#skinnerfic

[tracfone]

Despite being the origin of the term flanderization, Ned Flanders is one of the Simpsons characters that has more linear character development than most and things happen to him that are permanent lol

[scenes-in-between]

John Doe

Skinner: Sir, Agent Reyes is still in San Antonio. She was raised in Mexico. She could offer the Federal Police some on-site help.

Kersh: She can help them all she wants. But from this side of the border.

“Sir, with all due respect, that’s not--”

“My decision on this matter is final,” Kersh says, Skinner’s jaw clenches even tighter. “There is nothing Agent Reyes could do in Mexico that she cannot do from Texas. The field office in San Antonio has telephones, and they have fax machines, as do, I am certain, the offices of the Federal Police. Agent Reyes is free to avail herself of these tools until such time as we have concrete information about Agent Doggett’s exact whereabouts and condition. When that happens, I will decide on the next course of action. Is that understood?”

Skinner shakes his head, disgusted. Everything about this is wrong, but he knows that continuing to argue with the Deputy Director will get them nowhere. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. That will be all, then.”

As soon as they are in the hallway with the door closed behind them, Skinner says, “I’m going to get a cup of coffee. Can I bring you back anything, Agent Scully?”

“I could use some air,” Scully replies. “I’ll come with you.”

It shouldn’t have to be like this; they shouldn’t have to worry about being watched and listened to at every moment inside the Hoover Building, but that is unfortunately a very real concern. If they don’t want whatever they’re discussing to get back to Kersh, they will have to take it outside.

And what he has to say to Scully now definitely qualifies.

The traffic on Pennsylvania is light at this time of day, but it still provides enough cover to keep his words from carrying. “If this were any other division, the FBI would not just sit back and watch while another agency handles the disappearance of one of our own. Jurisdiction or no, the idea that we shouldn’t send someone down there to liaise in person is asinine.”

“You think that’s why Kersh is shutting down the task force? Because this started as an X-File?”

“I think if it were up to him, there never even would have been a task force in the first place. Agent Doggett crossing the border into Mexico just gives him an excuse to disband it.”

“But that’s ridiculous,” Scully says. “Agent Reyes said they determined fairly quickly that there was no reasonable indication of paranormal involvement. The only reason Agent Doggett went to Texas in the first place was to follow up on the victim’s potential connection to organized crime.”

“And Kersh has said he thinks they should have handed the case over to the CID at that point. He’s pissed Doggett went to Texas and even more pissed he carried on into Mexico without authorization.”

“So this is, what, punishment for insubordination?”

“It’s wrong. And I’m not going to let it happen. Not on my watch.”

When he lost Mulder in Oregon, there had been nothing Skinner could do. But this is different. Doggett isn’t aboard some ship. It is going to take hard work and dedicated investigation to find him, but he can be found. Skinner is sure of it. And he’ll be damned if he is going to sit idly by and count on the Mexican Federal Police to treat this case like the priority it needs to be.

“So what do we do?” Scully asks.

“If you can, I think you should join Agent Reyes in San Antonio. She’ll need all the help she can get if Kersh is recalling the task force.”

Scully nods, slowly. “My mom can watch William for a night or two. What are you going to do?”

“Kersh may have ordered Agent Reyes to remain in Texas, but he can’t stop me from getting on a plane to Mexico City,” Skinner says. “Particularly if I don’t tell him,” he adds, dryly.

It’s a long way from Laredo, where Doggett crossed the border, but Skinner figures he will have better luck leaning on the right people if he goes straight to the PF headquarters. 

“I’ll keep you updated on anything I’m able to find out, and you and Agent Reyes do the same. Kersh claims he wants Doggett found, well, this is how that’s going to happen. Not sitting around and waiting.”

“I agree.” Scully looks down at her watch and stops walking. “Okay, I’ll run home and tend to a few things, but I should be able to get to the airport by noon. I’ll be in touch once I’ve landed in Texas.”

“Good. I’m going straight to DCA now, so with any luck, I may already be in Mexico by the time you get to San Antonio.” 

Skinner heads for the curb to try and flag down a taxi. 

“Sir?” Scully calls after him. When he looks back, she says, “We’re going to find him.”

“You’re damned right we are.”

[scenes-in-between]

This is Not Happening (3/3)

“It’s too late.” “He needs help!” “Agent Scully!”

Skinner’s chest constricts at the wild desperation in her eyes as Scully turns and sprints away, back toward the compound. Agent Doggett whirls on him almost immediately.

“You didn’t prepare her?! How could you do that to her? How could you let her come out here with even the slightest hope that he’d still be alive? What the hell is wrong with you?!”

Before Skinner can answer, Agent Reyes steps in front of him, holding out her hand. “He tried, John. We both did. She didn’t want to hear it. I think you know how she--”

“Damn it, Monica, you should have tried harder! You should have sat her down and---”

“And would you have listened? If someone had tried to sit you down when we found Luke? Would anything have kept you from thinking that maybe they were wrong and maybe he was okay?”

“This isn’t about me!” Doggett roars, and Skinner finally steps forward.

“All right, Agent, that’s enough,” he says, quietly but firmly.

There is a sudden, bright flash in the sky ahead, and his stomach plummets. Oh, no. Nononono, not her, too. Without even bothering to consider alternative explanations for the light, he shouts Scully’s name and launches into a sprint.

He makes it to the clearing just as the light goes out and the craft speeds away. A sick sense of deja vu almost sends him to his knees, and he stumbles to a stop, his chest and stomach both heaving, bile rising in his throat. Doggett barrels out of the woods behind him, skidding to a halt at his side.

“What’s wrong, why’d you stop?”

“They took her,” he says around gasping breaths.

“What do you mean? Someone took Agent Scully? Who?!”

A chilling but distinctly human howl echoes in the distance, and Doggett takes off again. Skinner’s feet are moving before he even realizes it, combat instincts overtaking the hopelessness that threatens to immobilize him instead. He’s on Doggett’s heels as they get to the door of the cabin, which is already wide open. Inside, people are huddled against the walls, looking shellshocked, many of them crying.

There is a shout from the room where Skinner and Agent Reyes had retrieved Scully not five minutes earlier. He and Doggett are there in a few short strides, just as one of the compound’s armed guards comes flying backward through the doorway.

“You were supposed to protect him!” Scully bellows, and for a moment Skinner just stares in disbelief.

She’s still here. They didn’t take her. Oh my God, she’s still here.

In the next moment, however, she launches herself at the guard, only to be intercepted by Doggett, and Skinner snaps out of his reverie. Dana Scully is a hell of a lot stronger than she looks, and with the addition of adrenaline and her current emotional state, Doggett isn’t going to be able to keep ahold of her any better than the other times he’s already tried to, tonight. Skinner quickly places himself between them and the guard and puts his hands up.

“Easy, Scully. Take it easy.”

“Jeremiah’s gone! They took him! And it’s his fault!” She continues to strain in Doggett’s grip, apparently still intent on getting to the man behind Skinner. To do what, he doesn’t know.

“Dana, listen--”

“No! Do not fucking ‘Dana’ me. Jeremiah was the only one who could save him and now he’s gone. He’s gone!”

She elbows her way free of Doggett and crashes into Skinner’s chest. Immediately, she tries to twist away from him, but he wraps his arms around her and holds fast.

“And what is attacking this man going to accomplish?” he says. “It’s not going to bring Jeremiah back. It’s not going to bring Mulder back.”

The air goes out of her as if she’s been sucker punched. But only for a moment. And then she explodes.

She shoves her hands hard against his chest, suddenly enough to catch him off guard and break his hold on her. Spinning with arms outstretched, she shoves a lamp off an end table, sending it crashing to the ground. The sound of it breaking is buried beneath the guttural cry that comes out of her. Skinner has never seen her like this, not ever. Not when her sister was killed, not when they thought Mulder was dead in a boxcar, never.

“You bastard!” she screams, her body doubled over from the force of it. “He’s dead because of you!”

It’s nothing that hasn’t already been ringing in his own head from the instant he saw Mulder’s body in that field, but it still knocks the wind out of him to hear her say it.

“You told me we would bring him home alive! You lied to me!”

“Agent Scully, you know that’s not true,” Doggett says quietly from behind her, looking stricken. “A.D. Skinner may have been wrong, but he didn’t lie. He hoped we’d find Mulder alive just as much as you did.”

“Shut up,” she barks over her shoulder, but the fight is starting to leave her. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I may not have all the history, but I do know you’re hurting. And whether or not you believe it, I know he’s hurting, too.”

Her defiant gaze locks with his, and Skinner forces himself not to look away. To let her see the devastation he’s feeling, no matter how uncomfortably vulnerable that makes him.

“I’m so sorry,” he croaks, and her face crumples.

She staggers forward, one arm up to ward him off, and hurries past him to the door of the cabin. Outside, she throws up over the porch railing, into the dirt below. Skinner follows, eventually reaching her side and bringing a hand up to rest on her back, rubbing gently as she gasps for breath. Whether or not she meant what she said in the heat of the moment, right now she needs support, and he will be here for her as much as she allows.

Straightening and wiping her mouth on her sleeve, she turns and falls against him, wrapping her arms around his waist. Her whole frame quakes with soundless sobs, much like it did the other night when she confessed her fears under the starlight. He hates that she was right, wishes bitterly that his own hope and belief could have been enough to save Mulder. The guilt he has been carrying since Mulder’s disappearance is compounded by the knowledge that there is nothing in the world he could possibly do now to make things right. To fix his terrible mistake.

“What am I supposed to do, now?” Her words are muffled by his shirt and almost inaudible, but the pain in them is clear as glass.

“You go on,” he says honestly, even though he knows how hard that will be for her to believe right now.

“I don’t know if I can.”

“I won’t pretend it’s easy. But I promise you won’t have to do it alone.”

She doesn’t say anything more for a long, long time.

[scenes-in-between]

Per Manum (2/3)

“Who’s that? In Agent Scully’s car.” “That I don’t know, Agent Doggett.”

He has had just about enough of this.

He’s not an idiot; he can put two and two together. She tells him Parenti’s her doctor, and she expects him to believe she just happened to run out of the office, first thing in the morning, because she, what, had an appointment she forgot about? And neglected to mention? No, either she’s lying about not investigating the Haskells, or she’s got more than a passing personal connection to this case.

And now he’s supposed to take this unscheduled leave of absence at face value? No way.

This case is all about pregnant women -- alleged former abductees, to boot -- whose lives are in danger. Agent Scully has been acting cagey since the word “go” on this, and now she’s as much as told him she’s going into hiding. How can he possibly draw any conclusion but the (admittedly unexpected) one that Agent Scully is herself pregnant?

Not that he can get any confirmation on that. Oh, Skinner knows, but there’s not a chance in hell that he’ll break her confidence, which Doggett can at least respect, even if he hates being kept in the dark. It’s not like he needs to know the details; how it happened, who the father is, that’s all her business. But as it pertains to this case, if she is pregnant, it seems like pretty relevant information to have if he’s going to do his job effectively. After all, partners are supposed to look out for each other, aren’t they? So if there’s a particular reason she might be in more danger than usual here, it’d be nice if he were in the loop.

Instead, all he can do now is watch her walk away again, this time after she’s dragged him out of bed at three in the morning just so she could tell him she was leaving, and that’s not even the worst part. No, the worst part is that she still couldn’t bring herself to trust him enough to admit the truth about why. All this time, and she still doesn’t trust him. After everything they’ve been through together, he has to admit it feels just plain lousy. As pissed as he might be about how her choices are affecting his ability to do his job, on a personal level he’s more hurt than angry. Sure, there’s no denying they got off to a rocky start, all those months ago, but he would’ve thought he’s more than proven by now that he’s on her side.

He comes to a red light and stops, rubbing his eyes with a sigh. She’s made it very clear she doesn’t want him involved on this, and part of him wants to just throw his hands up and let her deal with the consequences. Lord knows he’s sick and tired of the games. The problem is, if she ends up actually getting hurt because he didn’t have her back, he’ll never forgive himself.

So, what now? He’s got no hope of going back to sleep tonight, no partner for who knows how long, and no clue where to even begin if he’s going to try and help her. Officially, the case is as good as closed, though he supposes there’s nothing stopping him from continuing to look into Haskell’s claims from the perspective of earlier case files. See if there’s maybe some connection somewhere. Something, anything. Anything’s better than spinning his wheels being upset.

To the office, then. He’s got a change of clothes there and hours before there’s even a chance of someone coming in to bother him. And coffee. It may be terrible coffee, not half as good as the cup he never got to have at the diner just now, but he has a feeling he’s going to need it.

***

Skinner watches Agent Doggett drive away and shakes his head. He sympathizes with Scully’s caution; of course he does. But enough is enough. He meets her gaze through the windshield, but she looks away quickly. She has to know what a terrible position she’s put him in, having to continue keeping things from Doggett, especially given everything this case has brought to light. They could use his help, damn it. Maybe he should have pushed the issue.

Too late, now.

She pulls a u-turn off the curb, and he watches her tail lights recede into the distance. At least she’s going somewhere safe. It’s one less thing to worry about. (Well, one less thing to worry much about.) Losing Mulder shook him in ways he still hasn’t fully recovered from, made him second-guess his abilities in the field and as a leader. He worries more than he used to, these days. Not that Mulder and Scully didn’t give him plenty to worry about, before, but for the sake of his own sanity he’d had to learn how to… not. That all changed the moment Mulder disappeared on his watch, and it’s only gotten worse with each day Mulder hasn’t returned. With every passing day, the effect of his error in judgment feels more permanent and devastating, and less like something he can make right if only he tries hard enough.

He owes it to Scully not to make things worse than they already are. He just wishes she had a little more faith in Agent Doggett.

Skinner will be the first to admit that he neither liked nor trusted Doggett when he was merely Kersh’s errand boy, but things have changed. Doggett may still not believe the truth about Mulder’s abduction, but he’s clearly learning that nothing is as cut and dried as he once thought, particularly after what he saw and experienced in Pennsylvania. He’s shown himself to be committed to the X-Files, to taking the assignments seriously, no matter what his personal views might be. More than that, he does seem to genuinely care about Scully. The notion that he would betray her is completely absurd.

Then again, Scully wouldn’t even tell him who that woman was. Skinner knows she is pregnant and in danger, and that is all. Scully’s playing everything so close to the vest, it’s hard to know how to help her.

He clenches his jaw and heads toward his own car. He’s done what he can, for now. He will do what she asked and continue to keep her secrets, but when this is all over, they need to have a serious conversation about bringing Doggett up to speed. She’s put it off long enough. It’s time.

[scenes-in-between]

The Gift

She leaves early on Friday afternoon for an appointment, telling him she won’t be back afterward and that she’ll see him on Monday. In theory, he could duck out early, too; they wrapped up the final report on their most recent case this morning, and nothing new has come in since. However, he decides instead to redouble his efforts with regard to honoring the promise he made so many months ago.

He swore to her he’d find Mulder.

In truth, part of him has always hoped Mulder would come to his senses and return on his own. He would honestly like to believe Mulder is the stand-up guy Scully thinks he is. The more time that’s passed, though, the less it’s looking like there’s any real hope of him coming back voluntarily.

To be fair, maybe he can’t. Maybe he’s gotten so sick with whatever’s wrong with his brain that he’s in a hospital somewhere. Hell, he probably wasn't in his right mind when he ran off, either.

Still, benefit of the doubt isn't going to help Doggett find him. He's going to have to dig back into the paper trail he tried to follow, back when Mulder first went missing. There's got to be something there, some dots he just didn’t manage to connect, before.

He decides to start with the cell phone records.

***

“Something happened here. It just wasn’t what we thought.”

Skinner spends most of the drive back to DC debating whether to tell her.

On the one hand, she has a right to know. Whatever the circumstances of Mulder’s actual disappearance, there is no doubt he also went to Squamash last May. Skinner hasn’t wanted to believe Mulder kept an undiagnosed brain disease hidden from everyone (especially Scully), but it is becoming harder to deny. Any pieces he can put together on that front, he has an obligation to pass along.

On the other hand, this information will no doubt cause her pain. She already has more than enough to deal with, just with her pregnancy alone, never mind the fact that they’re no closer to finding Mulder than they were months ago. How will it actually help anything to dig more deeply into the ways he deceived them?

In the end, he decides it’s not his place to shield her from this, however painful it might be. It’s also worth giving her fair warning in case Doggett decides to go to OPR about the falsified case report after all.

He calls her apartment from his cell just as he’s getting back into the city. “Agent Scully, it’s Walter Skinner. I’m sorry to bother you on a Sunday, but there’s something we need to discuss, and I don’t think it should wait.”

“Sir? Have you found something?”

He winces at the carefully-restrained hope in her voice. “Nothing new, unfortunately. And nothing we should discuss over the phone. Do you mind if I stop by for a few minutes?”

“Uh… no, that’s… that’s fine. I’ll be here for the rest of the afternoon.”

“Thanks. I’ll be there shortly.”

***

She tries not to pace as she waits for him to arrive. She mostly fails.

He said “Nothing new,” not “This isn’t about Mulder.” So what on Earth could be important enough that it can’t wait until Monday and can’t be discussed over the phone, yet also qualifies as “nothing new?”

Fortunately, she doesn’t have to wait long. Not ten minutes after she hung up the phone, there’s a quiet knock at her front door. She forces herself to answer it calmly, checking first to make sure it’s him and not blindly opening the door in a rush.

The tension in his jaw does nothing to set her mind at ease, and after she’s ushered him inside and shut the door, she can’t seem to figure out what to do with her hands, clasping them in front of herself, making fists at her sides, anything to keep them from shaking.

“Dana, there’s no easy way to say this.” His mouth barely moves as he speaks, like he’s fighting to keep the words inside just a little longer. Her heart is in her throat. “I have reason to believe Mulder really was suffering from an illness last year that he kept hidden.”

Okay, now she’s just confused. “Right. But we already knew that. We have the medical records.”

He shakes his head, dismissive. “You know as well as I do that those things can be faked. You can’t tell me you just accepted them, without question, after everything you and Mulder have been through.”

“Of course not, but then I found--” She bites off the rest of the sentence. Mulder’s journal is private, and the last thing she wants is for it to be turned into just another piece of evidence.

“What did you find?”

She turns the question back on him. “Why don’t you tell me what you found, first? What’s convinced you that the records are genuine?”

He sighs, then nods toward her kitchen table. “Do you mind if we sit?”

She can’t help feeling a little disappointed as they pull out chairs and sit down. Whatever Skinner’s found, she can’t imagine how it will help them bring Mulder home or how it’s worthy of the urgency. Still, alongside the disappointment is a small sense of relief. At least they’re not closing his case entirely, the Bureau officially giving up on him.

“Early last May,” Skinner starts, looking down at his hands folded on the table, “Mulder took an unreported trip to a place called Squamash, Pennsylvania. Agent Doggett found cell phone records indicating he was there at the same time he filed a report saying he was working a case here.”

She nods, resigned. It was only a matter of time before Doggett put those pieces together. “Yes, sir.”

His eyes widen. “You knew about this?”

“Only after the fact. I found out… shortly after he went missing.”

“And you didn’t think to mention it because…?”

Because I couldn’t cope with what it meant. Because it was too raw at first, and then it just didn’t matter, later.

“Because it wasn’t relevant,” she says instead.

“I don’t know if I’ve misstated the seriousness, here. I swore to Doggett that you didn’t… that you couldn’t... Scully, your signature is on a falsified report.”

She blinks. “Excuse me?”

“Your signature is on the case file claiming Mulder was here when he was actually in Pennsylvania.”

“Sir, did you read the report? We were performing alternating surveillance. Mulder went to Pennsylvania during my shift. Nothing was falsified.” She shakes her head. “I suppose in retrospect he was barely on that case, but if you'll recall, you were the one who pulled him off it and sent him to Vermont. If you want to talk about being in two places at once… Even so, he still consulted with me over the phone, so there wasn't anything untoward about including his signature on the final report.”

He nods, slowly. “Okay, I remember that case. That explains the apparent discrepancy. You’re in the clear.” He looks relieved, and she's not sure whether to be offended that he thought her capable of forging official documents in some sort of cover-up. “And you didn't know he was going to Squamash at the time?”

“No, sir. Like I said, I only found out about it after… after I got back from Arizona in early June.”

“And you know why he went?”

She sighs and looks down at the table, nodding. “Yes, I do.”

“How?”

Does it matter? Please don’t make me give up this last piece of him that I have.

There’s a flutter in her belly, and she realizes that the journal isn’t the very last piece of him she has. Somehow, the thought gives her strength even as it makes her indescribably sad to think of the possibility that Mulder might never return to see what they made together.

“He left a note, explaining. In case he didn’t come back. I found it in his apartment after he went missing.”

“I don’t understand. If you’ve known about this since June, why didn’t you follow up on it? Isn’t it possible that Mulder found something else like this, somewhere? That maybe Doggett’s right, and I only thought I saw--”

“No, sir.” She looks up, frowning. “You watched Mulder be abducted. He may have been sick, but he didn’t fake his disappearance. Agent Doggett is wrong about that.”

“But how can you be certain?”

Heaving another sigh, she pushes back from the table and stands. “Excuse me a minute.”

She goes into her bedroom and opens the drawer of her nightstand, lower lip pinched between her teeth as she extracts the notebook. She holds it for a moment, running her thumbs back and forth on the cover, then flips it open to the final entry. Going back out into the kitchen, she holds the book to her chest.

“Mulder kept a journal, detailing some of what he went through in trying to diagnose and treat the problem in his brain. I haven’t shared it because--” Her voice cracks, and she swallows. “--because it’s personal. Because he left it for me, and while it confirms that he was in fact sick, it doesn’t change anything about how or why he’s missing.” She sets the journal, still open to the last page, down in front of Skinner. “This is the last thing he wrote. I have no reason to doubt that it’s the truth.”

She watches his eyes skip over the words, his brow furrowed in concentration. When he finishes and looks up at her, she rushes to get her question out before he can ask one of his own.

“Sir, is there any way we can keep this off the record? If Agent Doggett gets ahold of this notebook… There are things in here that are none of his business. And they won’t do anything to help us find Mulder. Please.”

He rubs his eyes underneath his glasses, then pinches the bridge of his nose. Scully finds herself involuntarily holding her breath.

“I’ll do what I can,” he says at last, and she sighs out, nodding.

“Thank you.”

“I can’t promise anything. You know that. If I order Agent Doggett outright to stop investigating this Squamash connection, the only thing it will do is arouse his suspicion. However, there’s a chance I can convince him to leave it alone. At the very least, to keep from dragging you into it.”

It’s not as much as she hoped for, but better than she feared. “I appreciate that, sir.”

After he leaves, she tucks the journal back away in her drawer, trying to find renewed comfort in Mulder’s confidence that he would eventually return. It’s getting harder to keep hoping, and she hates herself a little bit for thinking it might be easier -- or at least smarter -- to start truly accepting the possibility that she will have to raise their child alone. Whether that’s because he never comes back, or because the damage in his brain is so great that he won’t survive even if he does come back, there’s a definite temptation to start preparing herself for that potential future. To stop living in limbo.

She hates herself for thinking it because she knows that if the situation were reversed, Mulder would never give up hope. No matter how ill-advised, or statistically improbable, he would never stop searching, never stop waiting. Doesn’t she owe him that much? Even when it’s hard, even when it hurts, how can she contemplate even starting to give up hope, just for the sake of protecting her own heart?

At the same time, what does she owe their child? She can’t afford to let herself lose sight of the fact that it’s not just about her and Mulder, anymore.

“Please just tell me what to do,” she whispers, though whether to Mulder or God or her own heart, she couldn’t say.

The only answer is another flutter low in her belly, her mental Mulder uncharacteristically silent, and she closes her eyes, placing a hand below her navel. She stands there for a long time, just breathing.