From: Kiyoko Ishimura Date: Sun, 13 Sep 1998 17:25:00 +0900 Subject: Baccarat Piece: Special Provision (1/1) BACCARAT PIECE: SPECIAL PROVISION By Kiyoko Ishimura GHB00253@nifty.ne.jp CATEGORY: VRA RATING: R KEYWORDS: Mulder/Skinner Romance, Slash SPOILERS: None ARCHIVE: Yes SUMMARY: Skinner provides some comfort on a sad anniversary. TIMELINE: Sometime in early BFI. This story is set in the 3rd month of their relationship. At this point, Bill Mulder is still alive. DISCLAIMER: Fox Mulder, Walter Skinner and Dana Scully are the properties of Chris Carter, 1013 Productions and Fox Television. Copyright infringement is not intended or implied in their use in this work of fiction. AUTHOR'S NOTE: I would like to thank Sean for his total support, as always. Also, I would like to thank Sue and Susan for beta-reading and for their valuable suggestions. ...................................... LATE NOVEMBER SATURDAY, 4 A.M. Walter Skinner cautiously walked down a familiar dark hallway. The foul stench of stagnant water permeated everything. The ceiling above him looked like it was about to crumble down on him. Skinner suddenly found himself in front of a battered door. What was he doing here? Where exactly was this place? Skinner was about to continue down the hallway but he heard something and stopped dead in his tracks. Then he felt an invisible tugging at his wrists. He turned around and returned to the ominous looking door. As he squinted in the dark, he found old marks on the door. On closer inspection, Skinner noticed the marks seemed to read "42", as if the door used to bear that number, but due to the passage of time or from negligence, the numbers had dropped off. Beyond the door, someone's voice could be heard. It was scarcely audible even in the dismal quiet of the place. Skinner placed an ear over the door. It was the bitter weeping of someone he knew very well. Fox Mulder's voice. From where he stood, Skinner heard Fox Mulder's heaving sobs, sounds that wrenched Skinner's gut. When was the last time Skinner heard such utter despair? Was it on a Vietnamese marshland? Or was it at a morgue, when parents mourned with disbelief at seeing the horribly damaged body of their child? "Agent Mulder?" At last finding his voice, Skinner knocked on the door tentatively. There was no response and the sobbing grew louder. Skinner knocked some more. "Agent Mulder, I know you're in there. Let me in!" Mulder didn't answer. "Scully..." he heard Mulder say in between sobs. "Help me!" "Agent Mulder! Open the door!" Skinner banged more desperately on the door with his clenched fist. "Mulder!" The echo of a gunshot rang out. Skinner stood aghast. A chill ran through him. From where he stood, Skinner found a dark liquid seeping out from the gap underneath the door. Blood. Fox Mulder's blood. Why didn't I stop him? Skinner gasped, as he froze on the spot. The overwhelming loss galvanized him into action. Skinner rammed his shoulder into the door. But his strength born from desperation did not even budge the door one bit. The blood on the floor continued to seep out. The slick surface provided no purchase for his feet to brace against as he continued to frantically ram through the door. .............. "NO!" Walter Skinner sat bolt upright, breathing heavily, his heart frantically drumming against his chest. Then he remembered where he was: in his cabin by the lake. Gooseflesh stood out over his nude body. He scrambled for the comforter. The bedside clock read 4:00 a.m. Less than two hours since he'd fallen asleep. It was still pitch black outside on this chilly winter night. There was a flash followed by a loud thunderclap. A night thunderstorm. Highly unusual for this time of year. Skinner tried to get into a more comfortable position as he patted the bedcovers into place, when he heard Fox Mulder heavily moan in his sleep, just beside him. It seemed that Mulder had been snoring on his chest. Mulder murmured something then rolled back to cling to Skinner. Just like him, Mulder's skin was goosefleshed in the cool room air. Skinner silently cursed, getting angry with himself for having such a morbid dream. Dreams meant something but not all the time. Hopefully this particular nightmare didn't mean anything. Another thunderclap. The illumination in the room from the lightning outside served to emphasize the dark circles under Mulder's eyes. The disorientation from the nightmare plus Mulder's apparent exhaustion only added to Skinner's guilt. We shouldn't have made love last night, Skinner thought. In fact, it wasn't even last night. More precisely, it was just two hours ago. Mulder arrived at the cabin at midnight. Skinner waited up for him after Mulder's call that he would be late. Once the agent entered using his own key, the droop in his shoulders showed what a rough week he'd had. "Maybe you shouldn't have driven out here tonight," Skinner had said regretfully as he enfolded his lover in a welcome embrace. Mulder shook his head vehemently. "No, I need this." Mulder didn't elaborate further. Once they were in bed a few minutes later, the younger man clung to him tightly. It was obvious by the way Mulder had kissed and caressed him that he wanted sex. Skinner was reluctant. Skinner had tried to reason with him, but Mulder didn't listen. There had been something desperate with the younger man. Skinner hoped he'd provided the comfort physically and mentally. At first, Skinner had tried to limit their activity to heavy petting, but Mulder had been hell-bent on what he needed. Mulder's strategically placed kisses and caresses overcame the AD's reluctance. In the end, Skinner hadn't the heart to deny him. And his own body had responded fiercely. As their lovemaking progressed, Skinner had almost lost his erection when Mulder started sobbing onto his chest, clinging to him hard, as if trying to get away from his own body. As Skinner remembered the details, he felt the faint sting in both his shoulders where Mulder left marks from his tight grip. Harder, Walter. Fox had begged in passion. Harder. Deeper, please. Please. Please. Please. Skinner recalled the words that the agent had slipped out just before he climaxed. Make me forget everything. I want to forget. I need you. I need only you. What is it, Fox? Skinner silently asked his sleeping lover, while stroking his hair. What's disturbing you? Why didn't -- why can't you tell me about it? All Skinner could think of in this dead of night was Mulder's latest case. The intrepid duo had broken into a privately funded laboratory. It was all on tape from the security cameras. They obtained vital information linked to the illegal smuggling of dangerous chemicals across state lines. The end did not always justify the means, and Skinner, as his direct supervisor, had given Mulder a complete and thorough dressing down. Even Scully had gone pale. Skinner had reprimanded her for her lack of effort to keep her partner in check. In hindsight, he had been unfair to Scully. Skinner knew almost as much as she did how difficult it was to stop Mulder at anything once he set his mind to something. In the AD's office, Mulder had accepted the reprimands. He had been expressionless the whole time. Skinner couldn't read his mind through the mask. At least, the AD understood that Mulder didn't take it personally. Skinner's fury was well deserved. In the back of his mind, Skinner realized his relationship with Mulder was part of the reason why he was so enraged. He lived with the knowledge that it wasn't inconceivable that Mulder would rush headlong into a case until he made a fatal mistake. Someday, something would happen to Fox and he, Skinner, wouldn't able to protect him. Maybe the dream embodied Skinner's fear. But that's the way it was for him and Mulder, and they had to live with it. Dividing their professional lives of Mondays through Fridays from their private lives on weekends. Mulder twitched again and murmured something. His eyes were open but Skinner knew that Mulder was still half-asleep. The younger man frowned at the sound of rain beating on the roof with distant thunder. "Walter? What is it?" Mulder's voice was heavily nasal from sleep. "Nothing, just the rain." Mulder snuggled in even closer. The AD drew him into his arms and fell asleep, hoping he would feel better in the morning. ................ SATURDAY AFTERNOON By two o'clock, Skinner began to wonder when Mulder would wake up. Skinner spent a solitary Saturday morning, not entirely unpleasant because he knew that he wasn't really alone in the cabin. He did most of the cabin chores he'd set out to do for this weekend. Then he took a walk in the frost left in the wake of the freak winter rain. But by early afternoon, he missed Mulder's easy companionship. He went back upstairs and was again disappointed to find Mulder still buried under the covers. Skinner settled for quietly reading a book beside his lover. Signs of life on the other half of the bed gratified Skinner after a few minutes. Mulder's head popped out from under the covers. He had the bemused expression of the half-awake. Skinner silently watched as Mulder oriented himself slowly to waking on an afternoon. From where he lay, Mulder looked at the window, turned his head then looked at Skinner, then turned back his head to look at the window again. "It's almost three." Skinner answered Mulder's unvoiced question. "Saturday?" "Yes, Saturday. Rough week?" Mulder abruptly wrestled with the covers, stalked out to the bathroom and slammed the door. Skinner's eyebrows rose. It was another one of those days. He sighed. Moody Fox. Maybe Mulder was still smarting over the way he was chewed out this week. "I'll be in the kitchen," Skinner called through the door. He could hear the shower running. "Fox...?" "Yeah, kitchen!" Mulder called back. Skinner prepared canned soup and good crusty bread. Nothing elaborate. As the bread was toasting in the oven, Skinner heard a step behind him. Mulder stood there zipping up his jacket. He looked a bit pale but there were red streaks on his right cheek. Skinner wondered if Mulder been crying in the bathroom. The younger man even had his weekend backpack thrown over his shoulder. "Fox? You're leaving?" The AD surprised himself by being unable to keep the disappointment from his voice. "I just thought that... I should go home now. I'll call for a cab." "At least have some of the soup," Skinner gestured to the kitchen table where he had set the soup bowl and the bread. When Mulder was in one of his moods, Skinner had to choose his words with care. Sometimes, the smallest thing set Mulder off. Maybe the steaming soup looked and smelled good enough. Mulder put down his backpack and sat down. Skinner watched amazed at how fast the agent consumed the soup while simultaneously stuffing his mouth with the bread. "Wouldn't it be better if you wait until tomorrow?" Skinner asked tentatively. Mulder shook his head. "Okay, you satisfied?" Mulder tipped the empty bowl at him. "I told you, I'm going back to DC." Mulder stood up abruptly from the table, almost knocking over the chair. He strode purposefully to the sink with his soup bowl and rinsed it off and placed it into the dishwasher. Mulder was behaving strangely today. Remembering the last case, Skinner waited for him to calm down a little, then decided to probe further. "Are you mad at me, Fox?" Skinner asked carefully. "About the last case?" "No! That's not it. I messed up and I deserved it when you reamed me out at work!" Mulder seemed genuinely surprised. "Then, what?" "It's not you. It's me, okay? I need to work out some things on my own." Mulder sighed deeply as he reached for the phone. "This weekend only. I'll spoil your weekend by being this way." Then the younger man looked away, all silent. They had planned to go hiking this weekend. It was also a good season for hunting. Mulder wasn't particularly crazy about hunting, but they surely had been looking forward to trekking in the woods, especially after the recent killing weeks. "Is that why you want to go home?" Mulder didn't answer nor nod. No way, Skinner thought, remembering the nightmare. He put his hand on Mulder's stubborn shoulder and admonished him. "Fox, can you tell me what's wrong? If you're feeling pretty down about something, I'd like to know why. But if you don't want to tell me, wouldn't it be better if you're not alone?" Mulder breathed deeply and looked away. Still, he said nothing. "I'm happy to be here for you, Fox, if you let me. You don't need to leave." Skinner tightened his grip on Mulder's shoulder. "Walter..." "So you'll stay here?" Skinner's hand was still caressing Mulder's upper body. But finally, Mulder faced his lover. "Okay." Mulder closed his eyes, sighed out deeply, and said in a small voice. "I'll stay." Skinner hugged Mulder and for a short moment, he was also lost in thought. Weekends are the only time we're together. The rest of the week, I can't do much for you. How I wish I could do more. Just like I can't protect you once you're out in the field. ................ "I was just remembering things." The agent was curled up on the sofa with an old afghan over his legs, while Skinner was sat across from him. The AD kept himself busy by peeling an apple. The television was muted, turned on to a sports channel that featured the bizarre winter sport of curling. "Things?" "Today is the day Sam was taken," Mulder confessed. Skinner was taken aback. He cursed himself for not paying enough attention to that particular aspect in Mulder's personal file. Walter Skinner's "X-file." At least, he had an idea of the morose mood pervading the cabin. "Every year, I usually spend it at work, even on weekends. I don't want to spend the day in my apartment, you know. It still... hurts. When I think of how Mom and Dad are feeling right now, and how they must think of me, it..." Mulder's voice trailed off. Skinner stood up and went over to the sofa. He lifted Mulder's legs and sat down, so that Mulder's feet were resting comfortably on his lap. Mulder talked about his sister very rarely, if at all. "This year, I thought it'd be different, since we've been...together...weekends. But it's still the same, you know? All I could think of was the last family trip we were supposed to take, just before Sam was taken." Mulder shut his eyes then pressed thumb and forefinger over them. "It's funny. It's only now that I remember that day." Skinner finished peeling the apple, sliced off a few pieces then offered some to his lover. "Thanks." Mulder took one piece and they munched it for a while. "Sam had been obsessing about Disneyworld for some time. She heard about it from one classmate who lorded it over the other kids. A long car trip, the whole family together was something I didn't think my dad could tolerate. But were we in for a surprise when Dad agreed to the Disneyworld trip." Mulder absently ate more of the apple slices Skinner handed to him. "Dad planned a two week vacation down in Florida. It was the first time Dad ever took a vacation. The times we spent in the summerhouse in Rhode Island were just me and Sam and Mom with Dad coming over on weekends. So you can guess how excited we all were. Sam was never happier; she never made me forget that it was her idea. Mom was merry and Dad was nicer to me than usual. But, on the day we were supposed to leave, I became ill." Mulder's voice became bitter. "Fox." Skinner looked at Mulder, who shifted himself under the blanket. "Don't you think it's just like me, even back then? Always with bad luck, huh? Anyway, I woke up feeling all funny, wondering if I should tell them. When I went downstairs, dad snapped at me for oversleeping and being late for breakfast. I thought it'd be better not to mention that I wasn't feeling so hot. I didn't want to spoil everyone's plans." Skinner kept silent as he listened to Mulder's story. His gut wrenched; if only he had to power to go back through time and knock some sense into his lover's cold, neglecting parents. Mulder hardly talked about his parents and Sam, but when he did, more often than not Skinner heard stories filled with pain. "The car ride was a nightmare. I managed not to get sick, but by the time we arrived in Orlando, I was all woozy. Of course, Dad was furious and Mom looked cross. Only Sam was worried about me. They called a doctor and I was told to stay in bed for a few days. I stayed in the room with the hotel babysitter and they took Sam to see the rides." "What? They left you alone?" Skinner was incredulous, despite being familiar already with the way his parents had treated Fox. "They had to. This trip was months in the planning. But I felt worse the next day and Mom had to stay with me. And that's how I blew a family vacation, the last vacation with Sam." How about you, how about what you were feeling then? Skinner wanted to ask but he held his tongue. Right now, as Mulder remembered the pain, his face held the echo of the rejection he must have felt when his parents deserted him on that last family vacation. Silently, Skinner rubbed Mulder's knee in consolation. "I'm sorry, Fox." "Hey, it's just another incident in the colorful Mulder family saga." Mulder's attempt at humor fell flat. Skinner kept on stroking his lover's knee and leg. "Ah, I'm feeling better. Thank you." "Do you want more apples? Anything?" Mulder shook his head. "Just hold me for a while." "Then let's you get back to the bed." Skinner murmured. He stood up and pulled Mulder upright. "This sounds like you need some serious TLC." Once in bed, they cuddled together. "Thank you, Walter." Just before Mulder fallen asleep, he said in a faint voice. "For just being here for me." Listening to Mulder's sleeping breath and feeling his complete but fragile trust on his own chest, Skinner ruminated over a lot of things. ................ SUNDAY AFTERNOON Mulder remained morose for most of the day. Skinner invited him to take a long walk with him, but Mulder had refused, preferring to mope around the cabin. It was frightening how Mulder could withdraw himself from everything, how he chose to wallow in his misery. He went around the cabin with a hangdog, dejected air. By Sunday afternoon, with the winter sun beginning to set, it was time to return to DC. They put their gear back into Skinner's Rover "Feeling any better?" Skinner asked tentatively as they buckled their seatbelts. "I told you this happens if I don't spend it at work. I think about how Sam was taken, get all riled up about it. That's why if I can, I try to keep busy." Mulder glanced at Skinner. "Fine." Skinner sighed. He started the car and pulled out of the driveway. The freakish winter rain was back, the raindrops pelting down hard enough to blur the windshield. Just as they approached the exit to the freeway after driving along the country road for a while, a piecing siren signaled an ambulance trying to get through. Skinner barely had enough time to yield at the shoulder. Just enough time to think things through. How Fox's anxieties, tensions and mental scars stemmed from his less than ideal childhood. That dream of apartment 42. The way both of them had to live. Skinner glanced at his side and took in how Mulder remained slumped in the seat beside him. Before he was consciously aware of it, Skinner found himself making a U-turn, heading back to the cabin. He knew he was acting on impulse but he didn't stop himself. Mulder's reaction time to this abrupt turnaround was delayed. "Walter, where are we going? D.C. is the opposite direction." "We're not returning to D.C." "Did you forget anything back at the cabin?" Now Mulder was puzzled. "No, we'll be staying in the cabin today." Skinner said as he quickly glanced at the man beside him. "Just this once, I don't want you to be alone in your apartment. If you don't feel fine tomorrow you'll call Scully and I'll call Kim. If I remember correctly, you have no major cases now, right?" "No, but..." "Walter, I --" Now Mulder was genuinely surprised. "I appreciate this but you really shouldn't, pardon me, cut classes because of me. You don't have to bother." Since they had started their relationship, Mulder had already known how hellish the AD's schedule could be. If Skinner took even so much as a day off, he would pay for it the next few days. "And it is contrary to our major rules," Mulder reminded the AD. "Actually, it isn't. There's always a special provision." Skinner smiled and stole another glance at Mulder. "And I have a very capable secretary." "Walter, are you sure?" Mulder asked carefully. He just couldn't believe that the AD was breaking the biggest weekend-only rule. "You're spoiling me." "Then let me spoil you," Skinner said. "Take it while it lasts." For a while, they drove in silence. "Walter..." Mulder said. He carefully took Skinner's right hand from the wheel and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Thanks." Skinner was musing. This was just their third month together and he'd already broken one of their more important rules, rules he'd imposed on them. In the coming months, how many more would fall by the wayside? Somehow, Walter Skinner didn't mind much. END OF BACCARAT PIECE: SPECIAL PROVISION Kiyoko Ishimura / September 5, 1998 Feedback highly appreciated at: GHB00253@nifty.ne.jp --------------------------------------------------------- "A beacon in the night." Mulder in reference to Skinner Nisei --------------------------------------------------------