Date sent: Mon, 17 Nov 1997 08:52:00 +0900 From: Kiyoko Ishimura Subject: RE-REPOST:Baccarat Fragment:Ms.Butterfly BACCARAT FRAGMENT: MS. BUTTERFLY (1/1) By Kiyoko Ishimura GHB00253@niftyserve.or.jp CATEGORY: SRA RATING: PG SPOILERS: None KEYWORDS: Skinner/Other, Skinner/Mulder SUMMARY: A Safeway encounter brings back painful memories for Walter Skinner. ARCHIVE: Yes WARNING: Contains homosexual and heterosexual relationship between consenting adults. Slight SkinnerAngst and a few bad words. DISCLAIMER: Walter Skinner and Fox Mulder are the properties of Chris Carter, 1013 Productions and Fox Television. No copyright infringement is intended or implied in their use in this work of fiction. Jack Reilly and the Baccarat universe belong to Sean Spencer. AUTHOR'S NOTE: A lot of thanks to Sean not only for tempting me to try this one out, but also for your wholehearted support. This one is absolutely for you. ******************** Assistant Director Walter S. Skinner of the Federal Bureau of Investigation was struggling with himself in the Safeway. He was in the candy section and was debating on whether to get the newest Nestle product. He was intrigued with the Cookies and Cream, which he supposed was similar to good old reliable Nestle's Crunch. Of course, there were two of the giant sized Nestle's Crunch already in the cart. He shrugged and got two of the giant bars of Cookies and Cream. After all, Mulder ate quite a lot of chocolate, too. Fox Mulder was with him but he was near the entrance. The agent always spent time at the magazine and book section, looking at the sci-fi paperbacks. Without fail, the younger man also perused the video rack, looking for a likely B movie. It was a nice summer Saturday afternoon and Skinner felt relaxed. They were on their usual weekend in the cabin by the lake. Like always, they were there since Friday night and left early on Monday mornings. A lot of things changed recently. After eight months' painful separation, Mulder finally moved in with Skinner. In fact, Skinner just sold his house and they had been living together in the Crystal City apartment since a month ago. Skinner was more than satisfied with the way their lives were. Of course, their lovemaking was great, but he noticed of late that their bond was more stable and had deepened. The mere presence of each other was enough to fill the two men's heart with happiness and satisfaction. Life had never been better for Skinner and hopefully Mulder as well. Maybe it was the happiness and satisfaction that made Skinner uncharacteristically absent-minded; the AD didn't notice when someone abruptly appeared from the corner of aisle, which was his blind side. Since he was too preoccupied, it was too late to dodge and he bumped straight into a much smaller and softer figure. To Skinner's embarrassment, it was a young woman with straight black long hair, who lost her balance and fell unto her back right into a huge pyramid of Chips Ahoy. Instantly, the shoppers' attentions were drawn to the crash and chaos as countless chocolate-chip cookie packages scattered all around. It was a huge pyramid and the stock boy groaned and covered his face. After all, he spent the whole day yesterday gingerly constructing that pyramid. They had to push the Chips Ahoy because the stock was nearing its expiration date. "I am so sorry!" Quickly, Skinner knelt down to help the young woman to her feet. From the corner of his eye, Skinner saw Mulder. Damn, Fox saw it and Skinner would have to bear the brunt of his needling for the next few days if he was lucky or months if he wasn't. "Are you okay, ma'am?" the AD asked. Skinner reached for the woman who was still in a dazed heap in the midst of a big pile of blue, red and white packages on the supermarket floor. "Yes, I'm fine." As the young woman looked up, an electric recognition shot through Skinner. He froze on the spot and felt his entire body grow hot. Right in front of him was a beautiful petite Asian woman with ivory skin with big almond-shaped black eyes. "Oh God," Skinner hissed as he felt a sharp pain in his chest, then gasped out the name even he himself forgot until now. In an instant, he forgot everything about the present, while his memory flew backwards to a time more than twenty- five years ago. *********** Okinawa, summer 1968 "Hey look, Walt, there she is. The one I told you about." At first, Private Walter Sergei Skinner of the U.S. Marine Corps thought his buddy Jack Reilly was drunk. They had been in this Okinawa bar for only an hour, but his new found buddy Jack had one too many already and his voice was slurred and incoherent. Walter wiped his forehead damp with sweat. Even at night, the air in Okinawa was so thick, persistent and unbelievably hot that it made every single soldier stationed in this subtropical island angry and frustrated. The Marine's hang out in the capital Naha's entertainment/red-light district had poor air-conditioning, a luxury even in mainland Japan. It was high summer. During the day, everything melted under the maddening one hundred-degree temperatures. Coupled with the unbearable humidity, virtually every American's brain boiled alive in their skulls. Like all marines after basic training, Walter was now used to hardships but this heat sure got to him. Both he and Reilly and the rest of their squad were waiting with anticipation and excitement for their new assignment mingled with secret, instinctive fear. Walter wondered what was waiting for them in Viet Nam, where he would soon be dispatched. "Walt, do you hear me? You've got to see that one." "Okay Jack, what's the big deal?" "Miss Butterfly." Jack Reilly pointed across the smoky room just a few feet away. Skinner narrowed his eyes, when the said woman turned around. Despite himself, Walter was taken aback. Jack was right, she was something. Her age indeterminate probably a little bit older than them, a slender and, to their unschooled eyes, glamorous beauty. Her face was partly hidden by the long amazingly straight black hair almost reaching to her breasts. And the eyes. As black and as deep as midnight, at the same time, penetrating into one's soul, with something sad and resigned swimming within them. Her skin was just like porcelain. Walter just gazed back at her. "See?" Jack chuckled, enjoying Walter's reaction. "She's kind of famous here, but the bitch won't have anything to do with us privates. Deals only with officers." "She's no butterfly. She's a lynx or something." Walter managed to say, a little embarrassed at what he was feeling. In the back of his mind, he felt kind of bad at Jack calling her a bitch. It went against the way he was brought up. But right now, all he could think of was that she reminded him of one of the big cats in the city zoo. Even his hand was clenching, because all he wanted to do was to run his hand through her sleek black mane. Walter was suddenly thirsty so he emptied his glass. The sleek black cat was now looking at him and Reilly. She was in a long dress with a very high slit, which exposed her slender but voluptuous thigh. She sure didn't resemble anyone from back home, and Walter couldn't keep his eyes off of her. "Well, I don't know why they call her a butterfly. The few lucky ones that slept with her say so, though." "What's so special about her? She's just a -- just a whore after all." Walter spat out the unfamiliar word to hide his surprise. After all, he was nineteen now and far from home AND a marine. He felt he could use that word when he felt like it. But the bravado he wanted to show was sitting awkwardly on his shoulders. "Do you want to know, private, why I'm so special?" Suddenly, Walter heard her silky voice so near and clear. Apparently she had been listening to their small talk. Her alto voice was challenging. Walter stood up from the high stool. "Marine, huh?" She had a little accent. The woman looked Walter over from top to toe, at the kid who had broad shoulders but still lacked the bulk of more mature men. He was a foot taller than herself. His neck was thin and so were the limbs, his body just at the tail end of adolescence. From the marine buzz cut, she could see that he had dark brown hair, but she wasn't sure. She could see beyond the glasses, however, the glasses that hid his eyes. She smiled knowingly to herself. Why, he was just a baby! Those gentle brown eyes didn't fool her one bit. It caused her great humor that the kid was trying to appear so tough and manly. Walter just looked at her, not quite knowing how to react. He didn't know why she seemed to be laughing at him. Her warm sweet breath fell on Walter near his sweaty arm. All he knew was that this woman would be different from the other ones he had previously encountered. "Yeah, I want to find out why you're so special," Walter said slightly bewildered, pulling himself up to his tallest stance. He could feel Jack prodding his back to urge him on. Walter didn't know what his mother would think of what he'd been up to since he got here. It had been a different bar and a different girl every night. She rolled her eyes and almost laughed, but seemingly changed her mind. "Okay. Com'on Marine." She took Walter's arm and led him outside into the humid night. Behind them, Jack Reilly was dumbfounded and wondered why Walter got lucky with Miss Butterfly. She led him to a small neat house then into a dark and small room with a double bed apparently set for only one purpose. Walter sat on the edge of the bed nervously. "I don't have much money," he began awkwardly. Miss Butterfly or whatever her name was just laughed prettily. "I'm a giving person tonight, Private," she said. "Bargain price for you." Miss Butterfly sat beside him and began touching his torso. Somehow, it was different from all the encounters he'd had before on this island. It was different from all the others he'd ever had. "You're still so young. And beautiful." Enjoying Walter's embarrassment, her hands were now stroking his muscular upper body like feelers, as they were slowly stripping his clothes. She stared deeply into his eyes. "I also like your eyes. You must be serious and stubborn. What's your name?" "Skinner. Walter Skinner." He didn't like the tension in his own voice nor the big-sisterly attitude of this woman; nevertheless, he felt somewhat powerless before her. "Skinner? Oh my." She chuckled knowingly and teased lightly around his belly. "What's so funny?" The young man retorted tersely. Damn. His voice sounded as nervous and inexperienced as a teenaged schoolboy who was just going to lose his virginity. He wasn't sure if his voice even cracked with indignation. "We have a word sounding just like your name in our language." "And that means?" "Favorite." Then as she started to kiss Walter, his world condensed into the touch on his lips and the center of his body. "What's your name, and can I know why you're called a butterfly?" Skinner managed to say that, already out of breath and they were just beginning. She didn't answer him, instead kept driving him crazy with her all-knowing looks, fingers and heated breath. Walter felt so thirsty again and the hot rigid heat around his gut and groin was claiming all his attention. It was as if his whole body was now turning into a single big pulse trapped inside his own body, waiting to be detonated. He lost his mind when she teasingly put the rubber thing to his hardness. "I'm Mariko," She licked the younger man's neck. Although he was sweaty, he still smelled clean and she liked that. "And you'll see." Then she shed all her clothes. The experience was truly explosive. It was Skinner who 'bought' her services, but, instead, it was as if he paid to get permission to let her taste him. When she had Walter within her body, her body with all its Oriental mystique seemed to melt around him. Her skin was unbelievably silky, smooth and somewhat cool against Walter's burning body, but her inside was quite the opposite. Soon Walter forgot everything and could do nothing except to let her take care of him. He swore that he saw lights under his eyelids, many times. Before long, Walter pinned her down in bed, but it was Mariko who teased, explored, controlled and took him in. Walter didn't remember he shouted several times as he was catapulted into culmination. Just before Walter came and almost blacked out, he saw an exquisite tattoo of a butterfly that suddenly showed up on the now flushed skin of her right breast. It was cigarette smoke that brought Walter Skinner back to reality. Mariko was smiling down at him and gently patted his cheek. Walter knew he had passed out but somehow, he didn't mind; he was too stunned to play macho. "You enjoyed it?" Her voice was lazy but pleasant to his ear. Walter nodded at the rhetorical question. He tried to sit up, still dizzy from the really explosive sexual experience. When he reached his hand for her breasts, the butterfly's tattoo was nowhere to be seen. "What was that? I saw you had a tattooed butterfly there." "Yes." Mariko smiled, taking Walter's big hand in her own. "It's called -- I'm not sure how to translate it -- a powder tattoo. It's specially done, usually invisible under your skin, like hidden under make-up powder, but shows up only when you're excited or hot. It's weird, isn't it?" "Yeah," Impressed, Walter murmured. He had never seen that before, but it was surely suitable for her. He was very pleased, however, that her being with him made the tattoo show up. Most of the other girls he'd had on the island never seemed to be excited when he was with them. "How did you get it?" "It doesn't matter." Mariko puffed the smoke and put her cigarette into Walter's mouth. He tried not to cough. "What matters is that I'm not very easily aroused, Marine. Now, you're my favorite." Afterwards, Jack Reilly wanted to know how it was like, but Walter simply told him it was just great. He didn't tell him about the butterfly. It was rather flattering to be allowed to see that, and Walter supposed that's why the mystery remained as it was. * * * * * * >From then on, Walter had to see her once in a while. She apparently took a liking for him, considering the fact that his budget was almost next to nothing for the class of courtesan she was. Of course, Mariko was not always available. Walter often saw her with career officers, but he didn't mind. It was she who chose her customers, like a butterfly flying from one petal stamen to another. From the gossip at the base, Walter also learned that the local mob running that district was behind Mariko. Walter learned a lot from her in bed. Maybe it was due to her professional mask, but there was nothing pathetic about her. She praised him openly when she found out he made prominent "progress". Walter enjoyed and learned about men's and women's bodies that he had never known before. To be with her was just wonderful. Before long, Walter stopped regarding her as one of the prostitutes, but as a good companion. She was a passionate, sophisticated and joyful teacher. He spent his free time in the bar, looking for her as far as circumstances permitted. Some days he got lucky, some days he didn't. * * * * * * Mariko always called him her Marine. "I love your hands, my Marine." Mariko was stroking Walter's big powerful hands. They had just finished another enthusiastic "teaching" session. As always, everything was just wonderful, and Walter's brain was still dizzy after another sexual explosion. He felt heavy and he didn't give a damn about anything except the pleasant dullness after wonderful sex. Mariko was now scrutinizing his both palms, which tickled him a little. "You know, I can read palms," Mariko said it suddenly. "It runs in my family, among the women." "That's great." Absentmindedly, Walter enjoyed the warmth of her body lying next to him. "Okay, what do you have to tell me?" "Do you want to know?" She smiled mysteriously. Skinner nodded, although he didn't really believe such stuff. It was simply nice to have lazy chat with Mariko after having each other. It was especially thrilling enough to Walter and sent gooseflesh down his spine whenever he heard Mariko say, "Do you want to know?" Those words always held promises that never failed to excite him. "Okay. Let me tell you." Abruptly Mariko fell silent, which annoyed Walter beyond any reason. "What's wrong?" "You have a very unique palm, my Marine." She began. "You're strong-willed and intelligent." She pressed on an area of his palm. "You've got no brothers nor sisters. You enjoy robust health, but I can see there'll be some problem with abdominal area, eyesight and your..." Mariko began to chuckle. "What?" Walter got a little bit nervous. "Hey, you've got to tell me." "Nothing. Maybe you don't want to know about it yet. You'll know in twenty years or so. But it won't compromise your looks or your health, so don't worry." "At least it means I won't get killed in 'Nam." Walter regretted the moment he let it slip it out. Even if he was prepared to go there, thoughts of his mortality were on his mind because of the others who never came back. Mariko looked him straight in the eyes. "Yes. You might die once." "What?" "Here. Your lifeline was cut off. According to the position, it'll be very soon. But I can tell you'll live on, as after here, your line is restored and even thicker and deeper than ever. Maybe that's a beginning of something else. Then, you'll fight a battle of another kind, with a lot of difficult choices." Walter listened to her with eerie feeling, as her voice was dead serious. "There's also a big change in your life when you're in forties. It might be hard to take, but don't be afraid. Go get it. You must fight for it with all you've got. Because that's your destiny and your life will be changed forever." She looked up and stared at the young man. "That's it? Can't you be more concrete?" At Skinner's doubtful look, Mariko smiled innocently. "Yes, that's all I can read. Was I correct?" "At least that part that I'm an only child." Skinner murmured, but her pronouncements were too vague to believe seriously. "Okay. How about yourself, Mariko?" Skinner took her slender hand. It was so elegant, so fragile and so soft. He sighed despite himself. Miss Butterfly's magic hands. "I won't live long, Marine. If I lived up to forty, that'd be a windfall." "Why? Are you sick?" Apprehensively, Skinner asked. "No. It's another thing runs in my family, like the reading. I have a feeling. I'll die young just like my mother and my mother's mother. You know, Marine, I've been living like this since I was fourteen. I never knew other place. My mama had me when she was sixteen and she died at thirty-five. She raised me the way like I'm doing now. I don't know how I ended up like her, but here I am now." For the first time, Skinner saw Mariko's sad, resigned smile. "I'll keep living like this...spending my days only in the night and rarely saw the daylight...wearing and wearing myself...until one day, I'll be worn out and I'll no longer exist, and no one will remember me." These words sank into Walter rather deeply. Suddenly he felt guilty towards her. "If that happens, I suppose I'm responsible for that, too." Mariko was surprised at Walter's uncomfortable and naive expression. "Oh, no, no, my Marine." She smiled and snapped back to her usual self. "It's just a whore's rubbish. Forget it, young man. I won't die so easily, as I've still got a reason to live on." She drew him closer and led his hand to her warm wet corner. "But you're so sweet, my Marine. Com'on, I might need you now. You don't have to pay me for this one..." Walter Skinner saw the butterfly more clearly for second time for that night. * * * * * * Finally the Day came. The company Walter and Jack belonged were to be dispatched to Viet Nam, in two days. The waiting was over. Paradoxically, Walter felt somewhat relieved. That night he was lucky as the familiar bartender in his now usual hang out told Walter that Mariko would be available for him. Walter was killing time with cheap whisky, wondering if this might be the last time with her. He waited for her for more than one-and-half hours, but Mariko was nowhere in sight. By that time, the weather worsened dramatically. A big typhoon was approaching rapidly and was supposed to hit the Okinawa main island. When the warning was issued, Skinner stood up and got ready to return to the base. Maybe something happened or she had a more important customer. Maybe he could try tomorrow. At the least Walter wanted to say a proper goodbye. As he rose to leave, Walter heard an argument. The owner of the bar stood in front of a very small girl of about the age of five. She was pleading with the bar owner, while the manager was grim and apparently not happy with whatever it was. The girl was so tiny and helpless, which made Walter step in without a second thought. "What's wrong?" The bar owner turned around and said angrily in broken English that Mariko was faking being ill and couldn't come to work that night. He even complained loudly that the "bitch" hadn't been dealing with good customers and her earnings were down. "I see." Walter looked the timid child standing between the two grown men. "But what does this kid have to do about it?" "That's her damn kid." The manager spat out, surprising Walter. The girl surely inherited her mother's beautiful black eyes and silky hair. Then the manager murmured some Japanese curses and sent the little girl off into the stormy night. Walter couldn't leave the poor girl and somehow succeeded in convincing her with the words "mom" and "friend" in Japanese that he would like to send her home safely. At least the girl didn't run away and let him walk with her through the wind swept street. The girl led him to a small room in a shabby building in the back street. "Mama?" The girl ran to her mother, who was lying on a bed. Mariko's face was pale. Without its usual makeup, she looked more vulnerable than ever. Then Mariko was surprised to find Walter standing sheepishly at the narrow door. "I just wanted to see if you are okay, Mariko." He cleared his throat. "How are you feeling? Is there anything you need? I could get something for you." "Walter," She called his name and smiled weakly, but wholeheartedly. "Thank you. Just come here." Walter was relieved to know that Mariko was simply exhausted. At least she said so. The typhoon was rattling the windowsill. After eating a little, Mariko looked a lot better. The little girl was sleeping sweetly, so Mariko asked Walter to carry her in the next small room. "She's all I got." She smiled at her sleeping daughter and shut the sliding door. Skinner sat at Mariko's bedside, sipping his whiskey. "Are you raising her alone? Where's her father?" "He's dead. He was a member of the mob, but he was nice to me. At least to me. It was him who tattooed me the butterfly, saying I'd be more beautiful for him with this and it meant I was his." Mariko sighed and continued looking into Walter's eyes. "He was a big man, just like you, Marine. You don't think so now but in a few years you will grow into your body. When I was pregnant with her, he wanted out for us. And you know the drill? When you want out, you have to survive the rite." Her voice was soft and she was smiling nostalgically. "Unfortunately, he didn't survive." The tear hid her sad smile. "I'm sorry." That was all Walter could say to her. "I am too. But I still got my girl. Maybe it's too late for me, but she might make it. I won't let her ended up like me or my mama." "Can I do something for you? When I come back from the war, maybe I could help you out of here..." "Shhh, my Marine," Mariko put her finger to Walter's lips. "Don't say that. I'm really sorry, you don't have to know about all of this. You don't have to do nothing for me, either. You owe me nothing, don't you?" "I don't know," Skinner said uncertainly. Deep in his heart, he knew he was no different from the rest of customers or the mob. He, too, used her body for his convenience. Nevertheless, he knew that she was revealing herself to him more than to anyone, and he desperately wanted to answer to that reliance and her honesty. "But I want to help you. You're good to me. I don't want to go knowing you're in trouble and I don't want to regret that I could have done something for you," Walter continued somewhat desperately. "So you're going, too. Like everybody else." She reached her hands toward Walter's face. Her palms were unusually hot. "When?" "In two days." His voice failed him, a little. "I'll miss you, my Marine." Mariko sounded sincere. Walter didn't like the atmosphere. Anticipation for the war and concern for them agitated the marine. "You said I won't get killed out there, didn't you?" He sounded so childish and desperate. "I'll come back here to see if you're okay." "Walter, Walter..." Mariko smiled sweetly as she drew him closer to her bed, her hand stroking his upper body. "Thank you for your sweet lie." Then her lips met his. The storm became harder. The fierce wind mingling with the rain shook the tiny apartment. "It's not a lie, Mariko..." Again, his voice was cut off by a passionate kiss. "But I love you for your sincere lies. You'll soon forget about me, about us, about this place once you are gone to the war. I won't blame you for that, Walter. But your word, your saying you cared for me, will be something I'll remember for a very long time. And that will save me in the darkest time to come." Now she was on top of him, practically blocking Skinner's movement. Or he couldn't resist at all. Didn't want to, but he had to stop her. "Mariko, I don't want to...you're so tired. And your girl might wake up." "Let me give you my last gift, my Marine. My girl won't hear anything, because of this storm..." The storm roared all night and covered everything happened under its rampage. * * * * * * After the typhoon had gone, the sky was incredibly blue and the sunshine was blinding, as if nothing happened. There were scars, of course, lost lives and damage from the typhoon. People were hurt and struggling, even under this perfectly beautiful sky. Scarred by life itself. Walter couldn't believe he was going to war from this heavenly island. Likewise, he couldn't believe what happened two days earlier was real, not in his dream. He couldn't still believe such experiences were possible. They were about to board the C130 bound for Vietnam. Walter noticed Mariko was standing behind the barbed wire fence. She was seeing him off. Maybe she was seeing off the men to whom she sold bits of herself; the part of herself that would never come back alive. She had her small daughter beside her, holding her tiny hand. Mariko was wearing a plain cotton summer dress printed with countless little yellow flowers on it. It was the first time Walter Skinner ever saw her in daylight. She was just beautiful. The hot breeze blew her long black hair, which danced on her breasts, shoulders and placid, immaculate face. Walter blinked again, to take in the sight of her, for the last time. Then Mariko smiled to him. Her lips moved slowly yet clearly. Walter made out what she was saying. Bye-bye, my Marine. Walter nodded and tried to convey all of what he was feeling in his eyes and smiled back. Good-bye, Miss Butterfly. He said in silent voice and got on the plane. Just before the door shut, Walter had his last glimpse of Mariko and her daughter. The little girl was waving her tiny hand, smiling brightly. Soon the noise and vibration of the plane shook him out of his deep thoughts. The plane taxied on the tarmac and then took off. As the plane rapidly gained altitude, Walter saw small figures on the ground below. A yellow dress was dancing along with the wind, just like a lonely sweet yellow butterfly fluttering on a plain. Private Walter Sergei Skinner knew something was over. And something was about to begin, as everything on the earth sank below the thick tropical clouds. * * * * * * Mariko was right. Once Walter landed in Viet Nam, everything was forgotten except the drive to stay alive. He had to do so, to survive each and every second. He experienced the hell that words couldn't begin to describe. When he shot that small Vietnamese boy with grenades in the head, he thought it was over. He didn't think he could feel anything anymore. Even after he had the near-death experience as Mariko had predicted, Walter didn't remember what he had been told a lifetime ago in Okinawa nor who had told it. He was crushed by the war. He wasn't sure if he could live, as he was transferred stretcher-borne to Subic with the severe shrapnel injuries. Still, Walter Skinner survived and the life went on and on. * * * * * * * * "Hey Walter. Let me give you a hand there." AD Walter Skinner almost jumped at Fox Mulder's amused voice. How long did he space out? The beautiful Asian woman was still looking at him. Mortified, Skinner apologized to her again. "I'm really sorry." Beside him, Mulder was somewhat enjoying Skinner's discomfiture at the events that just happened. It was always cute seeing Skinner all flustered like this. The woman smiled sincerely. "Please don't mind. I was also careless." There was the distinct accent that Skinner recognized. Skinner, Mulder and the woman started to pick up the cookie packages, when the store personnel came to the rescue. Hiding his shock, Skinner studied her face quickly. Of course she was not Mariko and couldn't be her little daughter, either. She must be over thirty by now, if she were alive and well. His last thought stung Walter Skinner, but he let it pass. When the woman stood up, a pleasant looking Asian man came for her. Probably her lover or husband, Skinner supposed. She smiled at Skinner again and left cheerfully with her partner. Skinner saw them off, still riveted on the spot. "Walter? Are you okay?" Skinner turned to Mulder, when the secondary shock hit him hard. Inexplicably, he felt like crying, as every word Mariko had told him came back to him vividly and with eerie precision, after all those forgotten years. You might die once. Maybe that's a beginning of something else...then you'll fight a battle of another kind, with a lot of difficult choices...A big change in your life when you're in forties... might be hard to take, but don't be afraid. Go get it. You must fight for it with all you've got. Because that's your destiny and your life will be changed forever. Fox Mulder, his destiny, was standing in front of him. The one he loved more than anything in his life. Even more precious than his own life. A hot ache clogged his throat. You were right, Mariko, in everything, Skinner told her with his mind, in silence. You knew everything back then. That I'll never go back to you. I didn't even remember you, until today. What happened to you and your little girl? Are you still there, or anywhere else? Skinner wasn't sure, because if Mariko was really gifted, she might not be anywhere in this world. Yet, Skinner wanted to believe otherwise. * * * * * * Fox Mulder was wondering, what happened to the older man. But he didn't say anything and waited there for him. Mulder didn't miss the uncertain look that crossed Skinner's face and then was gone. The agent wondered what Skinner was thinking of. Maybe he'll tell me later, Mulder thought. "Let's go home, Fox." Gently, the AD smiled at the younger man, who smiled back. As they walked into the bright summer with Mulder pushing the cart of groceries they just bought, Skinner sensed he was still protected by someone he knew from the distant past. Walter Skinner put his arm across Fox Mulder's back and thought about the future. The End Kiyoko Ishimura / 10-Nov-1997 Feedback much appreciated at GHB00253@niftyserve.or.jp -------------------------------------------------- "A beacon in the night." Mulder in reference to Skinner Nisei --------------------------------------------------- If you want to see real Baccarat figurines you can take a look at www.the-forum.com/glass/baccarat.htm to give you an idea of what Skinner gave to Mulder. However, there are no fox figurines at that site. It's probably a limited edition.