TITLE: Stocking Stuffers
AUTHOR: Amazon X
E-MAIL: yankeestarbuck@yahoo.com
WEBSITE: http://yankeestarbuck.tripod.com
FEEDBACK: Oh, my goodness, you'd better!
CATEGORY: vignette, Ursula Challenge
RATING: PG-13 for swearing and allusions to a slash
(M/M) relationship
SUMMARY: A case of abductions leads the agents, and
others, to a local mall to try and catch the bastard.
ARCHIVE: Anywhere, just ask and tell me where it's
going.
DISCLAIMER: I never intended to write a
straight-forward X-Files ep, but then again, neither did Ten-Thirteen after a
while, did they? But they created them, I just fuck with them when I can.
NOTES: This is an Ursula challenge. I'm getting stuff.
Should I explain more? OK, here is the original challenge: "X-File
Character of your choice MUST: Play Santa at a store as undercover assignment
or because they are down and out. What happens from there is your choice."
OK, here it is. And no sex, how messed up is that! Well, just the allusion to
it. This takes place during S9, before "William". But certain
episodes didn't exist. And ya'll know which one I mean.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Oh, this is such a challenge. No sex
and I have to come up with an X-File. I'm so fucking lousy at that! Well, it's
a learning experience, isn't it? I hope it goes well for you guys! This is
dedicated to my beta, Erynn, who I forgot to thank for beta in my Thanksgiving
fic, and also who helped me with the fine points of the story. You are a
top-notch lady, Erynn and if it weren't for you, I wouldn't be half the writer
that I am! I love you, Bosslady!
Stocking Stuffers
by
Amazon X
MARLEY STATION MALL
GLEN BURNIE, MD
EARLY AFTERNOON
If anyone had told Walter Skinner that he would be
sitting in a shopping mall, dressed as Santa Claus for a case, he would have
told them that they were insane. He would never have guessed himself. But how
do you tell your boss to fuck off, you don't do the holidays?
"Sir, please, let me again tell you that I am not
the man for this job." He was pleading; he was praying in his mind. Dear
Lord, please let the Director change his mind.
"So what you're telling me is that I've passed on
every male agent in the entire bureau to ask you to do this, and I'm wrong?
You're telling me I'm wrong, Walter."
Skinner sighed quietly. "No, sir, I'm telling you
that you think too highly of me. I cannot do this assignment as you ask."
"Why is that? I need you to help me understand
why this is so difficult? I know you're a private man, Walter, but I'm sorry,
this is huge. Children are disappearing from malls all over the country. And
it's made its way here, fast. There are no bodies and there are no leads. We
are the Federal Bureau of Investigations. This is our job, Walter. Tell me why
you can't do your job. Is it the fact that you have no particular love for
children? Is it that you get melancholy around the holidays missing your late
wife? Tell me, please, so that I can understand."
Walter smiled and took another deep breath, finding
his shoes particularly interesting. "You are a very smart man, sir."
"That is why they've made me the director. And
hopefully, one day, they'll be smart and do the same with you. Now, are you
going to save the children of
Skinner smiled, stood to shake the director's hand and
walked out of the office. He met Scully, who would work with his as Mrs. Claus.
Everything had been finalized in the overnight meeting the task force had held
in the north wing war room. It was decided, and plans were being put into
motion. Eleven children had disappeared from eleven different malls in
"You're very quiet, sir," Scully noted at a
red light on
And she stopped. Skinner looked over at her. "To
what, Agent Scully?"
"I...I...I don't know, sir. You don't talk much
about yourself."
"Would you listen if I did?" Skinner didn't
turn his head toward her, not needing to see the hurt in her eyes.
"Sir, I...with the baby and Mulder and..."
"I know, Dana. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said
that." The blush of shame burned heavily in his cheeks. "This time of
year is...not...fun for me."
"I'm sorry, sir. I guess not...well..."
Skinner smiled and snorted a small laugh. "Yes,
Scully looked over at Skinner, waiting, hoping finally
to get some of the closeness Mulder boasted with Skinner. "Tell her what,
Walter?"
"I can't father children. A...by-product of
surviving that ambush in
"Was that the reason you both separated?"
"We separated after I started sleeping in the
guest room. I'd really rather not relive this, Agent Scully." The walls
went up so fast, Scully's head spun. They were silent for the rest of the
drive. Scully was relieved to pull into the mall parking lot. Doggett and Reyes
met them straight off and led them to the staging area. With his usual, frank
efficiency, Doggett related the security measures being taken to ensure that
not only was the perpetrator captured, but the child was safe as well.
Skinner didn't subscribe to the type of law
enforcement that supported "acceptable losses". The Director was
right. There were eleven missing children, ages
Skinner sat with barely suppressed anger as Reyes
clucked over him, applying the beard and eyebrows with spirit gum. She meant
well, and Skinner doubted she knew how pissed off she was making him. "Do
I really need the eyebrows, Agent Reyes?"
"Sir, if I may, even though your hair has gone
lighter than it was year ago, your eyebrows have yet to catch up. I think the
white hair and beard and thick black eyebrows wouldn't be authentic."
"Do you think I care so much about
authenticity?" Skinner looked at her pointedly, hoping his stare was
boring a hole or two in her soul.
But she just plastered a serene smile on her face and
said, "Sir, if anyone can teach a lesson in attention to detail, it's you.
Do you want to disappoint the children? The ones who are here to see
Santa?"
Taking a deep breath, Skinner closed his eyes and
tilted his head back slightly to allow Reyes to finish applying the white,
puffy eyebrows to his face. Scully watched from a safe distance with Doggett
flanking her.
"You think he's really doing this
voluntarily?" Doggett whispered with trepidation in his tone.
"No, he isn't. The Director asked him personally.
He usually isn't this...cooperative."
"No kidding."
Reyes smiled down at Skinner, who'd opened his eyes.
Two pairs of brown eyes watched each other, one jovial, one wary. "Sir may
I speak frankly, off the record?"
"If you must." Skinner didn't like the sound
of this.
"I would have loved to see a picture of you in
your youth. I've seen the photos from the academy archives, but I'm not sure
they do you justice. Not one shows you smiling."
"I don't smile."
"You'd better do some today, or you'll have a lot
of kids crying on your lap."
Skinner took a deep breath. "How did I let him
bully me into this?"
"I didn't make you do this, sir," Reyes
huffed, her calm demeanor falling quickly.
"I meant the Director. HE forced me into
this." Skinner's tone dripped with venom.
"I'm sure it's because he wanted the job done
right, sir. And I would think you should feel flattered."
"I'm not, Agent Reyes. I am only here to catch a
kidnapper, and for no other reason. Is that clear?"
With a smirk and hidden giggle, Reyes nodded and
stepped away to get the rest of the Santa Claus costume, belly padding and
boots. Slipping into the clothes, Skinner was not happy to feel his body
temperature slowly rising. "Jesus Christ, I'll be sweating like a
racehorse in no time."
Reyes smiled. "Sir, you look just fine. And the
children will love it."
With a grunt, Skinner stalked to the quasi-arena set
up in the middle of the mall. Scully had gone to change into her costume as
Mrs. Claus and Reyes was going to be an elf. Doggett would wear a mall security
uniform and patrol the outer edges of the crowds.
The agents tried very hard not to laugh at Skinner,
but somewhere in his mind, he thought he could see them snickering and laughing
at him. Even though they weren't. But being laughed at was nothing new to
Skinner. His family laughed at him when he enlisted for Vietnam, they laughed
when he decided being a police officer wasn't enough and he wanted to join the
FBI, after spending five years in night school for his criminal justice degree.
They stopped laughing at him when he began solving important cases.
They didn't know he was being helped by members of the
Consortium, Spender in particular. Yes, Skinner was ashamed of his actions, but
knowing that his brothers and sisters didn't laugh at him anymore, the doctors
and lawyers and engineers, and their wives. His father, the self-made head of
his own family medical practice, had respect for an assistant director of the
FBI. Finally, the youngest Skinner boy had come into his own.
And knowing what he knew, if Skinner could go back and
stay an honest cop, he would have. He liked the community he worked in, in
Indiana, Pennsylvania. It was quiet, everyone knew him, and more importantly,
the community respected him. He held no respect for himself in his current
position. Especially not dressed as he was.
Tom Petty said waiting was the hardest part, and
Skinner understood completely. He sat on a gilded throne, made of sprayed
pressboard and paper machete stairs leading up to it and down from it for the
children. Scully would assist the children up and sit them on Skinner's lap. It
was up to Skinner to find out what they wanted and then take the obligatory
picture. The idea at how "cute" they looked was enough to make his
breakfast roll in his belly. The real one, not the padded lump over his flatter
abdomen.
It was terrible. It was horrible. It was the most
excruciating time of his life. But he smiled. And he laughed. And the children
smiled and laughed at him. Or were they laughing with him. By the middle of the
afternoon, he didn't quite care. Screaming children, shouting mothers, the
stifling heat and the damn merchant across the way with his damn mechanical
stuffed animals was annoying the life out of him. And he was concerned why
there was a huge taxidermy kiosk near children shopping for toys.
After getting word from Skinner through Scully,
Doggett wandered over to the huge kiosk to review the man's stand. He would
report to Skinner when they broke for lunch.
At lunch, Skinner sat with his red jacket off and
belly padding laid aside to eat. Scully handed him the plate of mall cafeteria
pasta, and looking at the oil collecting, Skinner said a small prayer for his
stomach. He would be paying with ulcer medicine for days. But they needed to
debrief from the morning's surveillance, share information and come up with an
idea on how to figure out who the next victim might be.
"Sir, I gotta admit, I think today may not be the
day," Doggett reluctantly said. "The guy seems to like a kid from a
big family. Likes a distracted mom, and he grabs them like that."
Skinner shook his head. "What is with that booth
with the birds? It looks a little too creepy for Christmas. Is it left over
from Halloween?"
"Yeah, he's a taxidermist. Got all these owls,
like from Harry Potter."
"Who?"
All three agents, and a few who were sitting by them,
all turned to look at a truly perplexed assistant director.
"Sir, Harry Potter is the main character in a
series of kids' books and now to be a series of movies," Reyes explained.
"It's a very popular story. I've read the books myself."
"Sorry, Agent Reyes, I guess I'm not quite up on
my youth fiction as I should be. When I'm not keeping up with endless reports,
I barely have enough time to make it through the Washington Post. But thank you
for this little mini-course on children's reading habits."
The three agents looked at each other as if to say,
'Tread lightly, Stoneface Skinner is on the warpath.' They went back to eating
until Doggett spoke up again. "Sir, that taxidermist, he's got owls out
there, and the kids seem to like it. I'm gonna keep my eye on him."
"You do that, Agent Doggett. I'm sure he's the
one. Yes, situated so close to the action, right where he can be seen by all
the parents and children. What does he do with the child?"
"I don't know yet, sir." All three agents
noticed Skinner's derisive tone and though he was getting a bit abusive. Scully
stayed behind to help Skinner put the costume back on.
"Sir, I think you're being a little hard on
Agents Reyes and Doggett. They're working as hard as anyone here."
"Except me. I'm the one with a lapful of
children, forcing smiles in this godforsaken season. All I'd like to do is
finish my reports and spend my day off resting my eyes. Is that too much to
ask?"
"No, sir. I'm sorry. I was going to ask you if
you had plans for Christmas. My mother wanted to invite you if you were free.
She's got the room."
Skinner smiled at her, taking a moment to check his
temper. She was only trying to be nice. They all were. He should give it a shot
himself. "Thank you, Dana. I know I'm being difficult. I'm sorry. Tell
your mother Christmas sounds nice."
They finished dressing and returned to the mall floor
where the children were waiting, none too patiently. Screaming and yelling,
crying and fighting, the children wouldn't stop. Skinner wanted to massage his
temples, wanted to take off his glasses and rub his eyes, wanted to thrash
himself for not using the bathroom before sitting back down on his throne. But
he watched the crowds as much as he looked at all the children who sat on his
lap and smiled and said, "I love you, Santa." Children who gave him
hugs and kisses on his cheek, and who told them that they wanted a job for
their parent, or medicine for their sibling, or for the fighting overseas to
end so their father could come home for the holidays.
Skinner didn't realize how much kids thought about
current events, what their brains really held, how much of the world they
understood, and how much they didn't. It became harder to tell them he would do
his best to make sure they got what they wanted, when they wanted a cure for
leukemia or Neurofibromatosis. He wasn't even sure how a child who looked like
he was about six years old knew that word. But the boy was determined to find
the cure for his sister. Skinner fought hard to keep the tears back on more
than one occasion.
Scully stood before her boss and looked down into his
wistful eyes. "Sir, is everything all right?"
"Scully, who would have guessed children would
want an end to war and a cure for cancer for Christmas?" He shook his
head.
"Sir, children are amazing, aren't they?"
He nodded quietly. There was a flash of light and a
popping sound. Skinner looked up and saw a puff of smoke billowing from the
kiosk owned by the taxidermist. He seemed to be trying to make his way around
the back of it to get to where three children stood crying. Skinner couldn't
see too well as far away as he was. But he did see Doggett hovering close by.
The child to his right began to cry, so turning away, Skinner immediately began
to try and calm the girl down. He was thankful that her mother took her off his
hands.
Skinner watched Scully's and Reyes' faces for signs of
trouble, but their smiles didn't fade. Until the screaming. It was a woman this
time, calling her son's name. "DAY-VID!" over and over until Skinner
thought he'd scream at her to stop. And then he realized it. The boy was gone.
"Scully, seal the mall, this is the snatch!"
Skinner shouted and watched as his agents jumped into action. He stood from the
throne and walked down the display to where agents swarmed the mother. He stood
back and observed the situation logically. The woman had four children with
her, minus the missing boy. They were milling about, near Reyes, who was asking
them what they saw. She had been paying for the photographs taken, a couple of
the children were fighting and she was arguing with another.
It was the perfect set up. Skinner motioned to one of
the agents to hand him a radio. He took it and called into it, "I want all
videotapes of the boy from when he left my lap to just moments ago reviewed
immediately. I want all waiting families taken to the waiting area on the other
side of the mall. I want every inch of this area searched carefully. This child
did not disappear under our noses. Now, move!"
Skinner strode to the door where he knew he could get
rid of his costume and change back into his suit. He was just wiping his hands
on a paper towel, having washed the spirit gum from his face and finally gone
to the bathroom, when the radio shouted to life, "We've got him! Skinner
to the main floor, we have the boy!"
Skinner took off at a run toward the main floor where
he was greeted with a sight that would puzzle him for years. Doggett was
correct to keep the taxidermist in mind. The man had designed his hollow log
floor stand to appear seamlessly sealed. There was a hinge that opened it and
it was there that he concealed the small boy. He was unconscious, under the
affect of a drug, according to Scully. They were rushing him to North Arundel
hospital for initial triage, then to Bethesda for treatment.
Skinner sat beside Scully in the car as they followed
the police car containing the taxidermist to the local police station. Skinner
spent the entire trip on his cell phone, and hurriedly followed Scully into the
station to await the man's processing. They paced, they bit nails, they argued,
they drank bad coffee, but all the waiting was worth the moment the three
agents and their assistant director walked into the interrogation room with the
man they now knew to be Ezekiel Clement Taylor.
Skinner circled the man sitting at the table. He
wasn't quite as tall as Skinner was, and was thinner by at least fifty pounds.
His mouse-brown hair was oily and too long, but not long enough to fashionable.
His piggish eyes were deep set and too close together. His skin should have
been Caucasian beige, but it was tinted a grayish-green from years of exposure
to the taxidermy chemicals. Skinner took the chair opposite the man and began
the staring contest. Doggett, Reyes and Scully stood back, pacing in their own
individual circles.
"So, Mr. Taylor, would you like to tell me why
you drugged that boy and put him in the hollow tree trunk?"
The slimy man looked into Skinner's eyes, barely registering
the man across from him and said, "I thought I was getting' a lahw-yer. I
need me a real lahw-yer. You folk can jess kiss mah ass until I git me a
lahw-yer."
Skinner stood abruptly, throwing the chair back,
almost hitting Doggett. "You will tell me where the other children are!
What have you done with them?"
Doggett grabbed Skinner's sleeve and pulled the big
man back. "He isn't talking, sir. He won't talk to us. He wants his damn
lawyer. We can't use anything else."
"Use! There are either eleven missing children or
eleven fucking bodies, John! I don't really care about what we can use in court
right now!" The redness of crept Skinner's face as his anger increased.
Doggett grabbed Skinner by the shoulders and forced him out of the interrogation
room. The door slammed behind them. Through the viewing window, he watched as
Reyes and Scully tried to speak to Taylor further. Skinner paced as he watched.
The man remained silent. Both Scully and Reyes abandoned the room.
"He won't talk to us, sir. He keeps asking for a
lawyer," Scully informed them. Skinner tossed his empty Styrofoam cup
across the room in a vain attempt at the waste basket. He felt the fight drain
out of him through his size 13D wingtips into the floor.
"Get him a lawyer, but leave him there until
counsel arrives. No food, no water, no toilet, no cigarettes. If he's gonna
make the kids suffer, I'm gonna do the same to him."
Doggett walked out of the room and went looking for
the civilian administrative assistant to call the DA's office. Scully and Reyes
stood side by side, staring through the window at Taylor. He looked in their
direction, but all he saw was a mirror.
The tones of Beethoven's "Ode to Joy"
tinkled through the small room. Skinner fumbled for his cell phone and flipped
the cover open. "Skinner."
"They're in a pit, about two miles south east
into Prince William Forest Park. Start at Independent Hill, in Virginia. Get
plenty of medical attention. Some of the kids are close to death."
"Who is this?" Skinner shouted, but didn't need
to. He knew exactly who was behind the deep, gravel-ground voice that told him
what Taylor wouldn't. "Who are you?"
"They have some water, a few blankets, but you
need to get there fast. It's the other side of Quantico. Go!" And the line
went dead.
Skinner turned to his two agents. "Who was that,
sir?" Scully asked. She was wary of Skinner, still to this day, but knew
that, ultimately, he would do what was right.
"Someone who told me where he's stashed the
children."
"Wait, you just listen to someone who calls you
out of the blue?" Reyes asked, completely taken aback by Skinner's
whole-hearted attitude toward the unsubstantiated information.
"Agent Reyes, someone who has my private cellular
number and calls me about a case that hasn't been reported yet, with details
not in any case file, I tend to listen to." Skinner shrugged into his
overcoat and headed for the door. A small, gentle hand on his arm stopped his
with all the force of a freight train. Skinner turned to the diminutive
redhead, who wore a look of concern touched with pity.
"Was it..." She didn't continue her
question. Skinner turned and left. His message to her was clear. Skinner barked
orders at the agents waiting outside the observation room to mobilize the
rescue efforts. He met Scully at her car and followed the many agents and
police cars that would be joined by ambulances from all over the area near
Independent Hill, Virginia.
Keeping her eyes on the road, Scully gripped the wheel
tightly. How did he always know? Skinner looked over at her and shook his head.
"I have no idea, Dana. He only calls when it benefits him."
She looked at him a moment, shocked and amazed at his
omniscience. He was an amazing man.
*-*-*
PRINCE WILLIAM FOREST PARK
INDEPENDENT HILL, VA
Skinner followed the pack of agents and bloodhounds as
they trampled through the forest, heedless of the noise they were making. If
the information was good, they would come upon the pit where he'd said the
children had been left. How he knew was a very good question, and one that
Skinner wanted the answer to. He knew he was ruining a pair of very good shoes
by plodding blind through mud puddles and low bushes. Another suit ruined in
the course of work.
There was shouting up ahead, and the dogs were barking
in one long, loud sound. Skinner followed and waited at the forefront, watching
the black pit and the lights that flicked around in the hole. What flitted by
in little yellow circles turned his stomach. Eleven small bodies, filthy and
huddled in a mass of attempted warmth-sharing, lay in the pit waiting for
rescue. Scully, Reyes and Doggett, followed by the EMTs and more agents,
arrived on the scene. Scully gasped loudly, her thoughts immediately fleeting
to her son, safe at his grandmother's house.
In a flurry of equipment, ladders were lowered into
the pit and EMTs were dispersed to check on the children. Construction
spotlights were erected to light the way. A crude pulley system was strung to
haul the children on stretchers out to be carried to waiting ambulances. Scully
came to stand beside Skinner and held his hand.
"Sir, how did he know if he didn't do this?"
She was quiet, so that others wouldn't hear her, but she was concerned with
Skinner's misguided loyalty. It was a loyalty she thought was tinged with fear.
And that wasn't a good way to work, or live.
"Agent Scully, I think your medical expertise may
be needed in that pit. I suggest you get down there." Skinner let go of
her hand. She waited a beat, hoping he would turn to her and give her some hope
that her fears weren't real, but he stood stock still, as stoic as the trees
around them.
It was frightening. The children were silent, not
crying, not whimpering or screaming. Some were unconscious, some were
shivering, but most were just staring at the rescue workers with large, dull
eyes that took up most of their faces. They all smelled of waste, as if they
were incontinent throughout their entire captivity. Skinner was ready write
them all off as "damaged beyond repair" until he heard one little
voice. It was a little girl, clear and coherent, asking to speak to her uncle,
who was a very important man. Skinner knew it had to have been the councilman's
niece.
"Lucy? Are you Lucy Fenderman?" Skinner
crouched beside the girl who had just been laid on a stretcher. They clapped an
oxygen mask on her face and began moving the stretcher in the direction that
led to the ambulances. Skinner followed and looked down at her. "Lucy, can
you tell me who gave you guys the water and the blankets?"
She nodded behind her oxygen mask. Skinner waited but
she didn't speak. He followed her to the ambulance and climbed in with the
EMTs. The men worked on the little girl, giving her an IV and asking if she was
in any pain. She wasn't. They put an oxygen cannula under her nose. Skinner
took her hand and said, "Do you remember the question I asked you?"
The little girl nodded. "He was a tall, like you,
but not as big. Black hair and green eyes. Leather jacket, too. Said he was
gonna send us help, but he couldn't stay. Then he was gone. And a while later,
you guys came."
Skinner kept his mental tape recorder going,
memorizing each of the little girl's facial expressions. She smiled at the big
man. "Are you Walter?"
Skinner cocked his head but left his reaction for his
internal face, not his external one. "Yes, that's my name, Walter Skinner.
How did you know?"
"Alex told me before he left, 'Don't worry,
Walter will find you.' He was right."
"Why would he say that? Did he mention why he
said that?"
"Because I was crying and screaming and yelling
about my uncle. He told me to be quiet, and keep the other kids quiet. They
were crying, too. He said we should be strong and brave, and would be found in
an hour or so. He said we should concentrate on thinking warm. Thank you for finding
us."
Skinner gave her one of his rare and treasured smiles.
"Lucy, it was my job to find you. Alex helped me out, a lot. Did he say
anything else?"
"No. He just told us all to tell you the truth
when you asked us about Zeke."
Skinner sat back. Finally, they were getting to the
meat and bones of the issues. "Zeke is the man who took you? Ezekiel
Clement Taylor?"
"He said to call him Zeke. His momma called him
Clem. And we aren't his momma. Then he did a lot of cursing about her. And then
he left us. Said he needed an even dozen. He would bring us another doll.
That's weird, he called us dolls."
The ambulance pulled into the emergency drive of the
hospital. He got out and watched as the little girl was wheeled in the doors
and whisked away. Some of the children, ashen-faced and emaciated-looking, were
the first few to be abducted. It seemed they'd had no food, no water but from
the rain, or urine, and were on death's doorstep. Skinner watched Scully assist
in reviving one child as Doggett and Reyes announced to parents what was
happening. He let it all whirl past him. He needed to leave. The local area SAC
was on the scene and everyone was taking notes.
Coming up behind Doggett, he didn't even need to tap
the man on the shoulder. Doggett wheeled around, frightening Skinner and the
parents he was addressing. The men looked each other over and Doggett excused
himself from the crowd. "Sir, is there something wrong?"
"No, Agent Doggett, no, I'm fine. I...uh...think
I'm going to leave. You have everything in hand..."
"Sir, no, you can't leave," Doggett
protested. He reached out to take hold of Skinner's arm when the big man tried
to turn away. "Please, Assistant Director, you're the man who found them.
Their parents want to talk to you. You should make the statement to the press.
This was your show from the beginning. You should host it."
Skinner shook his head, but reluctantly stepped before
the group of parents and gave them as much information as he could without
having been debriefed by the Director. Skinner expected the cell phone to ring
at any moment. He was relieved when it did.
Skinner spoke quickly and bluntly to the Director, and
the man wasn't surprised by what he was told, which *did* surprise Skinner.
"Sir, I'm sorry, but you don't sound as if this is a problem for
you."
"It isn't, Walter. Why do you think I put you on
this case? To torture you? No. I know you have certain...contacts. These
contacts are retained from the tenure of Agent Mulder. And I know they are
loyal to you because you were loyal to him. Well done, Walter. Enjoy the
holidays."
The line went dead without a closing. Skinner put the
phone away and stood there a moment, thoughtfully. It seems the Director was a
smarter man than Skinner gave him credit for.
After filling out all the reports, and all the forms
for the hospital and local police and rescue departments, Skinner stopped by a
curtained area to see one of the children. The others were being monitored
until they were stable to be transferred to rooms upstairs. Only one little
girl was sitting in her bed, waiting to go home.
"Lucy? How are you feeling?" Skinner shook
hands with the girls parents and councilman uncle.
"Hi, Walter. I'm ready to go home. How are
you?" She smiled widely.
"I'm tired. I'm ready to go home, too. I just
wanted to make sure you were well. I'll be going now."
"Wait!" Skinner turned to Lucy who crooked a
finger at him. He leaned down, hoping she wouldn't embarrass him by kissing his
cheek. But she didn't. She put her hand on his shoulder and so close to his ear
that he could feel her warm, sweet breath, she whispered, "Tell Alex thank
you."
Skinner nodded then left the family to the little
girl. He strode purposefully toward a BuCar, and was thankful it had keys in
it. He would return it to the Hoover the next day with his apologies to the
agent who requisitioned it. He drove straight back to his apartment, yearning
to get out of his clothes, get out of his skin if he could. He needed to get
himself into a glass of scotch as well. Numbing was the order of business for the
night.
*-*-*
VIVA TOWER
CRYSTAL CITY, VA
Skinner walked into his apartment and immediately the
few hairs left on his head stood up. Fear, another presence in the apartment,
or just the frigid air blowing the curtains through the open terrace door, could
be anything. But Skinner knew what to do. He hung his coat in the closet as he
always did, dropped his keys and wallet on the table and walked to the small
wooden liquor cabinet. Its surface boasted his cut-crystal glass of
single-malt, 25-year-old scotch neat.
Naturally, Skinner investigated the open door. It was
exactly how he'd pictured. The dark figure stood by the very end of the
terrace, far away from where he had once been handcuffed. Even though he didn't
stay out there very long, he still didn't like the implication to Mulder that
he had spent the night out there. Krycek better enjoyed waking in the warm bed
curled around a warm body, the body that stood watching him.
"How did you get in?" Skinner asked, walking
to the railing and leaning on it.
"How I always do. Are they still alive?" He
didn't turn. Skinner could barely hear his voice over the wind.
"Yes. Why didn't you get them out of there? You
left them there almost two hours alone."
At the accusation, Krycek did turn, but if Skinner's
harsh words cut to the bone, Krycek didn't show it on his face. His flat
features gave the impression he didn't care. He did. "That's your job, boy
scout. You play by the rules, when it suits me. You keep the peace and the
laws. You should get the glory. No one should know I was there."
"Lucy knows." It wasn't meant as an
accusation, but was all the same.
Krycek smirked. "Lucy. Bright girl. But she knew
I couldn't stay. YOU knew I couldn't stay. I'm dead. You, of all people, should
know that."
Skinner downed the rest of his drink. He flirted with
the idea of tossing the glass over the railing but the street below still had
people on it. And getting hit with a glass from 17 stories up would be a
devastating injury. So he tossed the glass in the door to land on the carpet.
Skinner heard the ice tinkle out onto the beige plush nap.
"What do you know about him?" Skinner asked,
crossing his arms over the wide expanse of his chest.
Krycek let a huff of laughter fly out at that.
"Everything. Ezekiel Clement Taylor. Born March 15, 1965."
"The Ides of March."
"The very same. Born to a single mother, another
bastard out of Virginia. But he was a tortured kid. Mom used to force him to
play with his four older sisters. They dressed him up like a doll. His granddad
used to pull him out of there. He was a taxidermist, taught the kid what he
knows."
"What does this have to do with why he took those
kids?" Skinner shouted, losing what little patience he had left for the
man on his terrace. It was enough that the man solved his case for him and
broke into his house. But talking in circles was not getting him anywhere, and
he was going to get physical soon.
"He was going to let the kids die. Let them
starve and loosen their flesh. Then stuff and mount them in his house. He
wanted playmates. Dolls, Skinner. He was going to make dolls. Out of the
children."
There was silence for a moment while Skinner processed
the information. But it didn't compute to him. "Why? What could be his
purpose? To hurt his family? His sisters or mother or grandfather?"
"Close as I can figure, because he was a crazy
freak. That's why. And not the kinky freak...like me. His freakiness is evil.
Mine is just...sensual. But you already know that."
Skinner flushed at the accusation. He didn't deny it.
He knew who and what he was. But it didn't mean he liked it thrown in his face.
"Don't think I'll say 'thank you'. I won't."
Krycek walked to him, stood an inch away, close enough
to feel the heat radiating from Skinner, close enough to smell the mud on his
shoes. "I know you won't. But you'll show me."
With that, he turned abruptly and walked into the
apartment. Skinner waited a moment, sighed heavily and followed without a word.
He closed the terrace door behind him.
*-*-*
HOME OF MAGGIE SCULLY
ANNAPOLIS, MD
"I'm sorry, but I cannot wait to get out of this
damn suit and into some sweats."
The group laughed heartily. Skinner was in a very
believable Santa suit, with the jacket open, Scully wearing a matching, and
very fetching Mrs. Claus costume. Doggett and Reyes were in matching green
elves costumes, which were tailored jackets and green trousers. The hats made
all the difference. The rest of the group, the Lone Gunmen and Skinner's
personal assistant, Arlene, were in casual wear, not opting for costumes.
Skinner felt obligated to visit the kidnap victims on
Christmas day, and he not only dragged his three agents, but he also made the
three Lone Gunmen, who he felt a certain kinship to, come as well. He decided
if he would be treated like the father of this chosen family, he should act
like it. He called everyone out to haul the toys into the children's ward of
Prince William hospital where they'd taken the children after finding them.
They had the best pediatric trauma unit in the area.
It was a trying day, to say the least. All the
children in the hospital were invited to the breakfast party that Skinner had
Arlene arrange. The children that had already been released were also present.
Lucy was a little disheartened that "Alex" hadn't come to the party.
But Skinner, not enjoying lying to the child, told her that "Alex"
was somewhere else making sure other children made it home for Christmas.
Scully had heard him. She would question him later.
Maggie Scully, true to her word, had a huge Christmas
dinner waiting for everyone. They exchanged gifts during cocktails and everyone
was happy to know that they knew their friends and colleagues well enough to
get gifts that had meaning to each recipient.
As the group began to leave at the end of the night,
Scully finally cornered Skinner in the kitchen, after the two had helped with
the dishes. "Sir, can I ask you something? I know you wouldn't answer me
with everyone here."
"You may ask. I may not answer." Skinner was
short. He knew what she wanted to know.
"Walter, between you and I, why would Krycek go
out of his way for those children? And if he did, why didn't he rescue them
himself?"
Taking a deep breath, Skinner searched for the words
that Krycek had used long ago about his life. "He told me once that he
grew up a part of the regimented life in Russia as a child of the Consortium.
His parents gave him over to be trained as an agent when he was about three
years old. What he went through, I won't go into. I know you won't pity him,
since I don't either. But he had told me he couldn't let the children be hurt
the way he was."
Scully snorted in sarcasm. "Alex Krycek, lover of
children."
It was Skinner's turn at the sarcasm. "No, he
doesn't. He just doesn't like monsters."
"Then he must hate himself." Scully quickly
turned to go upstairs to her son who was beginning to cry. Skinner hung his
head. He walked to the living room and hugged Maggie, thanking her profusely
for inviting him for dinner. He slipped on his coat, stepped out of the door
and into the dark night. He looked up at the sky and located the North Star. He
smiled. "Goodnight, kids."
The End
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