Little Boy Lost
Disclaimer: Fox Mulder, Dana Scully and Walter Skinner et al do not belong to me; they belong to Chris Carter and Fox. I mean no harm and will make no money from their use.
Spoilers: Several for the end of the seventh and the eighth season.
Setting: Eighth Season.
Rating: PG. Discipline, no slash.
Summary: Skinner faces the unthinkable reality of Mulder's abduction
June 2000
Somewhere in Oregon
Sunlight was finally beginning to filter through the trees as the second wave
of searchers arrived at the clearing below. Nadira Singh, the SAC in charge
of the search and rescue operation, walked slowly to the top of the hill,
where Assistant Director Walter Skinner stood silent watch over her returning
agents.
"Sir?" She said but he didn't respond so she placed a small hand on his
shoulder. She didn't intend to startle him, but they still hadn't found his
missing agent, and it showed wearily on the man in front of her. He jumped
slightly.
"Anything?" Skinner asked roughly.
"I'm sorry, sir," she answered, her voice communicating her frustration.
"You wanted me to remind you of the time." The AD's flight was scheduled to
depart from the Portland airport in a little over two hours, and he nodded
sharply at the reminder.
Singh lowered her eyes for a second, silently acknowledging his discomfort.
Then she continued, quietly, her tone communicating her dismay at what she
had to report. "We're making copies of what little evidence we HAVE found.
But, now that the sun is up, we should be able to make a better inspection of
the area. If Agent Mulder is still out there, we'll find him."
Skinner glanced upwards, as if scanning the treetops, and his eyes took on a
faraway, glazed look as he nodded again.
Singh watched him, unsure what to make of his actions. "Is there anything
else you'd like us to do?" she asked.
"No." It wasn't quite a whisper, but his response didn't carry far over the
activity around them, and she barely caught it. Around them, the camp
bustled with sound as the first set of search teams returned and issued their
reports, and the next set retrieved their assignments, filled their water
bottles, and headed defiantly into the trees. But between the Assistant
Director and Special Agent Singh, there was only silence.
"Your driver is waiting by the car," she said finally, breaking the silence.
"With your permission, I'd like to check on that evidence file."
Again he nodded, but the female agent hesitated briefly before leaving him
alone. It might just be fatigue, but the AD seemed to be functioning on
auto-pilot at the moment, and it worried her. "Are you all right, sir?"
It took a moment, but the AD finally focused on her, and his eyes lost that
glazed faraway look. He blinked a few times, and she chose to ignore the
faint signs of moisture as he rubbed his eyes. "Why don't you check on that
file? I'll be down in a moment to collect it."
"Yes, sir."
The AD turned as she walked away, his gaze locked on the tree line and the
returning men, looking - she knew - for Mulder.
June 1999
Crystal City, Virginia
More than a dozen children were scattered over the small playground. Some of
the littler ones were being swung on the toddler swings and some older kids
were one the regular ones, trying to see who could swing the highest.
Five boys were on the climbing tower, a combination monkey bars and slide
that was made to resemble a space ship. Four of them were seven or eight
years old. But one, the one who had climbed the highest, appeared to be no
more than four.
Walter Skinner sat on a bench not far away, watching anxiously. The doctors
estimated Fox was between three and four years of age now, an age where he'd
begun to test the boundaries, and try a little independence on for size. At
least that's what the book Skinner held in his hand read. He'd picked it up
in a bookstore once he was certain the boy would be staying with him. True
to his nature, the Assistant Director wanted to be armed with as much
knowledge as possible for the task that lay ahead.
The fact was, the child was a fascinating mix of independence and insecurity.
He'd go headlong into the unknown, then look over his shoulder to make sure
"Daddy" was within sight. Skinner nearly called out to him as he watched the
boy swing himself down from the top platform to the top of the slide. Fox
stopped, a giant smile on his face, and waved at the AD.
"See me," he called out proudly.
"Yes, I see you," Skinner called back. "Be careful, okay?"
"He's adorable," a woman beside him interrupted. "Single father?"
Skinner was nonplussed by the question. He still hadn't grown used to it, or
developed an automatic response. "Y-yes," he replied. "How did you know?"
"Your book," the woman answered with a smile. "If there was a mother in the
picture, she'd probably be doing the research."
Skinner smiled sheepishly. "I don't have too much free time-"
"I know the story," the woman answered. "I'm a single parent, too. I've
seen you with your son. You're a natural. I don't think you need any
books...."
Skinners eyes drifted to Fox, standing at the top of the slide. He looked
like he was surveying the playground, taking in all the details from his
perch. At moments he looked exactly like his adult self. Mulder was an
inveterate collector of data.
"Well, I don't know abut being a natural," Skinner said, returning his
attention to the woman. "So far, it's been one surprise after another."
On top of the slide, Fox's eyes strayed toward the area behind the hill in
back of the playground. There were horses there, and policemen. All in a
row, they trotted along the park drive at a fast clip.
Fox slid down and took off toward the hill as fast as his little legs would
carry him. If he hurried, the horses might still be there when he got to the
other side.
Skinner was listening patiently as the woman beside him described her life
raising two little girls alone and working for a Washington lobbying firm.
He nodded as she described her inability to find enough hours in each day.
He was experiencing that problem himself of late. But as she continued, his
eyes were searching the climbing tower. Fox had been there a minute ago. He
watched a boy's head pop out of the tunnel that connected the monkey bars
with the slide but he was too old to be Fox. The AD's eyes began to roam the
rest of the playground, intently, as the first drops of rain began to fall.
A strong wind whipped up at the same moment.
"Oh, damn!" the woman exclaimed as she rose and began gathering her things.
"It wasn't supposed to rain until tonight!"
Less than ten minutes later, Walter Skinner was frantic with worry. He'd
taken his eyes off Fox for thirty seconds, a minute at most. Now he wanted
to kick himself. The child had wandered off. Or been snatched. Either way,
the AD was berating himself internally for letting it happen.
"Sir, we'll find him," a DC cop told him when he flagged down a patrol car to
ask for help. But now the rain was pelting down, hard and cold, falling
relentlessly. "We've got it out on the radio. Someone will spot him-"
Skinner nodded but words wouldn't come from his dry mouth or tight throat.
Fox was not quite three, he'd told them, taking his best guess about what
age the little boy looked. He'd described him in great detail from the color
of his sneakers to the jeans and blue and gray striped tee-shirt he was
wearing under a navy hooded sweatshirt. The officer had marveled at his
recall but Skinner knew he'd remember everything about this day, this point
in time, if he didn't find the child. If the worst had happened and that
cigarette-smoking bastard or Krycek had followed them and taken Fox, Skinner
would remember every second and ever last detail of this day.
"Please, God," he whispered to himself under his breath, trying not to lose
his cool and failing miserably. He was torn between wanting to run through
the park, shouting Fox's name, and waiting right there in the patrol car
until someone spotted Fox. He balled his hands into fists and a bolt of
tension shot through him, tightening his neck and jawline. He didn't need a
doctor to tell him his blood pressure was dangerously high. He could hear
his own blood pounding in his ears. Sitting behind two officers whose names
he could not remember, he cruised slowly through the park, searching to no
avail.
Thunder crashed overhead and was followed by a bolt of lightning that nearly
touched the ground ahead of the car. Then the rainfall quickened yet again,
making it almost impossible to see anything. Skinner searched the wooded
area frantically, wondering if the little boy would seek shelter there.
Suddenly there was movement in a stand of trees in the distance and Skinner
bounded out of the car, running towards it. A dozen yards before he reached
him, he could hear Fox crying in fear.
"Fox!" Skinner called as he sprinted toward the child, gathering him into his
arms. He was soaking wet and shaking from the cold as well as being scared.
"It's okay, honey. It's okay-"
"No it's not!" the little boy sobbed as if he were grief-stricken. His
entire body shook with fear. "You losted me! You LOSTED ME!"
Skinner hugged the nearly hysterical child and began rocking him gently. "I
didn't lose you," he told the crying child softly. "You wandered away-"
"NO!" the boy screamed at him, working himself into a frenzy. "You're
s'posed to watch me. And you LOSTED ME!"
Skinner wrapped his arms around Fox protectively and spoke to him quietly.
The little body shuddered and he sobbed once more.
"You losted me," the boy sniffled accusingly.
Northwest Airlines Flight #211
Somewhere over Ohio
A hand on his shoulder jolted him out of the nightmare, but not before the
child's exhausted cries and accusations had marked him. It was happening all
over again...
Walter Skinner could still hear the child's cry even as the grip of sleep
receded. "You losted me," the small boy wailed, his terror and sense of
abandonment palpable. The image of a fully-grown Fox Mulder stood in the
clearing, eyes boring into the AD. "You lost me," the young agent shouted
accusingly, just before his body was sucked into a vortex-
Skinner's fingers gripped the armrests, trying to ground himself in time and
space. He closed his eyes against the bleak and obscene reality. More than
eighteen hours earlier, Skinner had placed the first call to the Bureau
office in Portland, ordering a search party and a forensics team to the site.
He'd spent the first five minutes or so after.... after it happened staring
mindlessly into the dark sky, his brain screaming words he couldn't now
recall. He'd spent the next twenty minutes running around the area shouting,
hoping against hope what he'd seen had been some kind of hallucination.
"Agent Mulder! Agent Mulder, can you hear me? Mulder! Mul--- Fox! Fox!
FOX!" He'd stopped when his voice grew hoarse but he'd circled the clearing
a few dozen more times, checking the treed areas that surrounded it, praying
there'd be an unconscious but relatively unharmed young man behind one of the
giant trees. But it was to no avail....
"Sir?" a voice whispered. "Sir, are you all right? You seem to have been
having a nightmare."
Skinner opened his eyes and saw a pretty young flight attendant looking at
him with concern. "Yes," he said quickly, embarrassed. "Yes, a nightmare.
I'm-I'm okay. Thank you."
"Can I get you something?" the woman asked quietly. "A drink of water? Or-"
"Scotch," he answered succinctly. "Straight up." Skinner turned to the
window and resumed staring out into the gray sky.
The plane landed an hour later and Skinner walked woodenly out of the jetway
and into the airport terminal. He was proceeding like an automaton at this
point, not certain where he'd go next. And yet knowing. There was one thing
he had to do, before any of the other urgencies.
Skinner took a cab to his apartment in Crystal City. Every fiber in his
being screamed that he should lie down. His body ached, and his heart and
soul did too. But there were things to do. Reports to write. People to
see. And one particular person he had to see today. He stepped into a
bracing, cold shower, letting the water shock his nerves back to a waking
state. Then he dressed and headed to the hospital.
It wasn't visiting hours but he flashed his FBI credential and was admitted
to Scully's room. She stared at him, her large, blue eyes questioning him
silently. He tried to find the words.
"I-I lost him," Skinner finally said, unable to articulate it in any other
way. His professional training failed him as the walls came crashing down.
He'd lost Fox. The man he'd grown to love like a brother, the boy who'd
turned that relationship into a father son attachment that belied their lack
of genetic connection. What did genes matter, when the heart knew the truth?
And now Skinner himself knew a truth he'd never really contemplated - and
lost his only son, perhaps forever, as a result.
"I know," she'd replied.
Then she'd proceeded to shock him to his core with her news. She was
pregnant. Dana Scully was pregnant. *With Fox's child?* His mind begged
for more information, more details, but he held his tongue. And simply held
her, once she'd told him her secret. She'd begun to cry, just a few stray
tears the legendary Scully self-control couldn't restrain. He'd reached out
instinctively, sitting down on the side of her bed and embracing her,
reassuring her with his physical presence and a few murmured, soothing
noises. Until she'd regained her equilibrium and sat back against the
pillows, communicating her thanks and her embarrassment in a small, fleeting
smile.
"I'll talk to you... soon," he stammered as he prepared to leave a second
time. "I-I have to file a report and they'll want to ... debrief me. And...
and then I have to tell my family... about...." He shook his head. *About
losing Fox. I have to tell my parents that I lost him... too. Just like
Jeremy.*
Scully didn't hear his internal dialogue but she sensed his guilt and wanted
to do something to allay it. "It wasn't your fault, sir," she said. "We'll
find him. Like you said. We'll find him somehow."
The AD stared at her a moment, tears burning the backs of his eyes once again. Then he nodded, unable to speak. He picked up his trench coat and turned, taking a tentative step toward the door. He stopped and looked back momentarily, nodding one more time before straightening his shoulders and heading out to do all the things that had to be done now. These were his responsibilities, just as Scully and her child.... *Fox's child? For God's sake, is it possible?* Just as Scully and her baby would be his responsibility... until they found Fox. However long it took, and however hard he had to drive himself, they would find Fox Mulder. Heart, mind, soul, it was the only outcome he could contemplate at any level of his being.
Suddenly the AD realized he recognized this place, this hospital. About a year earlier, when Fox was a baby again, he had been hospitalized here. It seemed a lifetime ago now. Skinner's gaze fell upon the double doors before him, the entry to the hospital chapel. He knew he had things to do but there was something more important he had to do first.
"Please God," he whispered under his breath and he struggled to put one foot in front of the other, walking up the short aisle to the altar. Once there, he fell to his knees, shaking and let his head fall forward into his hands. "Please... let us find him. Please. He doesn't deserve this. If you have to take someone.... let it be me, God. That's all I ask."
To be continued....