the door to leave. "You have my key. I'll be leaving first thing in the morning. You can drop by whenever you want to pick him up. Tonight, tomorrow . . . ."
Mulder sensed a trap, unintended though it might be, and he stepped back into his safe zone again. "I . . . have something to do tonight," he lied. "I'll come by and get him in the morning."
Skinner nodded silently and headed for the door just as a pencil fell from the ceiling above them. It conked Mulder on the head. "Oww!" he blurted out before he had a chance to think. Then he saw Skinner's eyes slowly ratchet up to the ceiling, his face a stony mask.
Internally the AD was fighting back laughter but he didn't let on. "Well. Consider this a Christmas gift, Agent Mulder," he said dryly, dropping his eyes to look at the younger man. There was a slight twinkle in them now. "If I don't see you tomorrow, Merry Christmas, Mulder."
"Merry Christmas to you too, sir," Mulder responded. "And to your family." He watched the door close behind the other man, as another pencil dropped and hit him on the shoulder. He dragged his chair out from behind the desk and sat down on Scully's side. Then he picked up the cup of eggnog and toasted the emptiness. "Merry Christmas," he said again and swallowed down a lump of tears along with the spiked eggnog.
Crystal City, Virginia
Friday afternoon
Mulder used his own key to enter the AD's apartment. It was his first visit since he'd become an adult again and he'd been greeted by the doorman as though he were a long-lost friend. Carlos was a dog-lover and he told Mulder he'd been coming in to work an hour early each after and taking Yoda for a long walk. So the animal had not been home alone for the long workdays Skinner normally put in.
"Mr. Skinner, he pay me a little extra each week to do it," Carlos said. "But I'd do it for free. That Yoda, he a sweet dog."
The dog jumped up and down in excitement when he saw the door open and Mulder sank to his knees in the foyer.
"Hi, boy," he said as the dog continued to jump and run in circles. "I missed you, too." He nuzzled the dog for a while, rubbing Yoda's head and under his neck and his favorite spot of all, his ears. Soon the dog had turned over on his back, begging to have his belly rubbed, too. And Mulder complied, reaching behind him to close the door and then spending a good fifteen minutes right there with Yoda.
Mulder pulled a small Santa hat out of his pocket and put it on the dog. Yoda immediately tried to paw it off but the agent put it back on each time until the animal finally gave up and let it remain. "It's Christmas," Mulder told the dog. "You have to dress for the occasion!"
He rose and headed into the kitchen, looking for the dog treats he knew Skinner would have. Yoda loved "Snausages" and he would bet anything the AD had a supply of them. Which he did. He let Yoda jump for the first one, then instructed him to sit before giving him the second. It was a routine the two of them had developed and the dog recognized it immediately. He complied enthusiastically with whatever the younger man asked. Despite the fact Mulder was now twenty years older than the last time he saw him, the animal had no trouble sensing who he was.
"Sorry it took me a while to get over here," he told the dog as if he would understand. "I went to the office for a while and you know how that goes." The dog's tail wagged as if he did. Mulder didn't tell him the real truth, that he'd waited until he was sure Skinner would be gone. Somehow seeing the AD on Christmas Eve seemed fraught with the potential for problems.
The two of them walked back into the living room and found the AD had left Mulder a note on the coffee table next to the bag he'd packed for the dog.
"Dear Mulder," it read.
"I put some of Yoda's food and snacks in the bag, along with his favorite toys. And there's a present in the bag, a new chew toy. That's for Yoda, not you, by the way. (Very funny, Skinner! Well, actually, that is kind of funny . . . !) Your present is in the bag, too. Merry Christmas! Give my best to your mother."
It was signed the way Skinner always signed things, before . . . . "WSS"
Something about that annoyed Mulder and he dropped the note onto the table and looked around the room, trying to push down the feelings that were bubbling up inside him. For the first time he noticed the Christmas tree in the window and realized it was the one they'd picked up on the drive back from Sharpsburg a couple of weeks earlier. Skinner must have taken it from the McLean house. And decorated it with the decorations he'd taken out of storage for the first time since his split with his wife.
Skinner and Fox had supplemented that supply with some ornaments they bought together to hang on their tree. Beautiful porcelain replicas of Star Wars characters including a smiling Yoda. Mulder felt himself tearing up, remembering how he'd been anticipating the chance to decorate that tree with Skinner. The grown-up Mulder felt a surge of disappointment that belonged partly to Fox and partly to Mulder. Even as an adult, it had been many years since he'd decorated a Christmas tree. It would have been fun to do it this year.
"Get over it, Mulder," he said aloud, shaking off all the feelings associated with the tree and Christmas in general. He intended to make this one a non-event and sitting here mulling over old disappointments was not helping. He decided to take Yoda out for a walk before departing for his own place. He didn't know how many hours the dog had been alone in the apartment because he didn't know for sure when Skinner had left.
They returned an hour later and Mulder suddenly felt immensely tired. He hadn't been sleeping well since his recovery. Part of him thought he'd just slept too much for the past five months. As an acting parent, Skinner was a stickler for getting enough rest. And 'enough' in his estimation was far more than Mulder thought he needed. But his exhaustion could also be a side-effect of finally letting down, looking at a three day weekend with nothing to do. Suddenly overwhelmed by the need to sleep, and a sense that he shouldn't be driving until he had rested, he headed into the spare bedroom and stripped off his clothes.
There was a pair of sweats in the drawer that he'd used before and he slipped them on. Then he undid the bedcovers and got in, smiling as Yoda parked himself at the foot of the bed. Just as he had every night when Fox was sleeping there, before he and the AD had relocated first to Nantucket and then to McLean. The dog took his same place, same position. Mulder laid down and fell immediately to sleep.
He slept for five hours, waking long after darkness had fallen. The digital read-out on the clock said "7:03" and he found himself shocked that he'd napped for so long. He rose and got dressed, realizing he probably needed to take the dog out yet again before they left for Alexandria.
The next walk lasted a half hour and when he got back upstairs, Mulder decided he wanted to see the Christmas tree lit. Leaving the lights out, he turned on the switch that controlled the socket into which the AD had plugged the lights. Mulder gasped audibly when the tree burst to light. It was beautiful, a dazzling, shimmering thing lovingly decorated by someone who cared about such things. It didn't surprise him, knowing Skinner as he did now but still . . . . it was a sight to behold.
So now, what? You just head back to your cold, dark apartment and spend the weekend alone? There was not even a stocking hung this year, or a decoration or a Christmas card displayed. Mulder had gotten a few, from the all the Skinners, and Scully. And a card from his mother as well. But he'd left them piled up on the desk after opening them. The Christmas spirit just didn't live at his place this year.
He sat down, biting his lower lip in consternation. It didn't seem fair to Yoda to take him back to the undecorated, unChristmasy apartment. And Skinner would be gone for the entire weekend, at least until Sunday. So perhaps, just for tonight, he'd stay here with the dog. That way Yoda would have some semblance of a Christmas. Mulder nodded his head to himself, and unpacked the two presents Skinner had left behind.
Mulder laid the packages under the tree to be opened in the morning and went into the kitchen to fix Yoda's dinner and see what was in the AD's refrigerator. His own was bordering on empty so he was likely to have a better meal here than anything he'd prepare at home.
After eating soup and a sandwich, he helped himself to a beer and went back into the living room to settle in for the evening. The tree was glistening in the corner by the window and Mulder basked in its glow for a few minutes before turning on the TV. There was nothing but reruns and a lot of old movies. "It's a Wonderful Life" was on at least two stations and he was pretty sure "A Christmas Carol," several different versions, was showing on a half dozen different ones. He cruised through the stations, stopping for the part of the Dickens story where the Ghosts of Christmases Past, Present and Future showed up. Even as a kid, that part had been his favorite.
His phone rang suddenly and he answered it quickly. "Mulder."
"Hi, Mulder, it's me," Scully said warmly. "Just wanted to call and wish you a Merry Christmas." She told him her mother and Bill and Tara had gone last-minute shopping and she was home watching her nephew. "He's asleep now so I got a little break!"
"Well, I'm just sitting here having a merry old time all by myself, Scully," Mulder replied cheerily.
"I thought your mother was coming for the holiday--"
Damn! "W-well, she is," he stammered as he tried to come up with a story that fit everything he'd told her before. "But she won't be here till tomorrow. We're having dinner together tomorrow night."
"And you didn't want to go spend Christmas Eve with the Skinners?" she queried him further. "You could have driven back tomorrow in time for dinner. Or your mother could have gone to Danville. I'm sure the Skinners--"
"Well, I really wanted some time to myself, Scully," he answered too quickly. "You know, time to get to know myself again . . . after everything. It's been a long time since I've had a weekend to myself." There! That sounds like a perfectly good reason! Even Scully couldn't argue with the logic.
"Well, I see your point. . . . " she responded slowly.
Good job, Mulder! And she didn't catch the lie so you're home free! A self-satisfied smile worked its way to his lips.
"And I guess I have to admire you. After all the Skinners did for you, after all the AD did, you're not the least bit concerned about coming off like an ungrateful clod, are you? At least we know your independent streak came through it all intact!"
Mulder's mouth dropped open at her words, even though she had delivered them in a joking, jovial manner. But the gaping wound in his gut, and his long experience with Scully, told him she'd hit the target exactly where she intended. But before he could get his wits about him to answer her charge, he heard a baby crying in the background.
"Oh, that's Matty," Scully said hurriedly. "Well, Mulder, I hope you enjoy all your solitude. Merry Christmas! I'll see you next week."
With that she was gone and a dozen smart rejoinders sprang to mind as soon as she'd hung up. But a sense of the rightness of her words clung to the air around him and he felt the anxiety of the last few weeks crash down on him all at once. He took a deep, shaky breath and decided to ignore it.
He turned his attention back to the TV but nothing there claimed even a part of his mind. Mulder's mind was ever-active and it required a lot of stimulation to keep it occupied. Without it, he knew he'd spend the night obsessing about Scully's comment and wanting to call her back and . . . call her on it. And he knew it was a fight he'd lose so he decided to try another avenue. He flipped through a couple of old magazines on the coffee table but nothing there was even remotely interesting. Then he spotted a book on the end table. It was a beautiful blue leather binder and he picked it up, curious as to what it was.
It turned out to be a photo album and there was a note inside from Rachel Skinner.
"Dearest Walter,
I have been putting this together for some time. You know me and my photos! Well, I have created one of these for each of my grandchildren and this one is Fox's. It's been such a pleasure to see the two of you together, dear. I've always been proud of you, of the man you are. But it's been an unexpected joy to see you as a father, Walter. Your Dad and I are so grateful we've lived to see you become a parent. Because we always knew you'd be the best father in the world.
And we are so lucky to have Fox in the family. We have you to thank for that. I believe with all my heart that he was meant to be here but it took you, and him, to make that happen. Your courage and sense of responsibility. His trust and hunger to learn and love. We have all been blessed beyond measure and this book is just a record of some of those blessings.
I hope you like it. This one came together a lot faster than the ones I've done for the other kids but . . . . in this case I've already gotten to know and love the man this child will become. And that's another blessing for which I am grateful this year. Merry Christmas, son.
With all my love to you and Fox,
Mom"
Mulder felt tears burn the backs of his eyes and his hands shook as he put the note back in the front of the binder. His mind was screaming at him to stop and put the book down but his heart pushed him onward into the maelstrom of emotions that swirled within him. The first picture was a smiling baby, holding the long-eared rabbit that the Skinners had brought on their first visit to see him in the hospital. The next page held a series of photos of Fox at about eight or nine months in the bathtub, his hair wet, playing with a rubber Donald Duck and laughing at Rachel taking the pictures.
He ran through the pages and found he remembered each and every single moment Rachel had captured. Well, perhaps not the one of him and Skinner asleep in the hammock in back of the house in Danville. He remembered the incident though and felt a rush of emotions as he continued working his way through the book.
The Fourth of July in Danville. A family barbecue in Nantucket. The sandcastle he and Brian and Haley had made that won them first prize in a local contest. Fox on his bicycle, and on a skateboard. There was a school photo, Fox in his Wheatley Academy shirt and tie, and a class photo as well. Mulder had known Skinner bought a set of pictures but he hadn't realized the AD sent some home to his own parents. It occurred to him that he'd probably sent some to Mulder's mother as well. Just like a regular parent, sending photos to the grandparents.
Mulder pushed the book aside quickly, trying to get a handle on his roiling emotions. But the feelings he'd been repressing just wouldn't stay down a moment longer and he finally gave in and let the tears come. They ran down his face and blurred the lights of the Christmas tree but they wouldn't stop, not for a long time.
After a while, the weight of his uncertainty lifted and he knew he couldn't miss Christmas with the Skinners, with the AD. He was still not completely certain how all of this would come together in his life but one fact was clear. There was no excuse for not being in Danville with Skinner . . . At the very least, Yoda deserved to be with the AD for the holiday! H flew around the apartment packing up a few things for himself and the dog before heading out of the building. The clock on the dashboard read "9:29" when he pulled out of the parking lot and he knew he'd have to have clear sailing to make it by midnight.
He traveled for a couple of hours, counting his blessings about the light traffic and pushing past the speed limit a good part of the time. But his luck ran out about ten miles before the Danville exit. He glanced in the rear view mirror and saw flashing lights and heard a wailing siren. His was the only car on the road and his heart sank. "Oh, shit," he breathed as he pulled to the side of the road. "You're an idiot, Mulder."
The state trooper asked for his license and the agent pulled it out, along with his FBI badge. The officer smiled sympathetically. "Working tonight?" he asked.
Mulder thought about lying but it was Christmas Eve and some attack of conscience deterred him. "No," he answered truthfully. "I'm trying to get h-home for the holiday."
The officer frowned but then Yoda lunged across Mulder, hat perched on his head. He put his head through the open window and slobbered over the trooper's face.
"Hey!" the man laughed. "Well, I don't want to interfere with anyone getting home tonight. Just slow down, sir. It's gonna snow and the roads will get slippery and dangerous when that happens. Merry Christmas."
Mulder wished him the same, then he pulled carefully off the shoulder and continued his trip, careful to stay a mile below the speed limit at all times. He didn't want to push his luck. But he did take a moment to thank Yoda.
"Good job, boy," he said as they drove along. "I don't think my licking his face would have been anywhere near as effective!"
He exited at the Danville exit about ten minutes later. He saw the dashboard clock read "12:17" and suddenly a bolt of anxiety hit him again. What are you, crazy, Mulder? Showing up unannounced in the middle of the night? On Christmas Eve?
He drove slowly up the country road the Skinner house sat on, trying to decide whether he'd made a mistake. It had begun to snow and that left the dark sky strangely illuminated. Through the white haze of snow, Mulder could see the house sitting quietly amid the large oak trees. Only a couple of lights were still on and he pulled the car into the driveway, then stopped, unable to decide whether to drive the last fifty feet.
Inside the house, Skinner, Andy and Andy's wife, Eileen, were in the family room. The elder Skinners had gone to bed as soon as the family returned from Jean's house a couple of hours earlier. Andy's three kids were already sound asleep when they got home and they'd been carried up to bed immediately. Then Skinner and his brother and sister-in-law went about putting all the kid's gifts out, assembling what needed building and putting batteries in just about everything else. Now the three of them were trying to get up the energy to go to bed.
This had been an unusual Christmas for the family. They normally had a quiet Christmas Eve at home but this year Jean's son Doug had gotten married. He and his family were set to spend Christmas with his new in-laws but at the last minute Jean had felt bad about missing the holiday with hers, especially after Mr. Skinner's heart attack. So she'd cooked a beautiful Christmas Eve dinner and had all of her family over. As a result, the evening had gone on far later than it normally would have.
"I'm getting too old for all of this," Andy groaned from where he was sprawled on the couch.
Skinner smiled at him. "Don't go there, kid," he said wearily.
"Well, old or not, those kids upstairs are gonna be up at first light," Eileen said as she stood and headed out of the room. "And we have to be ready for them."
Andy nodded and rose to follow her. "Good night, Walter," he said as he headed out.
Skinner nodded and then went back to staring at the dying fire. He'd built it as soon as they returned from Jean's, to take the chill off the house.
He found himself wondering at the fact Mulder hadn't called tonight. Not surprised but a little . . . disappointed. His mother had quietly showed him a Christmas card from Teena Mulder that morning. Mrs. Mulder wrote that she was spending the holiday in Florida with friends. It didn't shock him that the younger man 'fibbed' about his plans, as his mother kindly put it. He'd been struggling emotionally with recent events and his behavior had been erratic. But he thought Fox would think better of it and come clean as the holiday drew closer.
Skinner had prided himself on knowing and understanding the kid, and always being a step ahead of him as he grew up. He was bothered by the fact he hadn't been able to predict his response this time. It was another piece of evidence about the distance that had grown between them.
He forced himself out of his melancholy and decided to go get the gifts he'd bought for the family out of the jeep. He had planned to have Andy help him with it but now it was late and he was on his own.
It was snowing hard when he went out and cold to boot. He hadn't put on a jacket so he jogged to the jeep parked next to the porch and opened the rear door. He lifted out the packages of wrapped gifts there. Those were mostly for the adults in the family and some things for baby Griffin. Then he lifted the lid to the storage area under the floorboard. He'd hidden Haley and Brian's gifts in there, just in case the kids looked into the jeep.
Skinner had been storing Fox's Christmas gifts in there as well and he paused for a moment. He hadn't had a chance to return them to the stores since Mulder had reverted to adulthood. He pushed the bags with Fox's gifts to the side and began removing Brian and Haley's gifts when something in the driveway caught his attention.
It was a car . . . . Mulder's car! He put the packages back down in the rear of the jeep and took a couple of steps down the driveway.
Mulder had been watching him from his car, nervous and uncertain about how to proceed. He'd finally decided he'd leave the choice to the fates, that if Skinner noticed him, he'd get out and go see him. But if he didn't, then he'd wait until the AD went back in the house and quietly back out of the driveway and head home. The fates had intervened and he opened the car door.
Yoda jumped out of the car immediately and ran up the driveway to Skinner, his Santa hat askew atop his head. Skinner squatted down to greet him. "Hi, fella," he laughed. "Nice hat."
He stood as Mulder approached and put out his hand. "Merry Christmas, Mulder," he said. "Glad you decided to come."
Mulder was suddenly struck with the need to minimize his actions, to make his three hour trip seem like a spur-of-the-moment decision to drop in.
"Well," he said, grasping at any straw he could find. "It's Yoda's f-first Christmas and . I wasn't really doing much. I didn't think it was fair to have him miss the holiday . . . just because he got stuck staying with me."
Skinner smiled. It didn't take much of an investigator to see through that story. "You're right," he replied. "I don't know what I was thinking. Why don't you grab your things and come in? I was just taking packages out of the jeep and I could use your help."
Mulder nodded, silently cursing himself for the stupid story he'd concocted. You're out of practice, Mulder!
It appeared that Skinner had bought it but that only meant the other man had probably had a lot to drink tonight. Or he was too distracted to think about that cock and bull story. He went back to his car and took out the bag he'd brought.
Skinner was already in the house when he returned and Mulder took one heavy bag of gifts out of the jeep as he passed and headed into the house with them and his duffel. Skinner was in the kitchen pouring milk into a saucepan.
"I'm making hot chocolate," he said. It was one of Mulder's comfort foods and the younger man looked like he needed comfort tonight. "Why don't you just sit down and relax?"
Mulder nodded, grateful that Skinner was letting this all pass as though it were routine. Then he remembered he'd left the jeep open and that there had been another bag of presents in there. He went back out as the AD busied himself in the kitchen.
The night air had grown frigid and the snow was crystalline and falling steadily. Mulder had taken his jacket off when he first went into the house so he hurried to the jeep and took out the last bag. Then he noticed that the storage compartment was open and there were some more gifts in another bag there. He began to lift it out as well until he got a closer look at the package on top.
It was gaily wrapped with gold and green paper and tied up with a gold ribbon. His heart skipped a beat when he read the card: "To Fox -- Merry Christmas -- Love, Dad."
He dropped the package immediately, as though it were a hot coal, and his eyes filled with tears that sprang from nowhere. Mulder was certain he'd stopped breathing and he had to force himself to look at the rest of the packages. All wrapped with the same paper and tied up with ribbons and bows. All address to him and signed "Love, Dad." His hands shook as he took one package out and stared at it, tears swimming in his hazel eyes.
After another moment, he found himself feeling as though the wind had been knocked out of him. Before he knew it and without conscious thought, he was sitting on the porch steps, package in hand, silent tears sliding down his cheeks. He knew it was stupid, hell, he felt stupid doing it, but no amount of common sense and logic overrode the emotional storm that held him captive.
In the kitchen, Skinner watched the milk begin to bubble around the edges of the saucepan while he pulled two mugs out of an overhead cabinet. He went to the pantry and rummaged around until he'd located a bag of marshmallow. For Mulder, the marshmallow was a necessity, not an extra in a cup of hot cocoa. Then he took out the cocoa powder and added a couple of hefty tablespoons to the milk mixture, just as it began to reach the boiling point. He transferred the hot liquid to the two mugs and placed a marshmallow in each. Then he turned back to the rear door, curious as to where Mulder had gotten to.
"Mulder," he called through the door once before his eyes fell to the figure sitting on the steps of the back porch. He walked out onto the porch and stood behind the younger man. "Mulder? What's wrong?"
The figure didn't answer but it didn't take long to see his entire body was shaking. Skinner walked to the top of the stairs and stepped down to stand on the ground in front of the other man. "Are you-- Mulder, are you all right?"
The younger agent sniffed and ran a hand over his face, turning it out of the glare of the porch light so his distress might not be so visible. But it was too little, too late and Skinner quickly scanned the evidence at hand. The open door on the back of the jeep, the package half pushed into the storage compartment, the package in Mulder's hand. All told him the cache of presents had been discovered. He sat down next to Mulder and spoke quietly.
"I didn't get a chance to . . . return all of those things," he said, then his voice turned lighthearted. "They're not really what you'd want now! But it's nothing to get worked up about. . . ."
Mulder nodded. He heard the jovial tone in the AD's voice but he couldn't quite get there himself. So he didn't even try.
Skinner waited in silence, but Mulder's only response was to begin to shiver. The night air was brutally cold and neither man was wearing anything more than a shirt.
"It's cold, Mulder," Skinner said next. "You're cold. Come inside."
Mulder nodded again but he made no move to comply. His hands shook as he held the package of what had to be CD's in his hand and Skinner began to lift it out of them.
"This is definitely not music you're gonna want to listen to now," the AD told him but he didn't release the package. Mulder's eyes were locked on the tag. "To Fox. Love, Dad," it read and those simple words tore at his heart and pushed him over the edge.
"I wasn't ready," he said simply.
"What?" the other man asked, having heard the words but not certain to what they related.
"I . . . wasn't ready," Mulder said again. "To come back--" His voice broke over the last two syllables and he bit down hard on his lower lip to stem the tears that were ready to overwhelm him.
Skinner's heart lurched as the full weight of what he'd heard hit him and his own legs felt like jelly. He sat down hard on the step next to Mulder and instinctively wrapped a muscled arm around the younger man. Mulder turned automatically into his shoulder, melting into the embrace and began to sob as Skinner caressed the back of his head.
"I know," the AD whispered. "I know. I wasn't ready either." His own voice cracked as he spoke and so neither man uttered another sound save for heartbreaking sobs from the younger man and soft soothing murmuring from the older one. They stayed like that for many minutes until the cold, and pending exhaustion, overtook them both. Without a second thought Skinner stepped back into a now familiar role.
"Come inside now, Mulder," he said firmly. "It's freezing and you're gonna catch pneumonia. I'll reheat that hot chocolate. Come on. Let's go."
He urged the other man to his feet and ushered him inside, not accepting any resistance. Skinner parked the nearly catatonic Mulder in a chair and put the two mugs of hot cocoa in the microwave for a quick reheat. Then he stepped into the laundry room just off the kitchen. His mother had clean towels stacked neatly on a shelf there and he took one back into the kitchen and toweled Mulder's wet hair off before draping the towel around his shoulder.
Next he took the hot coca out of the microwave and put the two steaming mugs on the table before taking a seat himself across the table.
"Drink," he said with authority and smiled inwardly as the younger agent complied instinctively. His eyes were blood-shot and red-rimmed and his manner was subdued.
"This is good," Mulder said quietly, needing to fill the silence with something.
"My special recipe," Skinner answered whimsically. "From my extensive repertoire of haute cuisine."
Mulder attempted to smile at the man's self-deprecating comment but it was a feeble attempt and he never raised his eyes from the mug. Skinner had a limited scope in the kitchen but what he made, he made well. His efforts were always simple and delicious, like the cocoa. Thinking about that, and the reason why he was so well-acquainted with the AD's culinary efforts, brought more tears to his eyes.
"Mulder-" Skinner began, and immediately the other man's body stiffened. It would have been imperceptible had he not known this young man as well as he did. But he noted the reaction and started again. This time he spoke warmly but authoritatively. "Fox. I'll keep calling you 'Mulder' at work and when we're with strangers. But that's it, pal. You're just gonna have to live with 'Fox,' from now on. I don't call any of my family by their last name!"
Mulder nodded and swallowed hard. "I guess I can live with that," he said. "The truth is, I never really got my . . . other parents to go for it either."
Skinner smiled. "I know." He paused, trying to decide what to say next. Then he decided to just take the bull by the horns. "I want to help, Fox but . . . I don't know exactly what's bothering you. You have to talk to me-"
"It's not that I don't want to," Mulder whispered, his voice sounding ragged around the edges. "It's just that I don't know what's wrong with me either. I'm trying to . . . to reconcile my 'real life' with everything that happened and . . . ."
Skinner nodded, a small smile touching his lips. He understood the younger man's confusion. He'd had a short struggle with exactly the same thing before resolving it in his own mind. Unlike Mulder, he was not given to overanalyzing everything.
"Let me tell you what I figured out then, kid," he said quietly. "It's all 'real life.' It really happened to you, to me. To all of us. So there's no point in trying to put the past five months in a little box and say they weren't a part of our 'real lives.' It wasn't a dream. Or a hallucination. We really lived every moment."
"But-" Mulder interrupted him, looking up for the first time. His face colored and he looked back down immediately. "I know it really happened but . . . I don't know. I'm not explaining it well. . . . Partly it's that I can't be sure if what I remember are things that really happened to me when I was a kid. Or if they're things that happened recently. . . with you."
"And what difference does it make, Fox? All of those experiences are a part of your life now. A part of you. . . ." He shook his head, trying to figure out how to convince him. "When I was driving up to Danville yesterday, I stopped at that woodworking shop Carlisle. You know the one. I wanted to buy something for Griffin. Well, the saleswoman was very friendly, and very talkative. And at one point she asked me if I had any children and I started to give her my usual response. But when I opened my mouth, what came out was 'Yes. One. A son.'"
Mulder looked up in surprise, finally meeting the other man's eyes head-on.
Skinner gave him a half-smile and shrugged. "Because as far as I'm concerned, that's the truth. The fact that your childhood passed so quickly. . . . too quickly, doesn't change the fact that it happened. And I wouldn't give up one moment of it, kid. Every day was precious to me."
Tears pooled in Mulder's eyes and he bit down on his lower lip again. "Th-that's a little hard to believe, sir," he said, exhaling forcefully. "Considering all the-the stupid things I did! And all the trouble I was-"
"Stop, Fox," Skinner said adamantly. "You weren't stupid. And you weren't a lot of trouble. You were a kid. . . . My kid. And I won't have you or anybody say a bad word about him, you hear me?" His eyes twinkled but he managed to keep a straight face because the point was important to him.
Mulder laughed finally. It was a teary, ragged sound but it did the AD's heart good to hear it. "But some of it was . . . pretty embarrassing," he said quietly. "You have to admit I'm the only agent you've ever supervised who actually wet your bed."
Skinner sighed with relief. This was the first time since Mulder became an adult again that they'd had a conversation that resembled the ones they had when he was a kid. Honest. Open. The first real peek back into the younger man's heart.
"How do you know that for sure?" he asked with mock seriousness and Mulder laughed again, this time it was a more natural sound.
The AD stood, taking the empty mugs off the table. "I think it's time for both of us to get some sleep," he said. He put them in the dishwasher and turned back to Fox. "Brian is sleeping in the study but I'll move him in with Haley-"
"Oh, no!" Mulder exclaimed. "I d-don't want to disturb him-"
"Believe me, kid," Skinner said as he put an arm around him and pushed him toward the stairs, "at that age, they sleep like the dead. I can vouch for that from recent experience! He'll never know the difference."
Mulder followed him up the stairs, then went to the hall bathroom to wash up while Skinner moved 6-year-old Brian into the big bed in which his sister was sleeping. When Mulder returned the AD had just finished putting new sheets on the bed. The younger agent had changed and he slipped into bed as Skinner held the covers up for him. Then the older man tucked them in around him and had just taken a seat on the edge of the mattress when it struck him what he had just done.
"Sorry," he said a little sheepishly. "Old habits, I guess . . . "
Mulder nodded. "I don't mind," he said softly as a yawn nearly overwhelmed him. "It feels . . . familiar."
Skinner chuckled. "Yeah, familiar is good, kid," he said. "I'm glad you're here. And you'll get to spend Christmas morning with us. You can be back in DC for dinner with your Mother-"
Mulder's eyes flew open and an anxious look suddenly covered his face. "Um, I-I--, uh don't really have to r-rush back tomorrow. . . ."
Skinner fixed him with a stony gaze. He knew that but he wanted to make a point. "You're not having dinner with your mother?" he asked quietly.
Mulder's eyes darkened with worry. "Well . . . that might have been a small . . . . exaggeration," he answered.
Skinner recognized the game but he decided to let it play out. "An exaggeration? You're having a . . . snack with your mother?"
Mulder's face took on a pained expression. "No," he said slowly. "Actually, I was gonna try and call her - around dinnertime!"
"Uh-huh," the older man said evenly.
Mulder sighed. "And as long as I'm already in trouble, I got stopped for speeding on the way up here," he blurted out as though he needed to get it over before he changed his mind.
"You got a speeding ticket?"
"No! Not even an official warning. The state trooper just told me to slow down and wished me a Merry Christmas," Mulder said. "But . . . I thought I should mention it." He furrowed his brow. "I'm . . . not really sure why."
The AD smiled. "Maybe it's because you're a basically honest person," he said.
Mulder gave him a lopsided grin, then it disappeared into a huge yawn. "Yeah," he said, "I can't help it. I think it was my upbringing."
Skinner cuffed him lightly on the head and rose, turning out the light. A dim shaft of illumination from the hall lit the small room . He turned to go but he turned back when Mulder spoke again.
"I didn't mean that as a joke," the younger man said softly. He had a sudden, urgent need to express what his heart had been holding in for the past weeks. "I . . . I know how much you and your family did for me and . . . Especially you. No one else would have done . . . ." His voice broke and he swallowed down tears that caught in his throat. "I appreciate everything you did, taking a baby into your home and putting your career aside to make sure I grew up again. And that I grew up right. I remember it all, you know. The tantrums and nightmares, the- the diapers and the toilet training. The messes and spills and toys littered around your apartment. I just wanted you to know that. I just wanted to say . . . thank you." The rest of the words stuck in his throat and he pressed his lips together to keep from sobbing.
Skinner walked back to the bed and sat down, pulling Mulder into a massive hug. The younger man's arms wrapped around his back and he hung on as though his life depended on it.
"You don't owe me any thanks," Skinner said huskily. "I love you, Fox. You're the son I never thought I'd have, not for a long time anyway. I got to experience it all, with the most remarkable kid, and on fast-forward. I wish it hadn't ended so soon but as far as I'm concerned. . . I'm the luckiest guy on the planet. And, kid . . . I don't remember any of those things you remember. All I recall is a sweet baby who fell asleep on my shoulder. And a charming little boy who made me want to rush home every day just to collect a hug before bedtime. And an amazingly bright teenager who grew up to be someone I'm so proud of . . . ."
Mulder's eyes were brimming with tears but his heart was at peace for the first time in weeks. Neither man spoke for a moment and the younger man began to be anxious about the long silence. He laid back down on the pillow and gave the AD a half-smile. "Is there any possibility your . . . . short-term memory loss will extend to forgetting about the speeding? And the little lie about Christmas dinner?"
Skinner chuckled, recognizing that Mulder was trying to squeeze some advantage out of the moment. "Not a chance," he said evenly, brushing back the hair that had fallen into the younger man's eyes. "I'll give you a reprieve because tomorrow's Christmas Day. But on Sunday, we'll deal with both those incidents when we get home. Plan on spending next week with me."
"God, nothing ever changes, does it?" Mulder said resignedly. His question was rhetorical and more than a little bit in jest, considering the earth-shaking changes they'd both been through in recent months.
"Some things will never change, kid! Good night," Skinner said as he headed for the door. It was nearly 2 a.m. and the house would begin to awaken in about four hours. "Merry Christmas, Fox. I love you." His heart jumped at the soft response he heard as the door behind him.
"I love you, too . . ."
Mulder stared at the back of the door for a moment, then a content smile appeared on his face. "Dad," he whispered into the darkness as he pulled the covers up and sank into a restful sleep.
Downstairs the Assistant Director was putting some additional packages around the Christmas tree. They were wrapped in green and gold and addressed to 'Fox.' Inside there was a NY Knicks warm-up jacket the boy had begged for. And a bunch of CD's from musical groups like Barenaked Ladies, the Dave Matthews Band and Smash Mouth. Skinner had written all their names down as Fox expressed a liking for their music, knowing the names would never stay with him if he didn't. There were some books about various topics of interest to the 19-year-old Fox been a few weeks before. Even if the young man upstairs decided to exchange everything, Skinner was glad he hadn't found the time to return them yet.
And one box held the Prodigal Son icon medal the AD had given Fox the year before. It had been found in the carrier that was left at his door some five months ago, the one that held an infant that turned out to be Fox Mulder.
They'd been through a lot together over the years, he thought to himself as he placed the wrapped gift under the tree. But somehow that medal had never seemed as appropriate as it did tonight. Skinner found himself smiling as he turned out the lights and went to bed. It would be a good Christmas after all.
THE END