From: Xenith Date: Mon, 8 May 2000 21:54:01 -0700 (PDT) Subject: NEW! Brothers (1 of 4) Source: direct Title: Brothers (1 of 4) Author: Xenith Disclaimer: The X-files belong to Chris Carter and 1013 Productions, not me. I'm only borrowing the characters for now. I'll put them back when I'm done. Rating: PG Category: SA, Keywords: Skinnerfic, Sk/Sc/Mulder friendship, Skinnertorture, Muldertorture Spoilers: Pusher Archive: Sure, especially Spookys! Feedback: Love it! Love it! E-mail me!! I WRITE FASTER for e-mail! E-Mail address: xenitha@yahoo.com, Discussion List: Yes!!! Yes!!! Summary: Skinner's brother dies, a victim of an apparent epidemic of suicides. Skinner asks Mulder and Scully to investigate, and faces his own feelings about those he regards as family. BROTHERS The line at the bank moved slowly, bloated by the Friday noontime rush. First one teller, then another one closed their windows, leaving only two people to service the twenty-odd customers in line. Still, the line moved, albeit slowly. A 40ish man, tall and rangy with thinning hair and glasses, began to fidget. He nervously tugged at the collar of his dress shirt and scanned the walls around him. His checkbook slipped between trembling fingers and he clumsily scooped it up again, scattering loose paper. "Shit," he muttered and began to gather them up again, helped by the mousy little woman in green standing ahead of him in line. "Thanks," he said absently as she handed him his deposit slip, his eyes tracking on the faux wood paneled walls of the room. His breath came faster and faster, the fear churning up inside his gut. He couldn't understand it, this fear. He couldn't take it. God, what was happening to him? The line moved forward and the man followed it. The fear began to die away, replaced by sadness. What was the point, after all? Why did he bother? What was any of this worth? This shitty bank line, this dumpy town...nothing had any meaning. Nothing. She didn't love him, couldn't love a loser like him. She'd never go through with the wedding, he'd already seen looks of doubt in her eyes when they discussed the plans. Nope, this marriage would just end in another messy divorce. And the job. Sure, it was great and it paid well but it would go sour, things always did. So why did he bother? He looked around the endless line in the stuffy room and the walls began to close in on him again. No. There was no need to bother any more. He knew what the most sensible decision was. He was sure now of what he ought to do. Stupid that it hadn't occurred to him before. He grinned and stuffed the checkbook into his suit pocket and stepped out of line, walking swiftly for the parking lot. Yeah, no time like the present, was there? He went out to the shiny black Jaguar that he'd so painstakingly washed and waxed last Sunday. It didn't matter, really. Who cared what kind of car he drove or how classic it might be? He carefully laid aside the seatbelts as he sat in the driver's seat. He turned the key and shifted the car into gear, accelerating it across the large parking lot. Moments before the Jag hit the power pole at seventy miles per hour the horrified thought crossed his mind, "Why am I doing this?" April 3, 2000 Hoover Building Basement "Mulder, have you seen the Higgins file?" Scully scanned the files in the file drawer, not seeing what she wanted, then grabbed a file from the back of the drawer. "Honestly, for a man with an Oxford education your ability to alphabetize is almost non-existent. You filed Higgins under 'J'...Mulder?" She turned and saw that Mulder was at his desk and on the phone. Scully put the file down when she saw the expression on his face and wandered over. She caught the tail end of the conversation. "You're sure that's what it is? Oh...that's why you want us out there? And how many deaths have there been? That many...? Okay, we'll get on the next flight out. No sir, no problem at all. We're happy to help." Mulder replaced the phone in its cradle and turned thoughtful eyes up at Scully. "That was A.D. Skinner." "Skinner? Isn't he out in California at a funeral this week?" Mulder nodded. "Yeah. His brother died unexpectedly...an apparent suicide. Skinner, now that he's there, thinks there's more to it. He wants us out there as soon as possible." "Mulder, he doesn't think that there's anything paranormal about this? Does he?" Scully's voice rose with skepticism. Mulder nodded meditatively. "That's exactly what he is thinking. Or at least he can't rule it out. He says that his brother had recently met the love of his life and was getting married next month. He'd started a new job and was happier than he'd been in years. He was not a man with reason to kill himself." Mulder fiddled with a pencil on the desk. "And there have been other deaths as well. The community where Skinner's brother lived, Roseville, has had a rash of suicides lately. Terence Skinner's death was the tenth in the last eighteen months. People are calling it an epidemic." April 4, 2000 23564 Douglas Blvd. Roseville, CA Home of Muriel Skinner-Paulson "I just don't understand it, Walt. I mean, we all have our ups and downs but Terry just never looked depressed. I don't know why he could have killed himself." Muriel Skinner-Paulson took a swig of her diet Coke and sat down on the couch next to her brother Walter. She shook her head and peered over the top of her wire-rimmed glasses at him. "He was incredibly happy to be marrying Kathy, they were going to buy a house, his job was going well. It just doesn't make sense!" Skinner nodded, his face stiff with distress. He folded his arms across his chest. "I know what you mean, but people often do unpredictable things. I...hadn't seen Terry in a few years, so I can't say that I knew much about his state of mind." "Yeah, I'll say you hadn't seen him. You cut us all off after you married Sharon. It damned near killed Mom." Muriel took off her glasses and angrily swiped at them with a Kleenex. "You weren't even going to come for the wedding. It took a funeral to pull you back out of Washington. How many times have you been to California without even calling us?" Skinner looked uncomfortable. "You know why I didn't call. After what Terry did..." "All that Terry did was disagree with your choice of a wife. That's it. After he wrote you and Sharon those letters he apologized and admitted he'd been a stupid, stuck-up idiot. He was eighteen, Walt! A stupid kid! Your dumb-ass little brother, 9 years younger than you were. It was up to you to be the mature one, but you could just never bring yourself to forgive him for it." Muriel replaced her glasses on the bridge of her nose. "You two were best friends until then. He idolized you. How do you think he felt when you, his big Marine brother, cut him off? When you cut us all off? You weren't even planning on coming to his wedding with Kathy, were you?" Skinner shifted in his seat. "Well, there were other...reasons..for me to keep my distance. You don't know what it's like where I am...the things that happen there. I thought it was...better...that I not stay too close to the family. I didn't want to draw any...adverse...attention to you. And then, after Sharon and I split..." "Yeah, you still kept your distance," Muriel sneered. "Terry died with a lot of baggage still there between you. Mom's gone now and you...you're all alone, aren't you?" Skinner gave her a solemn look. "Well, I still have a sister and her tribe of kids, don't I?" Muriel sighed and paused, then spoke softly. "Yeah. You sure can be a bastard sometimes, but you're still my brother. My only brother, now. Yeah, you still got me and your nieces and nephews, all eight of 'em. I'm just sorry they never had a chance to meet their Uncle Walt till now. They've been enjoying getting acquainted with you. But don't you cut yourself off again, huh?" She was interrupted when two small boys ran into the room. "Mom! Jimmy took my Pokemon cards and won't give 'em back!" the small tow-headed boy wailed to his mother. A second, identical boy followed in his wake. "He traded me for 'em and they're mine now! Can I help it if he dropped and broke the Gameboy right after? It wasn't my fault!" Muriel smiled indulgently at her sons. "Hang on, Walter, I gotta go mediate. Whoops, that's the door. Can you get it?" She followed her sons from the room as Skinner went to the door. He was relieved to see Agents Mulder and Scully on the porch, suitcases in hand. "Good. I'm glad to see that you two arrived so fast. Come on in. Leave the bags in the hallway, I'll have one of the boys take them up to your rooms." Skinner led them through the entrance of the old Victorian farmhouse his sister and brother-in-law had renovated and into the toy-cluttered living room. "Are you sure it's all right, our staying here?" Scully asked nervously, scanning the obvious evidence that that a large family lived here. "No, it's fine. I discussed it with Muriel and Jim. They agreed with me that you two should come out and help with this. We moved the boys into the barn and the girls are doubling up for the time being. I...want to keep this as low-profile as possible." "Understood, sir. But why do you think that this was anything more than a suicide? You said that his car checked out okay and that there were witnesses." Mulder eyed Skinner closely. A Skinner clad in khaki pants and polo shirt looked only slightly more relaxed than Skinner in a business suit and tie. Did the man never unwind? "Yeah, a whole room full of bank customers and assorted tellers watched him step out of line, get in his car and gun it full speed at a power pole. All they could say was that he seemed nervous before he did it." Skinner moved to a cardboard box sitting on the living room floor and removed first a stack of legos, then the box lid. "Muriel's kids have been using this as a table. Sorry. Anyway, local law enforcement allowed me to borrow the files on the other known suicides, as well as the file on Terry's death. They have no proof that anything other than natural depression caused the deaths, but they admit that the sheer number is very odd for a town as small as this one is." Skinner pulled ten files from the box and stacked them neatly on the floor. "I'm hoping that you can discover something that the authorities missed. Agent Scully, the M.E. is holding Terry's body at the morgue. I'd like you to do a second autopsy if you would." "Sir, are you sure...?" Scully's voice faded away at the expression on Skinner's face, made up of equal parts remorse and longing. "Yes, I'm sure. I need you to do this. The body is being held at the El Dorado County Coroner's office in Placerville," he replied quietly. Scully nodded. "I'll do that first thing tomorrow then." Muriel entered the living room, a baby nestled against her chest and nodded to her visitors. "Are you Agent Scully? And you must be Agent Mulder. Walt has told us about you two." She eyed Mulder closely as she shook his hand. "I hope he only told you the good things about us," grinned Mulder. Muriel grinned back. "Oh, he said that you were as much an overachiever as Terry ever was and to stand back when you're on a case. I can see the resemblance already." She shifted the child in her arms and gently laid him down in a playpen in the corner. Mulder could see Scully follow her movements with her eyes. Muriel saw Scully watching. "This is my youngest son, Daniel. He's just eighteen months old and a terror on two feet." Muriel softened. "Except when he sleeps." Scully sighed and watched Daniel sleep for a moment or two. "He is beautiful." Then she remembered herself. "And I'm looking forward to meeting the rest of the family," Scully added brightly. "We'd better move into the other room and let the baby sleep," Skinner commented. "Let's go into the kitchen." "You were saying that Terry was an overachiever?" Mulder prompted. Skinner pursed his lips. "Terry is..was..my baby brother. Muriel is five years younger than I am and Terry was nine years younger than I. December 10, 1961, Dad's tax deduction for the year as he called it. You want a beer?" Skinner opened the refrigerator, handing beers to a surprised Mulder and Scully. "Terry was bright, incredibly bright. Where I had to work hard in school, he barely cracked a book and got A's. I enlisted in the Marines on my eighteenth birthday and went to the University of Texas on my GI Bill. Terry got a Stanford scholarship and went on to Stanford Law." Skinner rolled the beer can between his palms. "I...uh..lost touch with Terry after Sharon and I got married. We had a disagreement and didn't talk after that, but I heard from Muriel about how successful he was. He settled in Roseville and set up a legal practice in Sacramento. He could have gone anywhere, but he chose to practice poverty law his first five years out. Gradually his practice expanded to general business, but he gave away a lot of free legal service to people who couldn't afford it. Muriel says he thought it was his way of defending the Truth." Skinner stared blankly into space. "Anyway, I always kept an eye on him but at a distance. He had no reason to kill himself. No reason at all." "So he was 9 years younger than you were? He must have been a pesky little brother," Scully commented, then took a sip of beer. Skinner grinned. "Oh, pesky doesn't begin to describe it. He was always asking uncomfortable questions, usually at the worst possible moment. And he had a talent for getting into trouble, usually defending the underdog. I remember one day he caught a neighbor kid tormenting a pigeon. He lit into that kid, even though he was outweighed by ten pounds." Skinner smiled reminiscently. "He and the pigeon made it home, battered and bloody. He nursed that thing back to health and finally turned it loose. I was the one who helped him hide the bruises and cuts from Mom and Dad. He would have been grounded if they caught him fighting." Skinner took another swig of his beer. "I was constantly defending him to Mom and Dad, getting him out of lots of well-deserved lickings." Skinner looked down into the beer can he held. "I guess you could say I had early on-the-job training for my present position." Skinner gave both agents a pointed stare. They shifted position, then Mulder asked, "If he could be that uncomfortable, did he have any enemies?" Mulder studied Skinner's stance as the other man straightened. "No. No enemies that I'm aware of." "You wouldn't know, would you Walter?" Muriel stood in the doorway. "You refused to see him from his eighteenth birthday on. How the hell would you know whether he had enemies? And what makes you think that investigating his death now will do anything more than assuage your guilt at cutting your little brother off?" Muriel stood quiet in the dead silence that fell, then said awkwardly, "Come on, I'll show you your rooms." Mulder nodded to Skinner and followed Scully upstairs to the room he'd been allotted. He grinned when he saw the NFL bedspreads covering twin beds in what was clearly a boys' room. "I see that Jimmy and Timmy are sports fans," he commented. "How about you, Scully?" "Oh, I have My Little Pony in here. I feel right at home." Scully poked her head through the Mulder's door. "What did you think of the family?" "Nice people. Muriel has saved up a few things to say to Skinner, though." Mulder tossed his suitcase on the bed. "Yeah. A really nice family...." Her voice trailed off wistfully. Mulder caught a sad look on her face. "Scully...I.." he began, but she cut in. "It's okay, Mulder. I've come to terms with it and I accept that I'll never have children. Maybe it's just as well that I'm not dating anybody. I don't have to...explain that." "I think that the right guy would understand," Mulder said softly, his hand outstretched a bit. Scully met his eyes then turned away. "Well, I'm tired and I think I'll read over the autopsy report and then catch a nap before dinner." "Scully..." "Mulder, it's okay. Really," she said and slipped through the door. At dinner, Muriel introduced Mulder and Scully to her eight children, two sets of twins: Tracy and Teresa, age 5 and Jimmy and Timmy, age 8 as well as the older children, Linda (18), Joe (16), Mark (13) and baby Daniel in his high chair. Scully watched wistfully as Muriel spooned mashed potatoes into Daniel's mouth. Muriel caught the glance and smiled at her. "Would you like to feed him?" "Oh yes, I would," Scully smiled and took the spoon. Soon she was making airplane noises as she and Daniel became spattered with potatoes, then minced carrots. When Daniel was finished and Scully sponged off, she sat down to eat her own meal. She watched in amused silence while Mulder served Tracy and Teresa mashed potatoes and fried chicken then gravely listened to them describe their day at kindergarten. By the end of the meal it was clear that both girls had fallen in love with their new houseguest. The teenagers had watched both Mulder and Scully with solemn disdain. "So, Agent Mulder, is it true that you investigate monsters at the FBI?" asked Joe with lightly disguised scorn. "Yes, we do," Mulder replied without emotion. "Both of the human and the paranormal variety.". "Like what?" Joe shoveled a forkful of potatoes into his mouth, oblivious to his mother's attempts to shush him. "Like serial killers, mutants of various sorts, anything that falls out of the FBI norm." "So Uncle Walt, have you ever seen any of these 'mutants'?" Joe didn't bother to hide the sneer in his voice. "As a matter of fact, yes I have," Skinner replied quietly. "And some of the things that Agents Mulder and Scully have investigated while I was present have scared the shit out of me." Skinner's face looked solemn as he sipped at his wine. "I've been to too many hospitals after one of Agent Mulder's cases and seen what the monsters left behind to have any doubts about the reality of the X Files. Just because you haven't seen it in your what, sixteen years? doesn't mean it doesn't or cannot exist. Or that you might not see it again..." Skinner paused, then took another long swallow of his wine. "You're thinking about Pusher, aren't you?" Mulder put his own fork down and eyed Skinner. "There are similarities. A man who could force his will on anybody he met and make you do things or see things that weren't there...." Skinner's voice roughened, then he continued. "But he's dead and so is his sister." "Do you think that somebody forced Terry to take his own life?" asked Scully. "I don't believe that he was suicidal, and neither does Muriel. It's just out of character for him. I keep wondering what could have induced him to do it? Maybe he was drugged." "Well, the autopsy report says not, but I'll run some more bloodwork when I do the second autopsy tomorrow." Scully looked thoughtful. "You think Uncle Terry was forced to kill himself? Like somebody took over his mind or something?" asked Mark. "We don't know what caused Terry's death at this time, Mark. That's what we're hoping to find out," said Scully. "But you're thinking that it might have been something like that, aren't you? Isn't that why you called Agents Mulder and Scully out, Uncle Walt?" Linda's voice was frightened. "I called Agents Mulder and Scully out here because they are the best investigators I know. And they're friends. If there's anything to be found, they'll find it. Don't worry." Skinner spoke with confidence, aware that Mulder and Scully were exchanging a glance. Yes, he thought resentfully, you're my friends dammit. You've rescued me from more than one bad situation and I trust you to help me out of one more. Muriel said. "Kids, I think you've had enough dinner. Agents Mulder and Scully have had a long flight, so don't bother them with any more questions. I'm sure they're tired." She got up and began to clear the table, while the disappointed-looking children dispersed. "I would suggest that we use using Terry's law office as a base of operations," said Skinner. "I don't want to upset the children any more than they are already. Agent Mulder, I've obtained a copy of surveillance film from the bank showing both the interior and exteriors on the day that Terry died. We also have video of one of the suicides. It seems that when Paul Watson jumped off his office building, a camera crew was present and taped it. We may be able to get some clues from that." "That sounds like a plan. And we can go over the rest of the files as well," Mulder said. Muriel began gathering up the dinner dishes and Scully got up to help her. "Oh no, that's not necessary," Muriel protested. "No, I want to be a good guest, especially after that wonderful dinner." Scully gathered a stack of plates and followed Muriel into the kitchen. "Should I rinse or stack?" Scully nodded toward the dishwasher and Muriel threw up her hands in defeat. "All right, you can stack." She gave Scully an apron and moved to the sink. "How long have you known Walter?" Muriel asked as she scrubbed. "About eight years. I was assigned to the X Files and Mulder almost eight years ago. A.D. Skinner has been my supervisor for most of that time." "Is he a good boss? I'd have thought he was too hard-headed and, well, authoritarian to be a good manager, speaking as his little sister," Muriel grinned. "Well, he can be firm but I've always found that he's very fair. I've enjoyed working with him. He's backed up Mulder and I in some pretty bad situations." More than you know, Scully added to herself silently. "Hmmmm. And how does he treat Agent Mulder?" "Well, he's a professional with both of us I suppose. Why?" Muriel looked pensive as she soaped out the dishes. "Agent Mulder...well reminds me of Terry. Not in looks, but in manner. Terry was always terribly bright. When he was a little kid he'd get some wild ideas and it was usually up to Walter to explain him to our parents. Like the time that Terry painted his bedroom black and created a starfield in glow-in-the-dark paint. He said he wanted to memorize the constellations. Walt talked Mom into leaving it as it was and not painting over it. He could see how much Terry wanted it." Muriel rinsed the dish and handed it to Scully. "Until Walt joined the Marines he was just about Terry's best friend. Terry was so smart that the other kids were afraid of him. He was always a loner and Walt seemed to understand that. When Walt was gone in the Marines, Terry kept a map on his bedroom wall covered with pins showing where Walt was stationed. He read the paper every day and followed every battle." Muriel stopped scrubbing, her hands in the dishwater. "When Walt's unit was ambushed, Terry worried for days until we could talk to him by phone." "But the brothers didn't stay close," Scully prodded gently. "No. When Walt met Sharon, Terry was jealous. And worse, Terry didn't think that Sharon was good enough for his heroic big brother. Terry was eighteen, had just gotten a full scholarship to Stanford and was arrogant as hell. Wrote two letters, one to Walt advising him to dump Sharon, then a second letter to Sharon herself. He wasn't very nice in either letter." "That must have hurt some feelings," Scully commented. "Worse than that. After the wedding Walter broke off all contact with the family. He thought that somebody, my parents or I, had put Terry up to it. Terry apologized and apologized but Walter just couldn't let it go. He moved out to Washington soon after and we never saw him. He didn't even come out for the funerals when Mom and Dad died." "That's very sad. But it sounds like there's been some reconciliation at last," Scully stacked the final plate into the dishwasher. Muriel scrubbed her hands dry with a dishtowel and turned the kitchen light off. "Yeah, I lost one brother and got the other one back. Walt's a funny guy; his emotions run deeper than it looks." Scully just nodded thoughtfully and bade her hostess good night before going upstairs. She made her way quietly up the stairs, hearing the sound of young voices in the living room below. She paused at the door of the baby's room and peeked in, watching him breathe quietly in his crib for a moment or two. She turned around and gasped in surprise when she found Mulder there. "Mulder! What are you doing?" she hissed in outrage, trying to keep her voice down. "I heard you come up the stairs and I thought you might want to talk about the case," Mulder glanced at baby Daniel and carefully pulled his door closed. "How are you doing?" Scully folded her arms protectively across her chest. "I'm fine. What is it you want to discuss?" Mulder eyed her defensive stance then began leading her up the hallway, one hand in the small of her back. "I have a theory. Something Skinner said at dinner got me thinking." "About what?" Scully paused as Mulder opened the door to his room. "Have a seat, Scully. Try the Raiders bed, I'll take the 49ers." Mulder sat down on one bed and watched as Scully gingerly took a seat on the other. "You aren't thinking we have another Pusher here, are you?" she asked. "I hope not. No, I'm wondering if this might be a similar situation. Maybe someone has the ability to project or enhance emotions in his victims. None of the victims seemed depressed before they killed themselves." "That's been troubling me too, Mulder. But still, that's common in suicide cases. Once the decision is made to kill themselves, the suicidal person clears up his personal business and seems happy, even cheerful to others." Mulder nodded. "That's because he's finally made the decision and the weight of life is off his shoulders..." Mulder got up and stretched, but not before Scully caught the look on his face. "Mulder, you haven't ever seriously considered...I mean, that time in Providence you were under the influence of those drugs Dr. Goldstein gave you...Mulder? Why won't you look at me?" Mulder sighed. "Scully, this isn't something I've ever wanted to talk about. Not now, not ever..." "Mulder? You have thought about killing yourself, haven't you? When?" She got up and went to stand next to him, her hand gently on his shoulder. "Was it after Samantha?" He shook his head, his eyes focused on his feet. "No. Much later. When you were dying and it was my fault. They'd given it to you and you knew it was because of me. I'd killed you, Scully. I was responsible for it all." Mulder looked up and met her eyes. "Life became a burden almost too great to carry." "Mulder, I never blamed you for that. It was them, those men. Never you," she said as firmly as she could, trying to make him believe her. "I knew, Scully. But I didn't do it because I couldn't stand to give you that much more pain in the time you had left. And after the moment passed I had other things to deal with." Scully nodded. "Scott Ostelhoff and the cure you found for me." She reached for his hand and took it in her own. "Mulder, promise me that if you ever think about it again...for any reason...that you'll discuss it with me first, okay?" Mulder gave her a sardonic grin. "Hey Scully, that was 3 years ago and the last time I checked, you weren't dying of cancer because of me." His expression changed. "You aren't, are you? You're last tests came out clean, didn't they?" She smiled back and nodded. "I'm healthy, Mulder. Just don't go empathizing with our victims here any more than you have to, huh?" "Don't worry about me. I have everything to live for, a basement office, a government pension (assuming they don't fire me first)." "Uh huh. Well Agent Mulder, I'm tired and it's way past my bedtime so I'll turn in and see you tomorrow." "Hey, it's only eight o'clock!" Mulder shot back through the open door as she moved down the hallway. "That's midnight D.C. time. Good night Mulder." Mulder smiled to himself. "Good night Scully," he whispered. "Sweet dreams." Title: Brothers (2 of 4 ) Author: Xenith April 5, 2000 Law Offices of Terence I. Skinner 10:00 a.m. "What does the "I" stand for?" Mulder asked, reading the name plate on the door while Skinner fumbled with the office key. "Ivan. We all have Russian middle names, since Mom's parents came from the Ukraine. My middle name is Sergei and Muriel's is Ekaterina. Here we go.." Skinner swung the door open and flicked on the light. They moved forward, past the reception area and into the office itself. Mulder set down the box of files onto the desk and turned on the green desk-lamp, then noticed that Skinner had gone still. Mulder quietly moved around the desk until he could see what Skinner was holding in his hand. A letter with Skinner's address sat in the tray marked "out". The address was hand written. "I can go get some coffee if you want to read it," Mulder said and moved to go. "No, wait. You don't need to leave. And there might be something in the letter that we need to know," Skinner opened the envelope and took the single sheet out. He was silent a moment before he suddenly took a seat in the desk chair, his face turning away. Mulder took the letter from Skinner's fingers and read it over. "Walt, You haven't returned my phone calls, so I thought I'd send you this letter. I can't tell you again how very sorry I am for the hurt I caused you all those years ago. I got the word from Muriel that you won't be at my wedding and I just want you to know that I understand. Now that I know Kathy, I know how much it hurts when somebody snubs or abuses the woman you love. Kathy's been great through all this pre-wedding stuff. She's holding up well, but I'm the nervous wreck. But I can't tell you how much I love her and how lucky I feel to be the man marrying her. All I can say is that I have missed you, big brother. I'd hoped that you'd be my best man but it's okay. There'll be a place set for you at the reception. Your face is the one thing I need to make my wedding day complete, so if you should change your mind...? your brother, Terry "He called me and left three voicemail messages," Skinner said, his eyes on the desk. "I didn't even listen to them. I erased them." "Did you hate him so much?" asked Mulder. "NO. No. Not at all. Terry was my brother. I stopped being angry with him years ago. But, Agent Mulder, have you ever thought, really thought, about the hold on us that our loved ones give bastards like the smoking man?" Skinner picked up a photo from the desk, running a finger across the glass. "Terry and I were very close when we were young. I'd have done anything to keep him safe and out of trouble. Then there was the blowup about Sharon. By the time I'd cooled off I was in Washington and I'd made the acquaintance of C.G.B. Spender and his friends. It was too late to protect Sharon from them, but I could at least try to keep the rest of my family safe. And Terry...they'd have destroyed him. My brother had a strong, almost reckless sense of justice. He never wondered what was right or wrong, he just knew it and followed his heart. If he'd known the sorts of things I was involved with..." Skinner gave a short laugh. "I can't believe he kept this old picture of the two of us, and on his desk yet." Skinner set the photo down and Mulder scooped it up. The photograph showed a young Walter Skinner in uniform next to a shy-looking boy. "I can understand why he'd keep something like this on his desk," Mulder commented quietly. Skinner fixed Mulder and the photo with a glittering stare. "Well, once I was in D.C. and realized that my relationships could be twisted and used against me, I started pulling back from Sharon because of my fear that they'd use her against me some day." Mulder pulled up the other chair and sat down. "I know how you feel. My entire family was a consortium plaything." "And you don't think that you were part of the equation? Your parents knew that your health depended on their silence." Skinner looked down at the letter, now sitting on the desk. "I chose to distance myself from my family. I had a good, believable excuse and I didn't want to draw consortium attention to them. So I stayed away. They stayed safe, and so did I." Skinner straightened in the chair. "The only time my resolve ever weakened was when a friend of mine needed a cure for her disease." "But you wouldn't let me make the deal," Mulder said softly. "No. I wouldn't allow another friend to endanger himself. I'd been dealing with the bastards for years; I could take it." "So how do you think Terry really died?" Mulder asked, watching Skinner's expression. "I don't know," Skinner said wearily, dry washing his face. "I hope I didn't push him into it. I still think it was out of character, but I'm so tired. I just don't know anymore. But in any case, we have work to do." Skinner opened the box Mulder had set down and pulled out two videotapes. "Let's have a look at the news team's footage." Skinner fed the tape into the office VCR and both agents watched the film intently. Mulder rummaged into his pocket and pulled out a handful of sunflower seeds, munching them absently. The reporters had arrived on the scene at the Granite Bay Office Complex shortly after Paul Watson had climbed to the top of the building, locking the stairwell door behind him. They saw Watson anxiously pace back and forth while police negotiators tried to talk him down. At last the camera followed Watson's headlong plummet to the asphalt parking lot. The camera then panned past the crumpled body through the crowd of milling police, office workers and bystanders. Skinner grimly froze the screen so that they could look over the crowd more closely. A sea of horrified faces surrounded Paul Watson's body. "Nobody looks happy that he died," Skinner commented. "Everyone appears to be shocked." Mulder nodded, crunching another seed. "Looks of surprise all around. Well, let's try the other tape and see if we recognize anybody." Skinner pulled the first tape out and inserted the next. This tape showed the bank exterior, then cut to the interior. They saw Terence Skinner stand in the bank line as it slowly meandered to the front. "He seems to be getting more agitated," Mulder commented. "Who wouldn't be in a line this long? Do you know how hot Roseville gets in summertime?" Skinner said drily, his eyes never leaving the screen. They watched Terence drop his wallet and bend over to retrieve it. "Wait! Freeze screen!" Mulder cried. Skinner hit the 'pause' button and both agents peered at the monitor. "There! The man directly behind Terry. You only see him because Terry is picking up his wallet. We saw him in the crowd on the Watson tape. Here..." Mulder ejected the bank tape and inserted the Watson tape, fast forwarding it to the crowd scene after the suicide. "Look, on the fringe of the crowd! That man in the brown suit." Mulder froze the image and Skinner looked at it closely. "Yes...it could be him. I'll send both tapes to the lab in San Francisco for enhancement and comparison. Until then we can get photos off the copies and see if anybody recognizes him. Maybe Muriel knows him." Skinner leaned back, looking relieved that a clue had shown up at last. Mulder watched him from the corner of his eye. He'd seen the miniscule amounts that Skinner had eaten at dinner and breakfast was no better. Terry's death had Skinner rattled. Mulder checked his watch. "Well, it's noon now and I'm hungry. Why don't we go to that corner deli and get a couple sandwiches and we can brainstorm over lunch." Skinner shook his head as he rewound the tape. "No, I want to courier these out to the San Francisco Field Office. Just pick up a sandwich for me, would you? Ham on rye if they have it." "Fine," Mulder said. "I'll bring back a couple sandwiches. Iced tea okay? All right, I'll be back shortly, sir." Mulder gave one last look over his shoulder and as the door closed saw Skinner running through the bank video again. Sandwich De-Lite Noon Mulder took a deep breath as he walked down the stairs to the parking lot. He could understand what was going through Skinner's mind right now, and empathize with it. He'd do everything he could to help Skinner find some kind of closure on this death. Good thing that the deli was only a few doors down. Mulder walked inside and got into the line. After a few minutes, several more people had entered the deli and waited as well. Mulder reached for some chips hanging from a rack and caught a glimpse of the latest arrival into the deli: a short man in a brown suit. Mulder blinked, then put the chips back onto the rack. He got out of the line and walked back to the man who had just joined it. "Yes? Can I help you?" the man asked at Mulder's expectant look. "I think we need to talk," Mulder pulled the man to the corner of the deli and opened a side door into a storage room. "What is this all about?" asked the man agitatedly. "I'm on my lunch hour and I've never met you before in my life." Mulder showed the man his FBI ID. "I'm Special Agent Fox Mulder, and I'm here investigating a series of ten apparent suicides occurring in this area over the past eighteen months. May I see your ID? Were you acquainted with either Paul Watson or Terence Skinner?" Mulder felt an unaccustomed nervousness interviewing this witness. Odd, normally this was the smooth, predictable part of the job and this man didn't look dangerous at all. He had to focus hard to pay attention to what the man was saying. "Here's my drivers' license. My name is Charles Cooper. I saw Terry Skinner kill himself. I met him once at church a long time ago. Of course, that was before my divorce and the bankruptcy, before my life went to hell. A fine man." Mulder felt a wash of sorrow. Yeah, by all accounts Terry had been a fine man. Too bad he'd died so young and so needlessly. Wait a minute. Mulder looked more closely at Cooper's mournful expression. When Cooper had been agitated, Mulder had felt nervous. Now that Cooper appeared to be feeling grief, Mulder found himself mourning a man he'd never met.....Bingo. And Cooper probably didn't even know he was doing it. "I suppose that going through the divorce and bankruptcy was pretty depressing." Mulder felt another jolt of sadness as Cooper began talking. "Well, yeah. My wife and I were married for fifteen years, and then dividing the property left me with nothing but debts. I've been feeling pretty down about it. I just realized how alone I really am. I lost my house, my family, my friends. I have nothing, now. Just debts....Hey, are you okay?" Cooper led Mulder to a chair in the corner and helped him sit down. "Yeah, I'll be okay. But Mr. Cooper, I have some startling news for you. I think you may be what is sometimes called a 'projective empath'." Mulder took a deep breath and looked up at Cooper's puzzled frown. "You seem to have the ability, not only to project the emotions you experience on others, but also to amplify them. When you feel a strong emotion like sorrow or nervousness, those around you experience them too, only with increased strength. I've been feeling every emotion you've had since we entered this room, except I think I'm getting a doubled dose." "Come on...you can't be serious. You are serious..." Cooper was silent for a moment, thinking, the reality dawning on him slowly. Cooper's eyes widened. "If what you say is true, then everything I feel I make the people around me feel. But if that's true, everybody around me would be killing themselves every time I had a suicidal thought." Mulder felt Cooper's skepticism and dismay wash through him. "I don't think it works quite that way. I believe that only some, sensitive people can pick up what you're transmitting, and probably in varying amounts. Just as people have different levels of hearing acuity, I think that people have varying levels of empathy. Those most adversely affected got the full projection." Cooper looked at Mulder with frightened eyes. "Wait a minute...I was feeling pretty bad the day that man jumped off the building, and when Terry Skinner...I killed them, didn't I?" Mulder dimly felt waves of terror, remorse and shame flood him. "No...wait...it wasn't your fault.." he gasped out. But Cooper was on the verge of hysteria. "Yes, it was my fault. My God, I've been killing people with my emotions! I've wanted to kill myself, ever since my wife left me. You said ten suicides. Is that how many people I've killed? Oh my God...oh my God...I don't deserve to live. It's my fault all those innocent people died....it's my fault...my fault..." His face creased with horror, Cooper dashed out of the room. Law Offices of Terence I. Skinner 12: 45 p.m. Skinner finished printing off the cover letter and sealed the Federal Express courier packs. He'd watched Terry die more times than he could count and it hurt more each time. His attention wavered a bit as he heard the sirens wail in the street below and come to a stop somewhere nearby. He wondered where Mulder had gotten to with the sandwiches and hoped that Mulder hadn't gotten sidetracked on some tantalizing paranormal lead. No, he didn't think that Mulder would ditch him quite that obviously. He'd seemed fairly committed to this case. Skinner shook his head and opened up one of the files. Might as well work until lunch arrived. El Dorado County Medical Examiner's Office Placerville, California 1:00 p.m. Scully walked across the parking lot toward her car. The autopsy of Terence Skinner had been uneventful. She'd covered all the same ground that the M.E. had covered and reached the same conclusions. There was no physical reason for Terry Skinner to have committed suicide. No evidence of tumor or prior head injury which could have caused erratic behavior, no obvious evidence of drug use. He'd died of his injuries after being ejected from his car on impact. She'd taken blood and tissue samples for further evaluation, but had a hunch they'd show nothing, just as the earlier tests had done. Dana Scully pulled her rental car out of the parking lot and turned onto the freeway, then picked up her cell phone to call Mulder. Damn. She'd forgotten to put it in the charger and the battery was dead. Oh well, she was heading into Roseville and she'd see them at Terry Skinner's office. An hour incommunicado wouldn't kill anybody. Law Office of Terence Skinner 1 p.m. Skinner absently reached for his cell phone when it chirped. Probably Mulder with some lame excuse for being late with the sandwiches. "What is it now, Agent Mulder? An interesting UFO?" Skinner answered the call. "Uh..excuse me but is this Assistant Director Walter Skinner?" an unfamiliar voice came over the phone. Skinner pulled himself upright. "Yes, yes this is Walter Skinner," he answered. "Sir, this is Officer Steven Pescadore of the Roseville P.D. I understand that you supervise an Agent Fox Mulder?" Skinner could feel unease building inside. "Yes, I do. Where is he? What's happened?" "Mr. Skinner, Agent Mulder has apparently barricaded himself inside a storage room at the Sandwich De-Lite delicatessen and is threatening to shoot himself. We have a crisis negotiator with him now, but he won't talk. We've cleared the building and we need somebody to come talk to him, someone familiar..." "I'm on my way," said Skinner grimly. Skinner ended the call and punched in Scully's cell phone number as he strode out the office door. No answer. He left a message on her voicemail, then called the M.E.'s office in Placerville. No luck. Scully had left just a few minutes before and her car wasn't in the parking lot. She was on the road then, and unreachable. Skinner thrust open the building door and broke into a sprint toward the cluster of police cars grouped at the end of the block. He tucked the cell phone away and focused on getting there fast. A uniform stopped him on the periphery and Skinner flashed his badge. "Officer Pescadore called me. I'm Fox Mulder's supervisor." The cop nodded. "I'll take you over. There hasn't been any progress, but no shots fired either. Come on." Skinner was led through the deli and past a dozen armed SWAT troops to a command post near the storage room door. A tall, dark haired man in a kevlar vest approached Skinner. "Hello, I'm officer Pescadore." Skinner glanced at the closed door, then met Pescadore's glance. "Walter Skinner. What's the situation?" "It looks like Agent Mulder pulled aside a fellow customer..." Pescadore glanced at his notebook. "Charles Cooper and had a brief conversation with him. Cooper left abruptly and in an agitated mood. Then when Agent Mulder didn't leave the store room, the clerk went over to find out what was wrong. Agent Mulder faced the clerk down with his service weapon, told him to get out and that Agent Mulder had every intention of killing himself. As Agent Mulder put it, 'Get the hell away from me, I'll only get your clothes dirty when I blow my brains out...' Quite the comedian, your agent Mulder," Pescadore commented. Skinner grimaced. "Yeah. A whole barrel of laughs. So the clerk called you? How did you I.D. Mulder?" "Our negotiator managed to get Mulder to identify himself and his superior but then Mulder got upset and refused to talk any more. He was pretty worried about his stray bullets hurting people and that seems to be the only thing that's kept him from firing so far. We told him that we're still clearing the building, so he can't shoot yet." "Let me talk to him," said Skinner, walking forward. "Mr. Skinner, you'll want this," Pescadore pulled a kevlar vest from a tabletop and handed it to Skinner. Skinner held it in both hands, studying it, before he let it drop. "I don't need it," he said. Skinner moved to the wooden door and shouted through it, "Agent Mulder! What's the meaning of all this?" There was silence before a muffled voice was heard. "Sir? I thought they'd call you. Go away! You can't help me. Nobody can." "Agent Mulder, I can't go away. Your safety is my responsibility. I'm going to open the door now. I want to talk with you." "Mr. Skinner, at least let us put a wire on you," hissed Pescadore. The other man just scowled at him and turned the door-knob slowly. "D..don't come in here...I'll shoot..." Mulder said frantically. "You won't shoot," said Skinner calmly. "And we need to talk." He opened the door and walked in, leaving it open behind him. Fox Mulder crouched in a corner of the room, his weapon trained on the doorway. Skinner noted that Mulder's face was pale and sweaty, his hands trembling. And he was crying. More upset by this than he wanted to admit, Skinner slowly walked forward and stretched out his hands with palms facing forward. "I'm not going to shoot you Mulder and I know you won't shoot me. What's wrong? What happened here?" Skinner focused on gentling his voice, wishing for the dozenth time that Agent Scully were here. She was the one who connected with Mulder. "Y..you didn't bring Scully, did you?" Mulder gulped and looked around the room as if Scully hid in the shadows. "No. She's on her way back from Placerville, though, and she'll be here shortly." Skinner kept walking, closing the distance to his agent. "Stop! Stop right there!" Mulder clasped the gun between two shaking hands and pointed it at Skinner's chest. "All right, Mulder. I'm stopping. But you haven't answered my question." "I...I...found our guy. Cooper...he's an empath..a...projective empath. Makes..people feel his emotions." Mulder took a breath and swallowed, letting the gun drop a bit. Skinner moved and Mulder raised the gun again. "He...Cooper...amplifies emotions...depression...anger...makes you know..know what you've done wrong. Makes you feel it. It's my fault. All my fault that Scully's childless...my fault her sister's dead...my fault my Dad's dead....Mine..." Mulder looked into Skinner's eyes and Skinner could see the tears trickling down the agent's cheeks. "Those people are dead, and Scully's children will never be...and because of me. My damned tunnel-visioned quest for the truth...I'm responsible." "Mulder, you just said it yourself, Cooper is having this effect on you. That's what killed Terry and the others," Skinner said gently and crouched down on his haunches, meeting Mulder at eye level. "This isn't real." "No. That's where you're wrong." Mulder shook his head but kept the gun where it was. "He amplifies emotions, but they're *there*, they're *my* emotions. I've always felt them, but I just ignored them, kept on going. I n-n-never stopped to think...really think about all the destruction I've caused. I've only just begun to feel the enormity of what I've done to other people. And my life---what's it worth really? I cause disaster everywhere I go, to everyone who touches my life. You have to admit that your career has stalled since you got stuck with me," Mulder gestured with the gun and gave a shaky laugh. Skinner grimaced. "Agent Mulder, my career has stalled because I won't play their game, because I won't be their tool any longer. If anything, it was your example that helped me keep my self respect." "And Scully? She had a bright future before she got saddled with me. What did she get? Cancer, childlessness, experimented on like a human lab rat! She deserves more." Mulder's hand quivered on the gun and he raised it to his ear, where it rested. "Don't you see that I have to get out of her life? If I don't, I'll destroy her...." Mulder's voice trailed off as he closed his eyes. "Wait! Don't...What about the people you leave behind?" Skinner finished gently. Mulder stifled a sob and turned bleary eyes toward Skinner. "What people? Sam's dead. Mom's dead. Dad was murdered. I have no one." "Mulder, you know that's not true. You have me. And Agent Scully, who's been through hell and back with you and for you." Skinner watched Mulder carefully, noting that Mulder's hold on the gun hadn't loosened. "You can't say you'd miss supervising a screw-up like me," Mulder said, the gun not moving. "Terry's gone now, so you're the only screw-up I have left to rescue. Mulder, I've watched you work over the past ten years and I've been impressed with your honesty and single-mindedness. You have the courage to face the kinds of demons the rest of us only have nightmares about. Your integrity gives me hope that I can stand up to the consortium and keep my peace of mind. If you kill yourself now, I will miss you as a colleague and as a friend. I just lost my brother, I...couldn't stand it if you went too. Please, Mulder....don't." Skinner's voice fell into silence as he stretched his hand out toward the other man. "Please...give me the gun, Mulder." Mulder's eyes were unfocused as he stared forward, the gun still planted against his ear. "You don't know...you can't know... I'm sorry. Tell her I'm so sorry..." "Give me the gun, Mulder," Skinner said again and watched in horror as Mulder's finger began to squeeze the trigger just as Skinner dived forward. Office of Terence Skinner 2:30 p.m. Dana Scully got out of her rented sedan, then leaned against the drivers' door as the ambulance roared past her with sirens wailing. Something happening at the end of the block. She shook her head and went into the building. To her surprise, the office was empty so she called her voicemail from the payphone. Skinner's message made her stiffen and run down the street to the delicatessen. She showed her badge to the first cop she saw. "Agent Mulder, A.D. Skinner! Where are they?" she panted. "You must be Agent Scully," the cop said sympathetically. Scully nodded and the cop went on. "Mr. Skinner said to tell you that you should meet him at Roseville Community Hospital. He's riding with Agent Mulder in the ambulance." Scully didn't stop for further explanations but dashed to her car and sped up the road. Roseville Community Hospital 3:00 p.m. Scully found Skinner in the waiting room in the E.R. He rose from his chair soberly when he saw her stride in. He caught her glance at Mulder's suit coat, which he held draped over one arm. "What happened to Mulder? What's going on?" she demanded. Skinner found himself trying to meet those blue eyes with his usual calm, but suddenly felt overwhelmed by it all. "Agent Mulder located and made contact with our suspect in these deaths....." Skinner cleared his throat and struggled for something less than the bald truth. He failed, and stumbled out with it. "Agent Mulder tried to kill himself this afternoon with his service weapon." Title: Brothers (3 of 4) Author: Xenith Skinner took off his glasses tiredly and rubbed his eyes. "I lunged at him and deflected weapon in time. The bullet went into the ceiling, but we had to wrestle Mulder to the floor and bring him to the hospital in restraints. The doctor's with him now." Scully's face took on a look of deep worry, the tiny lines Skinner had noticed on her face suddenly deepening. "Does the doctor have any idea what might have caused this?" Scully asked. Skinner shook his head. "They've taken blood for drug tests, but I'd bet that Mulder will show as clean as the victims who..died. Mulder may be the only who knows what happened. All he could tell me was that somehow Cooper, our suspect, forced his emotions on Mulder and amplified them. And Cooper is suicidal." "Oh poor Mulder," Scully murmured and sat down to wait next to Skinner. After a few moments, Skinner heard a faint whispering and glanced to his side. Scully sat with eyes closed, her lips moving slightly. Well, anything would help at this point he supposed. Twenty long minutes went by. Skinner draped Mulder's coat across the couch and saw Scully quietly pick it up and cradle it, stroking the lapels. He sighed. If ever a man was not alone in the world, it was Mulder. What a tragedy that the agent couldn't see that. Skinner bent forward and cradled his head in his hands. He didn't know how much more of this he could take. First Terry's suicide, then the letter and now this. He wondered if Terry's face had held the same empty despair he'd seen in Mulder's just before Mulder tried to pull the trigger. But it wasn't real. He reminded himself of that. These emotions were projections, forced on the victims by some weird circumstance. He hoped. What had Mulder said? He'd always had the feelings, just hadn't noticed them with this ferocity. They were amplified, augmented from outside. So Cooper's own suicidal feelings had perhaps fed into Mulder's own guilts, building and building until the man just..broke. Skinner sighed and straightened. "Agent Scully, have you ever known Agent Mulder to be suicidal?" Scully jerked and looked faintly guilty. "Actively? No sir. I've never had to prevent Agent Mulder from taking his own life." "You're dodging the point, Agent. To your knowledge, has Agent Mulder ever considered suicide?" He paused and watched her face while she thought about the question. "And I want an honest answer, Scully. You aren't going to help him by covering for him. We need to know how people become victims of this...phenomenon." Scully gave him a cowed look. "Yes sir, I recently found out that Agent Mulder was actively considering suicide at the time that I was in the final stages of cancer. But he told me that the moment passed without his taking any action." "Dana...we both know how deeply Mulder feels about things. He has a profound sense of responsibility for the various losses you've suffered since you were assigned to the X Files. Yes, yes, I know it isn't his fault. I agree with you. The trouble is that Mulder hasn't reached that conclusion yet. I think that this may be feeding into the problem." Skinner caught Scully's flash of gratitude that he hadn't scolded her for covering up Mulder's emotional difficulties. How could he scold her? Both Mulder and Scully had an honest right to their pain. Scully gently laid Mulder's coat back onto the couch. "I think that there's another factor working here as well, sir. Mulder has an almost uncanny sense of empathy for others, so much so that he had to stop profiling. That ability of his could make him all the more susceptible to an attack of this kind. That would explain why there aren't more suicide victims. Only those most vulnerable feel the full effect and are pushed into suicide to relieve their pain. Those gifted with lesser levels of sensitivity are probably merely profoundly disturbed; they don't find their way into the emergency rooms and morgues, nor do they get into any of our reports." Scully gave the coat one last pat and clasped her hands in her lap. Skinner nodded. "That might explain the speed with which it hit him. He'd left to pick up sandwiches for lunch. I got the call from the local P.D. within 45 minutes of his leaving." Skinner heard footsteps and both agents stood up at the approach of Mulder's doctor. "Are you the family? I'm Dr. Roy Schultz, Mr. Mulder's psychiatrist." Both agents quickly stood up anxiously. Skinner extended his hand. "I'm Walter Skinner, Agent Mulder's supervisor and this is his partner, Dana Scully. She's his next of kin and holds his durable power of attorney." Dr. Schultz shook hands with both of them, then gestured toward the hallway. "Would you like to come into my office? I'd like to discuss Mr...er..Agent Mulder's condition with you." After both Scully and Skinner had taken their seats, Dr. Schultz sat behind the desk. "I must say that this is rather an unusual case for me, based on Mr. Skinner's account. You believe that Agent Mulder was...um...infected with this suicidal depression?" "Yes," said Skinner. "He has showed no signs of depression throughout our trip and was entirely normal immediately before he left the office. We're in the process of investigating.." "A series of suicides. Yes, I know. I saw your brother in the E.R. the day they brought him in. I'm truly sorry, Mr. Skinner." "How is Mulder?" Scully asked. "He's conscious and still restrained. His mental state gives me cause for concern. He has refused to give us any assurances that he will not make another suicide attempt if left unrestrained and we can't sedate him or treat him until the blood tests come back. I have him under suicide watch for the time being, and would like to begin treatment with anti-depressants and therapy as soon as he stabilizes. You believe that he somehow...uh..'caught' this depression?" Scully and Skinner exchanged glances. Skinner took a breath. "Based on what Agent Mulder said to me before he made the attempt on his own life, I would judge that his illness was imposed on him from the outside. Is there any chance that if he's simply left quiet and allowed to rest, that he could recover on his own? This...doesn't have to be documented as a suicide attempt, does it?" "This is an unusual case," said Dr. Schultz. "I assume that you are concerned about Agent Mulder's career." Skinner nodded and Dr. Schultz went on. "Mr. Skinner, I can appreciate your wish to preserve Agent Mulder's job, but the fact remains that, but for your intervention, he would have blown a hole through his own skull with his service weapon. Agent Mulder is not a well man, and should receive some kind of treatment. Suicidal depression doesn't just 'go away'." "Dr. Schultz, can we see Mulder?" asked Scully. "I'm a medical doctor and I've known Mulder for years. I..need to see him." Dr. Schultz flashed Scully a sympathetic glance. "Of course. But understand that Agent Mulder has had a difficult day and he may not be open to visiting with you right now." "He'll see me," Scully said confidently. She and Skinner followed the psychiatrist down the hallway. At the doorway, the doctor paused. "I'd prefer that you see him one at a time. I don't want to overtax him." Skinner nodded and motioned Scully forward. Mulder heard the footsteps in the hallway and recognized them immediately. Scully had arrived. He quickly squelched the feeling of joy her presence gave him. No. He'd ruined her life and he was going to separate himself from her just as much as he could, try and protect her from any more damage. It was the least he could do, until he could finally elude all those damned doctors and take himself out of this sorry existence. "Hello," a soft voice interrupted his reverie. "How are ya feelin'?" He felt a small fingers wrap themselves around his pinned left hand. It was no good playing possum; she had to know he was conscious. He'd have to face her someday, anyway. He opened his eyes and registered her reaction to the despair in them. "Mulder? Say something," she prompted. "What is there to say, Scully?" His voice felt rusty, hoarse. He licked his lips. "I feel like shit." Scully drew a breath. "Do you want to tell me about it? Skinner says he had quite a fight to get your gun away from you." "Well, yeah. Skinner fights dirty." Mulder wished he could rub his jaw. Damn, that bastard could hit hard! Scully waited for him to say something more, but Mulder just couldn't oblige her. Go away, Scully, he prompted mentally. Just go away and leave me alone. I can't see you. "Mulder...? What happened?" Scully sat down next to the bed, still holding his hand. "Skinner tells me that you met our suspect and that he somehow infected you with suicidal depression." Mulder smiled sardonically, then turned his eyes to the ceiling. "That, or he opened my eyes to the reality of my life," he said briefly. Scully frowned. "Now what's that supposed to mean?" she demanded. "Just what I said, Scully. I've wrecked everything I ever touched. My family is dead; all of them. I have a career that's permanently in the toilet, live in a cheap and grubby apartment from paycheck to paycheck. And...worst of all is what I've done to you." "Mulder, look at me. Look at me!" Scully grabbed his chin and forced him to make eye contact. "You've done nothing but stick to your values and be my friend. Everything that has happened to me was done by others, not you. You caused nothing of it!" Mulder gave her a rueful smile. "I wish I could believe that, Scully. But the fact remains that because you met me your life changed. You've lost something, your trust in a benevolent universe, your right to have a normal life! Scully, by now you'd be married with kids if you hadn't met me. And don't tell me that isn't what you want and wish you could have!" Mulder could see her eyes tearing up. "Mulder, you know I still want those things. But I value other things more, like our partnership and our work together. It's been hard, but I wouldn't trade it for the alternative." "I don't believe you," Mulder said baldly and turned his face to the window. He remained silent until he heard her get up with a sigh and approach the doorway. "Mulder, you'd still do it if you had the chance wouldn't you? Even knowing that all this was forced on you from the outside, you'd still try to kill yourself?" Mulder said nothing, and after a moment or two he heard her sigh and leave the room. He wished he could have been gentler with her, could have told her something that would reassure her. But heck, that would be lying. He was going to try it again and keep trying until he got it right. It just...hurt..too much. Knowing all this, feeling all this, it hurt. Kind of like a belly wound that never healed, he thought. Funny that I never felt this way before... Scully walked slowly back to where she'd left Skinner. "Well?" Skinner stood up. Scully raised terrified eyes to his. "I am...concerned about him. He's obviously not himself." She seemed about to add more but thought better of it and shook her head, eyes fixed on the linoleum. Skinner noted her posture and turned to the doctor. "I'd like to see him, if I may." Dr. Schultz led Skinner to the door and let him in. The room seemed very dim after the bright lights of the hallway. Mulder lay quiet in the bed, eyes fixed on the window. "Scully, if you want me to say anything more, I... Oh, it's you sir." "Yes. I won't ask you how you're feeling; I think that your answer is obvious. Scully wouldn't tell me what she thought about your condition so I thought I'd see for myself." Skinner pulled up a chair and sat down. "Got yourself into another mess, didn't you?" "Yeah, so what else is new?" Mulder asked blandly. "What's new is your callous rejection of the help offered you by your friends. Or didn't you see the look on Scully's face when she left your room?" Mulder turned his head and glared at Skinner. "I don't know what you mean." "Yes, you do, you self-pitying chicken-shit excuse for an FBI agent. You know exactly what I mean." Skinner slid his chair forward. "Agent Mulder, the man I've worked with for ten years has guts. I've seen him injured, dying and despairing but never lose his hope for something better. What happened?" "I got smart," Mulder said baldly and faced the window again. Skinner didn't leave. But he didn't say anything either. "So are you gonna just sit there all night?" Mulder finally asked. "If I have to. I'm just looking for a trace of the Agent Mulder I knew; the man who'd use his Bureau credentials to charter a military flight to Antarctica to rescue his partner then haul her up out of the depths of a glacier. You were attacked and given this...this whatever it is! How can you take this lying down?" "This isn't just a little depression that I'll just snap out of, dammit!" Mulder fired back. "It hurts...it hurts...my fault...all my fault...I fight it but the emotions just won't go away.." "Your doctor says you won't give any assurances that you won't try to kill yourself again. Agent, as your supervisor I am instructing you to give Dr. Schultz all cooperation or I will personally come back and bust your jaw. And that won't kill you, but you'll be eating baby food for a while. Understand?" Mulder fought back a little smile. "I...see that I have no choice." "None. I'll be checking with Dr. Schultz on your level of compliance." Skinner got up and stalked out of the room. Once in the hallway he collapsed against the wall and pulled his glasses off, rubbing his face with his free hand. "Sir? You were in there a long time. What did you say to him?" Skinner opened his eyes to find Scully beside him. "I ordered him to cooperate with his doctor or I'd break his jaw," Skinner said blandly. "Oh," Scully said. "That might work." Skinner's cell phone chirped and he took the call. His face grew still as he listened. "We'll be right there." "What is it?" "Cooper's been spotted. He went into the Bank of America on Douglas Blvd and made a withdrawal of $25,000. It seems that the teller was so flooded with feelings of love for the man that she filled up a sack with hundreds and gave it to him, then he left. She says that she would have killed for him." "Does she still feel that way?" Scully asked as they rode the elevator to the lobby. "That's the peculiar thing. The effect only lasted about five or ten minutes after Cooper left the building then dissipated." "And Mulder has been affected for what, two hours now, with no sign of abatement?" Scully looked thoughtful. "You don't think this is permanent, do you?" Skinner asked. "I hope not," Scully answered. Scully went downstairs to get the car and Skinner followed more slowly. He couldn't shake the image of Mulder from his mind. The two men looked nothing alike, but Terry's face kept superimposing itself on Mulder's form in the bed. Skinner was having difficulty controlling his rage. Was this what had been done to Terry? What emotion could be so terrible that the only way to end it was by dying? He had honestly thought that Mulder was responding to reason, was going to give up his weapon. If Skinner had been just a hair slower....he didn't want to think about it. The danger wasn't over yet; evidently the effects were lasting ones. Mulder could face things like this without flinching. But with Mulder down for the count, that left Scully and Skinner to hunt down and deal with this...this whatever it was. He didn't like that thought. Armed terrorists, bombs, escaped serial killers, those were known dangers that he could deal with. This shapeless, unpredictable kind of danger gave Skinner the willies, and always had. It was hard enough supervising this division and reading the reports after the monsters were captured. Now he had to face one; he didn't know if he was up to it. But unless they found out how this thing did what it did, there was no telling how long it would be before Mulder succeeded in killing himself or how many more people would die. Skinner opened the parking garage door to find Agent Scully waiting by the car. "Are you all right, sir?" she asked quietly. When Skinner didn't answer, she added. "I know. I'm worried about him too." Bank of America 39587 Douglas Blvd, Roseville 4:30 p.m. Mary Beth Sapirstein was wringing her hands. "Like I told the police officer and then the detective, he just came in here and..and I was in love. You know, like love at first sight. I looked across a crowded room and he just glowed. He was the one, the man of my dreams. He came up to the front of the line and asked me if I'd do something for him, he was a little short of cash and could I loan him some." She smiled fondly, her eyes going glassy. "So I gave him everything I had in the drawer, then got some more from the safe and gave it to him in a nice paper sack. And I knew he was happy about it because he smiled at me and waved good-bye." Scully looked both irritated and perplexed. "And you'd never seen this man before today?" "Oh no, never. I'd remember a face like that." "A face like what?" Skinner asked. "Oh...normal, you know. He was so wonderfully ordinary. Brown hair, brown eyes, brown suit, medium build, medium height. Just...nice." "And if you saw him again what would your reaction be?" Scully gave the teller a piercing look. "Why I'd do just the same, of course. He loves me. I could tell." Skinner and Scully watched the paramedics escort Mary Beth to the ambulance for transport to the hospital, when he realized that Scully had been speaking for some time. "I'm sorry, Agent, what was that again?" He wiped one hand across his face. Scully eyed him worriedly. "I said that I'll arrange for a full medical workup on her, blood test, CAT scans, everything. We need to determine the duration of this effect so that we can treat those suffering from it." "If there is a treatment," Skinner commented. "So far, the only pool we have of known victims is comprised of dead people." "And Mulder," Scully added. "He's not dead." She paused and licked her lip, then went on. "You've seemed fairly...upset about all this, sir. Would you care to talk about it?" "Trying some of that psychological training on me?" Skinner smiled a little. Scully smiled back. "Who? Me? I'm a pathologist. But I know that this entire situation has been wearing on you. First your brother, and then Mulder..." "Fair enough," Skinner sighed. "Well, Terry's funeral is tomorrow and I can't pretend that I'm looking forward to it. But, as bad as the suicide was, this new scenario is worse in its way." "How so?" "What does a man own, if not his own perceptions and emotions? When that is taken from him, even his anger doesn't belong to him. It's a kind of emotional rape, to force a man to feel emotions that don't belong to him...or to bring his own emotions up from the depths before he's ready to deal with them." Skinner stared into space, his mouth twisting in a grimace. "I wonder what Terry's final thoughts were before he died, whether he was afraid or despairing or just determined." "You were with Mulder when he pulled the trigger," Scully's soft voice drifted over to him. "What did you see in his face?" Skinner turned to find Scully at his elbow, her face creased with pain. "Despair. I saw despair. And terrible shame; more than any deed he's ever done in his life could account for." Skinner moved head from side to side, trying to unkink his neck. "We have to stop this. Somehow we have to make it stop." Roseville Community Hospital 10 p.m. The bank teller's preliminary tests had come back negative, as had Mulder's. Nevertheless she was being kept under observation for the evening. On arrival at the hospital, the agents had been told that Mulder's preliminary tests showed no drugs in his system. And since Mulder had been what one nurse termed 'a pain in the ass' for most of the day, he had been sedated. He was still asleep when Skinner and Scully looked in on him. A cop from Roseville P.D. met them at the hospital with a file on Cooper with details of the investigation to date. An all points bulletin had turned up nothing so far. "It looks like he's had a traumatic life over the past eighteen months," Scully commented as she opened the file. "His wife divorced him a year ago and he filed for Chapter 7 bankruptcy shortly after. He lost his house, his accounting business and his wife got custody of the kids. It looks like she got what property was left as well." Skinner passed Scully the drivers' license photograph of Cooper. "He is certainly an ordinary looking man. Brown hair, brown eyes, medium height, weight 180 pounds." "The police found his apartment empty with no clue as to his whereabouts. It looks like he didn't plan on returning, a neighbor saw him leave with a suitcase. The neighbors describe him as a pleasant but quiet man. Nothing out of the ordinary." "Not your usual bank robber," Skinner commented. "Mulder said that Cooper was horrified when he found out about the suicides. It doesn't sound like Cooper was using his abilities voluntarily." "Until now," Scully said drily. "That teller is still in love with him at last count. Let's hope she comes to her senses soon, or Cooper may be the next sensation since Leonardo di Caprio." "Why don't you check on Mulder and I'll grab sme sandwiches from the cafeteria. It's been a long day and neither of us has had anything since lunch," Skinner got up from the couch. Scully nodded, then picked up her file and wandered over to the nurse's station, Skinner heard the voices from the stairwell as he balanced the sandwiches and cups of coffee, trying to avoid spilling. "I swear to you, Scully, I feel fine now! Just fine!" "You are not fine, Mulder. Seven hours ago you tried to kill yourself and since then have refused to promise that you wouldn't try it again. They had to drug you to keep you from pestering the nurses to let you out so you could try it again! What am I supposed to believe?" "Scully...It was that guy. He did something to my mind. Gave me the whammy!" Skinner put the food down on a side table and strode to Mulder's room. Both agents turned at Skinner's entrance, Mulder fighting the restraints and trying to sit up and Scully facing Mulder's bed in a defensive stance. "Sir, would you please take these straps off? I've been trying to explain to Scully that I feel better now. I'd like to go back to duty." Skinner eyed Mulder, who gave him a bright-eyed smile, then turned to a frowning Scully. "Agent?" "I don't like it, sir. A few hours ago he wouldn't talk to me and he was actively suicidal. Now, suddenly he feels great and wants to leave the hospital." "Do you feel that he's a danger to himself or others?" Skinner glanced from Mulder to Scully and back again. Mulder looked normal enough, but then Scully knew him best. "I don't want him to leave yet, sir. The nurses tell me that he's been despondent all afternoon and that he's been trying to persuade them to let him go. I...just don't trust it." "Agent Mulder?" Skinner looked hard at Mulder. "Sir, I was attacked this afternoon and my difficulties today are the result of that. Remember that this depression had a sudden onset, so it isn't surprising that it abated as suddenly. I need to get out of here; I can't be of any use in the investigation if I'm stuck in the hospital. Please, sir." Mulder looked at Skinner imploringly while Scully gave him a determined look. "Scully?" Skinner looked at her. "Sir, it's true that the onset was sudden and it's entirely possible that the effect would cease as suddenly. But we just don't know enough about it to judge. We need to keep Mulder under observation, just in case." Skinner sighed. Mulder was inherently better at this type of investigation than he'd ever be and it wasn't fair to leave Scully without backup. People were dying and would continue to die until they stopped this suspect. Mulder was the best chance at that. And besides, if Mulder were back on the job, he, Skinner wouldn't have to face so much of this... "All right, Agent. I'll put you back on duty, but I don't want you carrying a weapon yet. Agent Scully, you'll stick to Agent Mulder like glue. Keep an eye on him and don't hesitate to use force if necessary to restrain him." Skinner looked at Mulder's smiling face. "Or call on me and I will exercise extreme and painful force if required." Mulder's smile faded. "Sir, I really don't think this is a good idea," Scully eyed both Mulder and then Skinner and sighed. "All right, I'll talk to his doctor." But as he left the room to an unhappy Scully and chortling Mulder, Skinner couldn't squelch a deep feeling that he'd just sold Mulder out for his own convenience. Title: Brothers (4 of 4 ) Author: Xenith Scully was quiet as Skinner drove the rental car from the hospital to his sister's house. The A.D. knew that she was worried about Mulder and angry that her boss hadn't backed her in keeping Mulder in the hospital. Skinner glanced at the man seated next to him. Mulder's eyes were unreadable as he silently watched the traffic go by. Skinner felt a stab of unease and hoped he'd made the right decision. At the Paulson house all was dark; Muriel and the family were in bed. Scully excused herself to take a bath and go to bed. Skinner headed for the kitchen with Mulder following. "You want a sandwich?" Skinner asked as he opened the refrigerator door. "Yeah. The food they give you in the hospital isn't exactly gourmet. Especially when they won't give you a fork to eat it with." Mulder sat down at the kitchen table and watched as Skinner assembled two Dagwood sandwiches. "She's pissed at me, isn't she," Mulder commented as he bit into his sandwich. "Thanks," he said as Skinner handed him a beer. Skinner sat down at the table and started on his sandwich. "Yes, I'd say she's pretty upset. She thinks you should still be in the hospital. I'm not sure she's wrong." Mulder put his sandwich down and wiped his mouth with a paper napkin. "You think I'll try it again?" Skinner watched his agent closely. "I think that if you really want to be dead that nothing I, or anybody else does, will make a damn bit of difference. You don't let things stop you when your mind is made up." Mulder eyed the bread knife Skinner had left on the cutting board. "I never thanked you." "For what?" Skinner took a swig of his beer. "For pushing that gun away from my head. If not for you, I'd be on a slab with Scully autopsying me right now." Mulder gave Skinner a troubled look. "You know it isn't gone, don't you?" "Do I assume that you're still feeling the effects of that attack? Yes. I know you do. But I think you can overcome it and I need you on this investigation so that nobody else dies, the way Terry died." "It isn't as bad as it was. I think I've got it under control...." Mulder fiddled with his napkin, then met Skinner's eyes. "There's something more, I didn't want to tell Scully or she'd have me in restraints for sure. I...uh...I can sense Cooper. In my mind." Skinner's eyebrow quirked. "How? What do you sense?" "I get a little bit of his motivations, his thoughts. You said before that he'd had a bankruptcy and a divorce? I get from him a really strong need to get back what he's lost. He robbed that bank to get the money...I think he'll try for his wife next." Mulder frowned down at the table. "He isn't suicidal now, just determined." "Do you know where he is?" Skinner demanded. Mulder nodded slowly, thinking carefully. "Yes, yes I think I do." Mulder got up and reached for his coat. "I think I can point you there." Dana Scully, fresh from her bath with hair in a towel and a terrycloth bathrobe, was aghast. "It's after midnight! You're going to just go out there and pick him up? You don't even know that he's at his ex-wife's house. You have called the Roseville Police Department for backup, haven't you?" She clutched her robe to her a little more tightly. "I know he's there, Scully. We need to go get him before he does something drastic." Mulder said calmly. Scully stared at him, then at Skinner. Then she pulled Mulder's arm and drew him to one side of the living room. Skinner could see a heated argument in process, although he could only imagine the words. So that's what goes on in the basement, he thought to himself. Five bucks says he wins. Yep, here they come. "All right, if you're certain Cooper's there and if we have backup I can agree to this, sir. Mulder assures me that he's somehow developed a sensitivity to Cooper's whereabouts as a result of the attack today." She flashed Mulder a look. "I just hope that this is all of Cooper you can sense, Mulder. I don't want to be the one trying to get your weapon away from you." Mulder raised empty hands. "You won't. I'm not armed." April 6, 2000 2935 May Avenue Roseville, CA "Is he in there?" Asked Skinner. Mulder, eyes closed in concentration, nodded. "He's in there, all right. He's upset. I don't think she's responding the way he expected." Mulder opened his eyes to find Scully watching him anxiously. "We have fifty cops scattered around this house," he reminded her. "Cooper can't get away. But we'll try this the easy way, just us three in the house at first but backup is available if needed." Scully nodded. "I just wish that this didn't remind me of our showdown with Pusher." "But this time we're both going in," Mulder said reassuringly. Skinner watched Mulder quietly slip his hand into Scully's and squeeze her fingers. She smiled and nodded as they both headed for the front door. Skinner followed behind. All participants wore kevlar, but nobody had any illusions about the good it would do against Cooper's particular gifts. Skinner just hoped that Cooper still had reservations against killing. Scully tapped on the front door and a woman opened it, pulling the door as wide as its security chain. "Why yes, he is here. Please come in," she said and opened the door wide. The three agents found a very ordinary man sitting on the couch with a soda in his hand. "Wanda, who are...oh," the man said when he saw Mulder. Cooper stood up. "I'm sorry, Mr.Mulder about what happened today. I never intended it..." "I understand, Mr. Cooper. I just got your emotions second hand, that's all," said Mulder, reaching forward to shake the man's hand. "We're here to discuss your visit to the bank today...." Mulder stilled his hand in mid-shake and looked at Cooper with wondering eyes. Cooper stared back at Mulder, dismay creasing his face. "I wish you hadn't done that," Cooper said. Mulder started backing away from the man, fruitlessly reaching for the gun that he wasn't carrying. "I never meant to kill anyone, certainly not with my mind. We try to control things like that, you know," Cooper said soothingly. "Scully, get the hell out of here," Mulder said flatly. "Don't ask why, just run." "What?" Skinner drew his weapon, noting that Scully's was already out. He wasn't aware of any dangerous emotions or other influences coming from Cooper. "I might have known that you'd be investigating my series of mistakes," Cooper said softly, never losing Mulder's eyes. "Especially when I found out who that poor man in the Jaguar was." "You...aren't human, are you?" Mulder gritted out. "You've lived a human life, loved, married but you never were human." "No, but I never intended those deaths and I've learned to shield my emotions more perfectly. There won't be any more...after yours." Skinner numbly watched Mulder fall to his knees, his face wreathed in agony. A second later Scully had collapsed, still trying vainly to fire her weapon. Wanda had backed into a corner and was now unconscious. Quite a shock, Skinner realized, to find out that the man you married and divorced wasn't human. I'm the only one left standing, Skinner realized, and pointed his weapon point blank at the alien. Cooper gave Skinner's gun a dismissive look and began to walk forward. "You obviously aren't very intuitive, Mr. Skinner. Your agents are both very psychic, as is my ex-wife. Too bad I'll never get Wanda back now, but I can't chance any of this getting out." "Nobody in our media would believe any of this," Skinner faltered. Cooper laughed. "Of course not! What do you take me for? It's my own people I'm on the run from. We aren't allowed to live in frontier areas like this unless we have special permission. I'm unauthorized and have been for many years. You can't be forced to tell if you're dead, Mr. Skinner." "My agents, what did you do to them?" Skinner glanced at Mulder, still and pale. Scully was fighting for consciousness but lacked the energy to lift her weapon. "I sent them a blast of my own despair. That'll keep them immobilized until I can burn the house. Our bodies will be found later and this will be another tragic domestic dispute gone wrong." Cooper paused and turned sincere eyes to Skinner. "I really am sorry about your brother. I had no idea that my shields had broken down and that all those deaths were caused by me. Now, I'd like you to have a seat on the couch, right there." Skinner kept his gun trained on Cooper. Behind Cooper, he could see Mulder stirring and moving toward the man. "Stay where you are or I'll shoot," Skinner said. "Go ahead," Cooper said. "You can't hurt me." Mulder, panting, moved forward and pulled a metal ball-point pen from his pocket then shakily stood up. At Mulder's nod, Skinner charged Cooper, butting him in the stomach and into Mulder. The pen buried itself into the base of Cooper's skull and the man screamed, the sound turning into a high pitched whine as he collapsed backward onto Mulder. Skinner held his breath as the green blood came frothing out and pulled Mulder out from under the body by main force. Then Skinner pulled Agent Scully to the far end of the room and all three watched in awe as the body disintegrated into a slimy puddle. April 6, 2000 Prince of Peace Cemetary Roseville, California 1:13 p.m. The crowd had thinned, leaving only the family and closest friends around the grave. Muriel and Jim had long since taken the younger children back to the house, and the older ones had left as well. Scully touched Mulder's sleeve. "I think he wants to be alone. We should go. Our flight leaves in an hour." Mulder eyed Skinner's hunched back as he stood alone by the graveside. "You go ahead and warm up the car. I'll be right there." "Okay," Scully began the long walk to the parking lot, leaving the two men behind. "He was my only brother," Skinner said in a low voice. "My little brother, and I ignored him for the last years of his life." "You protected him the best way you knew how," Mulder said. "But was it necessary? Really? I assumed that Terry couldn't take the heat, that I was the strong one. I was always the tough one, the Marine." Skinner straightened up, still looking down into the grave. "I've found out in recent years that those who won't compromise their beliefs aren't weak or stupid. And they're maybe a little tougher than those of us who sit the fence, and compromise, and sell our souls a piece at a time. People like Terry deserve to be listened to and not ignored for their own safety. I hope I never fail a brother again." Skinner turned. "Your plane is going to be leaving soon. Shouldn't you be going?" Mulder nodded, saw the moisture in Skinner's eye. "Yes sir, I'll see you back in D.C. in a few days." As Mulder turned to leave he heard Skinner's quiet voice behind him: "I'm sorry, Terry. I'm so sorry..." Epilogue Hoover Building April 8, 2000 Mulder and Scully waited expectantly for Skinner to appear in his office. "I wonder how he's doing," Scully murmured to her partner. "Better, I think, since we found out the reason for the 'suicide'", said Mulder. "Even if he can't discuss it with anybody else, he has some closure on it." Scully nodded. "It's strange, though. An alien living quietly in middle America?" "An accountant, yet," Mulder grinned. "Who knew? I guess that even the aliens have their renegades." "Or just those who want to live a quiet, normal life," Scully replied. "Oh, here he is now." Skinner opened the door and glanced at both of his agents. Both looked recovered from the Roseville trip. Good. He opened up the folder sitting on his desk "Agent Mulder, you failed to explain the expenses claimed in items four through eight. Please have either a sufficient explanation or delete them from the report." "Sir," Agent Scully said, "I hope that the rest of the trip went well." Skinner paused and fought for words. He knew that Mulder and Scully were sincere in their good wishes. They were friends. Good friends. No, they were family. Friends and family of people in his position got used as hostages. Or killed. The office was bugged; had been for years. Couldn't let THEM know. "Agents, thank you for your investigative assistance on that unusual case. I appreciate your professionalism in this matter. Now, for the next expense report...." Skinner noted the glances exchanged between the two and Mulder's little smile. Good. They got the message. The meeting continued.