Date: Sat, 30 May 1998

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Summary: First of three stories that fill in the blanks of 'Follie a
Deux'. This is Skinner's perspective on Mulder's apparent breakdown.
Spoiler: What do you think? Follie a Deux would be a good guess.
Category: V A no MSR (or M/SR, either)
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: You wrote this one for me, didn't you guys? I mean it,
it was written just for me. Well, these three are just for you. So I
won't infringe on your copyright.
Archive: anywhere. I will be sending directly to MTA and Gossamer
Comments: vmoseley@fgi.net. I will reply immediately unless the
puter melts down again :)
Special thanks to my muse in residence <G> Susan P.

Walter Skinner felt he was about to lose his mind. He found
himself in the awkward position of holding one of his own agents
down by means of a choke hold, while a former hostage and assault
victim stood beside him, offering to keep the situation private.

Fox Mulder had finally lost it. Skinner's stomach had hit bottom a
long time before and now was threatening to come back up.
Mulder had stopped squirming and was just staring at his boss, his
expression lost and blank. "I'm not crazy, sir. I'm not. I'm not," he
whispered over and over. "Look at him, look at him when he's in
the dark," the younger agent continued, his voice low and
conspiratorial. "He is a monster, sir. You have to believe me."

Skinner could see the calm before the storm. The fact that Mulder
wasn't thrashing around had more to do with his hold on the agent's
neck than from any self control that might be at work. With an
understanding born of years of watching men and women under
stress, Skinner knew better than to let Mulder up. Not till there
was a whole lot of back up in the room.

"Call an ambulance," Skinner growled over his shoulder to the
shuddering Mr. Pinkas. Pinkas nodded, eyes still wide and terrified,
but he reached around the two bodies now entangled on his desk
top and quickly dialed the operator. Skinner heard him place the
emergency call, heard him tell the dispatcher that an FBI agent had
become hysterical in his office. The agent was deranged, needed
immediate help. The words were like knives in Skinner's mind.
How could he have let this happen?

When Pinkas put down the receiver, no one made a sound. Mulder
wasn't moving again, he was just staring up at Skinner with a look
of betrayal in his eyes. Skinner was trying his best to let his eyes
convey more than just the anger he was feeling. He wasn't angry at
Mulder, could no longer afford it. He was angry at himself.
Finally, as he heard the sounds of the EMT's approaching the
office, he leaned down and spoke to his agent.

"It's going to be all right, son. You'll get help. I'll help you any
way I can." Nice words, too bad they were spoken a little too late
to really do any good. Skinner was certain he was witnessing the
final disintegration of Special Agent Fox Mulder.

"Call Scully, sir. Please, call Scully. You have to call Scully.
She'll find something in that autopsy, I know she will.
CallScullysirpleasecallhercallherrightnow!" Mulder's words were
starting to pour together and Skinner was reduced to closing his
eyes against the pain and muttering that he would, he would call
Scully.

The EMT's must have been apprised of what they were going to
find, because they approached the scene with the utmost caution.
A blond woman with her hair pulled back into a pony tail stepped
up close to the desk and looked down at the two men with
compassion.

"Hi. I'm Emily and we're here to help you," she said directly to
Mulder. He snorted in derision.

"I'm not crazy," he repeated, first to Emily and then again to
Skinner.

"No one said you were, son. You just need help," Skinner said, his
voice revealing the tiredness behind it.

"What's your name?" Emily asked, ignoring the previous
comments.

"Mulder. Fox Mulder. He's a Special Agent with the FBI,"
Skinner quickly provided. Mulder glared at the two of them
sullenly, still not making a move to throw Skinner off.

"And you are . . .?"

"Assistant Director Walter Skinner. I'm Agent Mulder's direct
superior," Skinner supplied.

"Mr. Skinner, can you tell me what's happening here?" Emily
asked, casting fleeting glances to the man on the desk.

"Agent Mulder is having some problems separating fantasy from
reality right now," Skinner told her, keeping his voice low, almost
hoping Mulder wouldn't be listening. That was impossible, of
course, since he was less than a foot from the younger man's face at
that moment.

"He's telling you I've gone postal," Mulder spat out and for the
first time, started to struggle. "He was almost attacked by a
fucking monster and I saved his ass. He thanks me by putting me in
a choke hold." Mulder struggles increased. Even though he was in
pretty decent shape for a desk jockey, Skinner wondered how much
longer he could keep the other man pinned.

"Monster?" Emily repeated, then pursed her lips and nodded. She
turned back to the two men who were with her and whispered
something. One of the men took his radio out and moved into the
doorway of the office, still in sight, but out of earshot. He came
back within a minute and whispered something back to Emily. She
started to dig through a bag and came up with an ampule and a
syringe.

"Mr. Mulder, we're going to give you something to help you
relax," she said, her voice calm and caring. Skinner swallowed
convulsively when he saw the needle. God, he didn't want to be
witness to this.

The moment the needle came into range, Mulder started thrashing
in earnest. Skinner quickly realized he had underestimated the
younger man and almost lost his hold. Mulder was stronger than he
looked and seemed to be getting stronger by the minute.

"No! Nonononononono!" Mulder yelled and bucked hard,
throwing Skinner off in one motion. Skinner landed on a chair,
tumbling it to the floor sideways. He was just starting to jump to
his feet when the two male EMT's rushed over and pinned Mulder
again, this time wrestling him to the waiting gurney. Emily stood
back, watching the scene with a detached air, until her associates
had the patient firmly secured onto the gurney.

It took just a minute to administer the injection to Mulder's hip, all
the while he was screaming and yelling for his partner. After what
seemed an eternity, he started to fade and soon fell silent and
somewhat dazed.

"Whadda ya give me?" Mulder finally slurred, fighting to focus on
Emily and then on his boss.

"Ativan," Emily said kindly, patting his shoulder. "It'll help you
calm down.

Mulder snorted again, this time with drunken amusement. "You'll
be sorry," he said cryptically and then seemed to think that was
tremendously funny as he chuckled for a few minutes. "We'll both
be sorry," he added, before closing his eyes and apparently falling
asleep.

As the two men, who had now been introduced as Tim and Larry,
readied the gurney for transport, Emily went over to a still shaking
Skinner.

"We're going to need some information," she said gently, putting a
reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"His p-p-partner has that information . . . his p-partner is his n-next
of kin," Skinner stammered out. He hated this even more than
what he'd just been party to. Hated talking about Mulder as if he
weren't there, as if he were dead. He hated the vulnerable feeling
watching the EMT's deal with a delusional Mulder had left him
with. He took a deep breath, forced himself to calm down. "His
partner's name is Dana Scully. She's a medical doctor and knows
everything there is to know about Agent Mulder's medical
condition. She's in DC right now, but I'll get her here as fast as
humanly possible."

"Would you like to ride with us to the hospital? Agent Mulder
might feel safer with you there," Emily suggested.

It was Skinner's turn to snort. "I wouldn't be so sure about that,"
he answered. Emily shrugged and started to follow her collegues,
but Skinner touched her sleeve. "Agent Scully would kill me if I
left him alone. I'll go with you. Just give me a minute to make the
call to her." Emily nodded and Skinner pulled out his cell phone as
he followed her out to the waiting ambulance.

Scully answered on the first ring. "Mulder, I did a full external--"

Skinner cut her off. "Agent Scully, this is AD Skinner."

"Sorry, sir. I was expecting Agent Mulder--"

"Agent Mulder has had . . . he's . . ." Skinner struggled to find the
words to describe Mulder's condition. Not usually a man at a loss
for words, the whole experience was profoundly disturbing.
"Scully, your partner needs you. Now. Go tell Kim to get you on
the next flight to O'Hare. We're on our way to--" Skinner stopped
and looked over to Emily, who was supervising the two men
loading the gurney. She overheard and shouted over her shoulder

"Calumet City Mercy Hospital."

"Did you hear that, Scully?"

"Yes, sir. Calumet City. Sir--what happened? Was he shot, hurt,
what?" Scully demanded. He could hear the panic in her voice.

"He's delusional, Scully--and violent," Skinner answered sadly.
"Just get here, I'll explain when I see you."

"I'll be right there," Scully said firmly, her voice sounding
determined as she now had something to do. Skinner was instantly
envious of her position. All he had to do was watch the scene
continue to unfold. Emily had pulled herself up into the back of the
ambulance and offered Skinner a hand up as well. He took it and
she pointed him to a folding seat, barely big enough for a child to
sit. That would be his perch while the ambulance was in motion.
He noticed that is was in the corner and quite possibly, the only
spot that could be considered 'out of the way' in the cramped
quarters.

Emily was doing a quick check of the patient, who was completely
zoned out. Mulder's eyes were open, but his gaze was unfocused
and his mouth slightly open. He would occasionally turn his head
and seemed to try and find something to focus on, but would give
up quickly.

"Scully's on her way, Mulder," Skinner called out just loud enough
for the younger man to hear. If the younger agent understood, he
didn't show it.

They hadn't gone far, and were just pulling up to an intersection.
Since Mulder was now calm--and drugged, Skinner reminded
himself, they weren't in 'emergency mode' and were keeping pace
with traffic. Mulder was turning his head back and forth on the
pillow, his face turning a pasty white. Without warning, he turned
his head toward Emily, lifted his shoulders as far as the straps
would allow and vomited all over the startled EMT.

"Shit!" Emily yelped, then rushed to unfasten the right hand strap
and chest strap that held Mulder fast to the gurney. With one hand
on Mulder's shoulders, and another searching blindly until she
found a curved bowl, Emily helped Mulder sit up a little as he
continued to throw up.

Skinner bit back the bile in his throat and swallowed several times.
So that's what he meant, Skinner mused. Mulder probably knew as
well as anyone that the medication he'd been given would make him
sick, but he'd been too drugged--or too pissed off to relay that
information to anyone. Skinner would bet his last dollar on the
latter. It was just like Mulder to use this as his own twisted sort of
revenge.

The violent retching had been reduced to small hiccups and Mulder
finally slumped under Emily's firm grip. "You gonna be OK now?"
she asked, and upon his nod she lowered him to the pillow and
refastened the straps. Amazingly, the agent had managed to avoid
hitting himself or the gurney. The only evidence of his illness was
all over the hapless EMT. She looked down at herself and sighed in
disgust. "You knew this was going to happen, didn't you?" she
accused him.

He gave her a droopy facisimile of his lop-sided grin and nodded.

"Bastard," she hissed under her breath. Mulder's grin got that
much brighter just as his eyes slid shut and his breathing evened
out. He was finally asleep.

"Is he always . . . like that?" Emily asked with a grimace as she
attempted to clean herself up a bit.

Skinner looked over at his agent for a moment. "Yeah, most of the
time," he finally answered. For some bizarre reason, the whole
little episode gave Skinner hope. If Mulder was still capable of
being--well, being 'Mulder'--then maybe he wasn't really that far
gone. Maybe there was a chance of getting him back.

When they arrived at the hospital, Skinner was separated from
Mulder and told to wait in the lounge. He wanted to protest, but
Mulder was still asleep and there seemed little reason for him to
remain at the agent's side. He agreed and sat down.

About half an hour later, a young man, tall with blond hair and a
deep tan appeared in the doorway. "I'm looking for the FBI guy?"
he said, searching the chart he was holding for some guidance. "A
Mr. Skinner?"

The Assistant Director stood up and the young man smiled and
walked over, extending his hand. "Hi, I'm Jerry Kasper, I'm the
psych resident on call today. I understand you came in with Agent
Mulder?"

"Yes, I'm his boss. How's he doing?" Skinner asked, tamping
down on the anxiety that had crept up on him when the doctor
appeared.

"Let's take a seat, Mr. Skinner," Dr. Kasper said and led the way to
a relatively quiet corner in the busy emergency waiting room.
"Sorry, I don't have an office on this floor and I'd just as soon have
my answers now than later. Would you like some coffee?"

"No, thank you, I'm just a little concerned about my agent. How is
he doing?" Skinner asked again.

"Well, he woke up, which is quite a feat considering he had a good
dose of Ativan in his system. He's a little dehydrated due to the
emesis, but we've started him on an IV--it's just easier that way. I
understand from Em, the EMT that he had problems from the
medication. I'd love to get his medical chart and find out if he's
had better luck with other tranqs."

"His partner could tell you all that, she's on her way here from DC.
I expect her within the next couple of hours," Skinner answered
impatiently. So far, he had no more information than he had before
the doctor had entered the room. It was starting to bug the hell out
of him. "So, aside from the dehydration, how is my agent, Dr.
Kasper?"

The young doctor winced at the authoritative tone the AD had
taken. "Mr. Skinner, your agent, as you call him, was brought in
because he was exhibiting violent and delusional behavior.
Unfortunately, since waking, he's decided to stonewall us until--"
he looked quickly at the chart again, "a 'Dana Scully' shows up.
Would she be the awaited partner?"

"Yes, she is. She's a medical doctor and a forensic pathologist."

"Well, Agent Mulder refuses to speak with anyone on staff until she
arrives. As for his behavior, he's groggy from the Ativan, but he
seems to be relatively calm at the moment. I stress 'at the
moment'--it's impossible to tell what might trigger another episode.
I would appreciate it if you could give me a little background here.
Exactly what did Agent Mulder do that caused you to call the
paramedics in the first place? I have Em's account of how he
reacted when she arrived on the scene, but that's only half the
story. I need more to go on."

Skinner nodded and thought hard for a moment. "I was called late
last night, after Agent Mulder became involved in an . . . incident.
Agent Mulder, without my knowledge, had begun surveillance on a
man who had been held at gunpoint in a hostage situation early
yesterday. Agent Mulder was also held captive at that time. The
crisis was resolved, but only after Agent Mulder was physically
assaulted and placed himself in the direct line of fire to save a man's
life. He was witness to the execution of one individual before the
SWAT team was able to secure the situation."

"I noticed a nasty contusion on Agent Mulder's mouth and jaw.
Were those from the hostage crisis? They don't appear to be
recent, probably a day old or so," Dr. Kasper said while checking
the chart in his hand.

"That was from yesterday. The gunman hit Agent Mulder in the
face with his weapon. He was treated at the scene. After the
standard debriefing, Agent Mulder returned to DC and I was under
the impression that he was at his home, resting after the ordeal. I
found out later that he came back to Chicago, without my
knowledge or permission. He began following the man he had
previously almost given his life to save. While following this
individual, Agent Mulder entered the home of a third individual,
broke that woman's window, brandished a gun and accused the first
individual of being a . . .a monster."

Dr. Kasper looked up from his writing to give Skinner a
questioning stare. "Monster? As in--"

"As in _monster_," Skinner exclaimed in exasperation. "The
embodiment of evil, misshapen, not of human form. Agent Mulder
was not able to give a definitive description, but he claimed that
only he could see the 'monster'--that the individual was capable of
'masking' his true appearance to most of us. Agent Mulder went
on to claim that the monster was able to turn humans into . . .
zombies."

"Like on Creature Features?" Kasper asked, and even though the
question seemed light-hearted, he asked it with all seriousness.

"I would assume so. Yes," Skinner replied. "I attempted to
persuade Agent Mulder that he was mistaken. The woman whose
home Agent Mulder invaded last night was ready to press charges,
she was very concerned that someone in Agent Mulder's mental
state would be allowed to carry a gun. The first individual, the
purported 'monster', was very understanding. He readily
acknowledged that Agent Mulder saved his life during the hostage
crisis and he was intent on persuading the woman not to pursue the
matter. He wanted it handled privately. While we were discussing
the matter, Agent Mulder again accused the man, to his face, of
being a monster, of stealing people's souls. Agent Mulder pulled
his gun and appeared ready to shoot the man. I was able to restrain
Agent Mulder, forced him to release the weapon and we called for
medical assistance."

"Has Agent Mulder ever displayed this kind of violent behavior
before," Kasper asked, still writing.

Skinner licked his lips and swallowed. It wasn't a subject he really
wanted to bring up, but it might affect Mulder's treatment and
ultimately, his recovery. "Yes. Three years ago, Agent Mulder
attacked me without provocation outside my office in the
Headquarters. We later uncovered that the water in his apartment
had been poisoned, and he was acting under the influence of
psychotropic agents."

"Is it possible that he could have been poisoned this time?" Kasper
suggested.

Skinner thought for a moment. "Possible, but unlikely. Still, it
wouldn't hurt to look."

Kasper nodded. "I've taken the liberty of ordering a tox screen
already. We should have the results later tonight. Until then, from
what you've told me, I think we're safe assuming that this is not an
isolated incident, and Agent Mulder should be admitted to our
secure ward for observation."

"I'm not his next of kin, I can't sign off on that," Skinner said flatly.
"You'll need to talk that over with Agent Scully."

"Given the fact that Agent Mulder attacked man with a deadly
weapon, I think I can keep him for 24 hours without sign off. I'm
pretty sure Agent Scully, if she's any kind of a doctor, will see the
wisdom of erring on the safe side. Please tell the nurse at the desk
the moment she arrives. I really want to talk to her, especially if
she's aware of the previous incident from three years ago."

"She is. And I'm sure she'll be anxious to talk to you, as well."

"I can understand your hesitation, Mr. Skinner, but I still think it's a
good idea to keep him overnight, if just to rectify the dehydration.
I'll have him moved upstairs. We can always release him if Dr.
Scully can persuade me of another course of treatment."

Skinner swallowed, but didn't object. If the truth be told, he was
just as happy to keep Agent Mulder in the hospital until the whole
matter could be sorted out. Kasper took his silence as agreement
and left the room.

end of part one

*****

Scully arrived two hours later, out of breath from running. She saw
Skinner the minute she entered the lounge and hurried over to him.

"Where's Mulder? What happened? You said he was delusional
and violent? How is he now?"

"Agent Scully, sit down, take a breath," Skinner ordered and when
she looked like she was going to balk, he gave her a stern look.
"One agent in a partnership on the hotseat is enough for one day,
don't you think, Scully?"

She chewed her lip, but nodded. Purposefully avoiding his gaze,
she walked over to the nearest bank of chairs and sat down, waiting
for him to follow. He went over and asked the nurse to notify Dr.
Kasper that Scully had arrived and then walked over and took the
seat next to her.

"First of all, Agent Mulder has been taken to the secure ward. I've
found out it's on the eighth floor and at the moment, only
immediate family is allowed visitation rights." At her startled look,
he held up his hand. "For all intents and purposes, that means you.
I have not called Mrs. Mulder, and frankly, I would rather avoid
that if I can. I don't think it would serve any useful purpose at this
time. Unless you feel otherwise?"

"No, I don't want to call her on this either. Not till I have a handle
on exactly what is happening," Scully agreed.

"As for what happened, I was witness to Agent Mulder attacking
Mr. Pinkas and his accusation that Mr. Pinkas is a monster. Scully,
he was crazy--it's the only word that describes it. He shoved me
aside, and if I hadn't tackled him, I have no doubt he would have
shot Pinkas in cold blood right in front of me." Skinner stood up
and paced for a second before turning on Scully. Her stunned
silence was more than he could take. "Damn it, Scully, I asked you
yesterday to apprise me of Agent Mulder's mental state and you
chose to avoid the question. You had the opportunity then to tell
me if there was something like this on the horizon, and you didn't.
I can't help but put at least part of the blame for Agent Mulder's
outburst and hospitalization at your feet," he concluded angrily.

Scully went white and then bright red. "Sir, with all due respect, I
had no idea--"

Skinner cut her off in mid sputter. "Can the alibis, Scully. You
know as well as I do that Mulder has been under extreme stress
recently. If I'm not mistaken, you are the same individual who was
in my face just two weeks ago about sending Mulder out on an
undercover operation without your knowledge. Now, I feel
justified in accusing you of witholding information. You should
have told me yesterday that Agent Mulder had these delusions
concerning Mr. Pinkas!"

Scully closed her eyes, obviously searching for a response. "Sir. In
many, if not most of our investigations, there are many times that
Agent Mulder's actions would be called into question. I have
learned, through time and experience, that 99 times out of 100, his
actions are justified. At no time did I feel that he was acting
irrationally or might be a danger to himself or others."

"Well, I think we just hit the one hundredth time, Agent Scully.
And now we have to deal with the mess that is left behind."
Skinner was angry, but not just at Scully. He'd had his suspicions
the day before, he'd seen the way Mulder was acting, and he'd
done nothing. His inaction might have cost a young man his life.
Mulder might not be dying in the generally accepted medical sense
of the word, but losing his mind would inevitably lead to his death,
Skinner was sure of it.

Scully was about to say something in her own defense when Dr.
Kasper entered the room and saw them talking. He came over.

"This must be the missing Agent Scully," Kasper said, extending his
hand. He didn't notice the grimace that came to the AD's face at
his description of the young woman. "I'm Dr. Kasper, I'm treating
your partner. I understand you can give me some information."

"Yes, I can. But first, how is Agent Mulder? Is he awake?" Scully
asked.

Kasper frowned. "He's in and out. Mostly asleep and when he's
awake, he's still pretty groggy. I suspect it's more than just the
Ativan--"

"You used Ativan? He has trouble with that," Scully interjected
quickly. Both Skinner and Kasper nodded.

"We found that out in the ambulance," Skinner said dryly.

Scully couldn't stop the smile that tugged at her mouth. "Did he hit
you?" she asked with a smirk.

"No, I was too far out of range. The poor EMT got the brunt of
it."

"He probably did it on purpose," Scully muttered, not intending to
be heard.

Skinner moved in closer and whispered in her ear. "Yes, he did."
Scully had to bite her lip to stiffle the laugh.

"Well, now that we know that, what do you suggest we use, Agent
Scully?" Kasper asked, not quite finding the humor in the situation.

"Valium works best. But I'm concerned about the grogginess.
How much did you give him?" Scully asked. Kasper handed her
Mulder's chart and she seemed more perplexed, then appeared to
come to a realization. Skinner picked up on it.

"What is it, Scully?"

"Sir, I don't think Mulder got any sleep at all last night. And he
had a traumatic day yesterday. He's exhausted."

"Could that have caused his outburst? The violence?" Skinner
asked, hoping that it would be that simple.

Scully's eyes dropped to the chart, not looking at her boss. She
shifted her weight from one foot to the other, she was
uncomfortable with whatever insight she had. "No sir, it would
not. When Mulder goes without sleep, which is often, he can get
cranky, but never violent." Scully finally brought her eyes up to
meet Skinner's. "It's more than that, sir. I'm afraid it's much more
serious than that."

Skinner's heart fell. If anything, he had counted on Scully to bring
some hope, some light to this situation with Mulder. Skinner had
long considered Mulder a pain in the ass, but he was the best
damned pain in the ass the Bureau had and not someone who could
be tossed aside like so much garbage. No one is unexpendable,
Skinner had that driven into him in Vietnam, but Mulder's
'retirement' from the Bureau would mean lives, loss of life in many
cases yet to come. Skinner hated to think of the Bureau without
the maverick agent. He wasn't real sure he liked thinking of his
own life without someone like Mulder to keep him on his toes.

Scully and Kasper were discussing the possiblity of drugs in
Mulder's system when the AD came back from his own musings.
"I'd like to see him," he blurted out and both doctors turned to
look at him.

"Excuse me?" Kasper said, and Scully was giving him a questioning
look as well.

"Sir, he's asleep. And judging from what you've told me, that's
probably the best thing right now. He's not up to making a
statement," Scully said evenly, obviously hoping to talk him out of
any lengthy visits with her partner.

"Scully," Skinner sighed, running a hand over his head. "I don't
want to question to him, I don't want to wake him up. I just want
to see him. Is there a problem with that?" he asked crossly.

Scully swallowed and looked over to Kasper. The young doctor
looked equally perplexed at the AD's request, but shrugged. "It's
not exactly policy, but since Agent Mulder's immediate family isn't
present, I guess we can stretch the rules a little. But just for a few
minutes, and only if you agree not to wake him."

Skinner nodded, silently chaffing under the doctor's stern voice.
He had no intention of causing Mulder further harm. If anything,
he wanted to help him.

It was a long way up to the eighth floor. The hospital Muzak was
annoying and Skinner couldn't keep his mind from wandering down
dangerous paths. Hadn't he seen this coming for some time?
Wasn't only a year ago that Agent Mulder had run off to have holes
drilled in his head. Not the actions of a sane man, by any stretch of
the imagination. And yet, Skinner had kept him on active duty
status. He'd stood by and watched, time after time, when Mulder
had put his life, and his partner's life on the line. Skinner had even
aided and abetted when Mulder had gone off in reckless pursuit of a
cure for his partner's cancer. If Mulder had now gone insane,
wasn't in Walter Skinner who was guilty, if even just remotely, of
taking his sanity from him?

The elevator doors opened and Skinner stepped out into a near
silent ward. Double fire doors greeted him down the hallway to the
right, just where he'd been instructed to go. He opened one of the
doors and stepped into another hallway, then approached the nurses
station. A middle aged nurse with a pleasant smile looked up at
him and asked his name and who he was there to visit. Skinner told
her, his voice just above a whisper. She smiled again and got out of
her chair, digging into her pocket for a large key ring. "Mr. Mulder
is in here," she said, walking just a few steps to the first door on the
right of the hallway.

While she was unlocking the door, Skinner had a chance to look
around. He'd always imagined psych wards as being something like
prison. This ward didn't look like a prison. The hallway walls
were bright with framed paintings hanging here and there. The
nurses station sported flowers, just like on the other floors. But
here, no doors stood open, expecting visitors. Here, the visitors
had to be cleared by the floor nurse, and the doors had to be
opened with her keys. Walter Skinner seldom felt fear, but he felt
fear in that hallway.

The door swung open with a creak and Skinner followed the nurse
inside. A curtain was drawn around the bed and with a flip of her
wrist, she pulled it back allowing Skinner to see the patient in the
bed. "The call button is right there," she whispered, pointing to a
button on the wall. "He's restrained so I don't think you'll have
any problems, but if you do, call me immediately." With a small
smile, she left, closing the door behind her.

The Assistant Director stood there, surveying the person in the bed.
It almost didn't look like Fox Mulder. It looked like a much
younger Fox Mulder, a kid. Someone about 20 or so. Skinner had
met Mulder once when he first entered the Academy. He'd heard
the stories, the reputation Mulder had even then and had been
anxious to meet the life sized version of the myth. He hadn't been
disappointed, just surprised. Mulder had been cockier than he'd
been told. And sharper than his reputation, which was considerable
in it's own right.

Now, Skinner got another view of his agent. This was not a cocky,
arrogant maverick agent. The young man asleep before him had
seen more than his fair share of tragedy, heartache and pain in his
life. This young man had faced demons and monsters few others
could have survived and continued to do so everyday. This young
man had kept a tight grasp on a fragile thread of sanity for as long
as Skinner had known him. It was almost impossible to believe that
the thread had finally broken.

There was a chair near the door and as quietly as possible, Skinner
moved it over to sit next to the bed. He sat on it, taking deep
breaths. He felt nervous as hell and just couldn't calm down. His
palms were slick with sweat and he could feel more sweat sliding
down his back. For his part, Mulder didn't move a muscle, just
kept sleeping. Skinner leaned forward, elbows on knees, finger
steepled under his chin.

He remembered other young men he'd known. Fresh off the plane
from the states, the shine from boot camp still on their shoes. Most
of them believed that their drill instructors had taught them
everything they needed to know about life in the jungles of
Southeast Asia. Many of them never made it back to the States
alive. Those young men had been cocky, too. And then they'd
become fodder for the VC and the napalm.

When he'd heard that Mulder had pulled strings to get assigned to
the X files, Skinner had almost laughed. It sounded too much like a
'section eight'. Act like you're crazy and they send you home. But
he had sensed Mulder wouldn't do something like that. As a few
more of Patterson's 'stable' survived to move up in rank, Skinner
had been horrified at some of the stories coming out of the
Behavioral Sciences Unit. He'd never known that some of the men
who had 'washed out' had done so with drug and alcohol problems,
often times with Patterson's knowledge. That some of them had
actually ended up in psychiatric care. And that apparently, they
were the lucky ones. Suicide had been the answer on more than
one occasion. Skinner decided that if Mulder needed the X files as
an excuse to save his own sanity, so be it and more power to him.

But the X files had brought their own demons to the young man.
Mulder's medical leaves before the X files had amounted to one
nasty bout of bronchial pneumonia and a short hospital stay due to
a pulled groin muscle--the result of a fierce interdepartmental
basketball game. Since transfering to the basement, Skinner had
used up his allotment of medical leave forms just on the two agents
of the X files division alone--not counting Scully's cancer. And
that was with Scully doing the quick and dirty patch up jobs three
times out of five.

Through it all, Mulder had survived. Through it all--Scully's
disappearance, her near death, his own father's murder, Scully's
sister's murder and her cancer and all the dozens of cases that they
had investigated and solved--Mulder had maintained his balance, his
center. Mulder was a survivor--of that, Walter Skinner was certain.
Skinner just needed to convince Mulder of that fact.
It was too hard to keep quiet. Skinner leaned closer to the bed,
keeping his voice low. "Mulder, I want you to listen to me. I can't
begin to explain your actions today. To be perfectly honest, I think
that you'd have a pretty hard time convincing me that you knew
what you were doing. As hard as it might be for you to accept,
though, I don't want to believe that you've lost your mind. It may
have been a long time coming, but I've learned to trust your
judgement. I think you are way off base this time, but if you can
prove any of what you claim, I'll listen. I swear it."

He reached over and gently grasped the limp hand that lie bound by
the web strap. "Just hang in there, Mulder. Just hang on. Give me
something I can work with, and I'll do everything in my power to
make sure you're allowed back."

Although the sleeping man never awakened, the hand tightened
around Skinner's fingers. "I'll take that as a promise, Agent
Mulder. I'll be looking forward to your return."

Feeling better than he had all day, Walter Skinner got up and
quietly left the room.

the end

Vickie

"Your ability to juggle many tasks will take you far."

My fortune cookie, Feb. 28, 1998