Papering Over the Cracks

Papering Over the Cracks

Assistant Director Walter Skinner stared at the disconsolate figure on the other side of the desk. The face of Fox Mulder was looking back at him, but it was clear that the Agent's eyes weren't seeing anything, certainly nothing that was actually in the office.

Skinner felt helpless. His anger had worn off. So had the adrenaline. He knew what was expected of him. He just couldn't think of anything to say to Mulder that Mulder hadn't already told himself. Except that Skinner knew he'd be just be hacking away with a blunt instrument, whereas Mulder had already performed the dissection with a scalpel.

There was no way of misreading that blank expression in the Agent's eyes. Mulder had brought in the evidence, organised the trial, found himself guilty, passed judgement and was just waiting to be told when to carry out the sentence.

Skinner had never known a more gifted Agent or a more broken man. Mulder should be summarily dismissed from the Bureau for what he'd one. No argument, no right of appeal. Not that Mulder would argue or appeal of course. You only had to look at him to see that.

Agent Scully had done everything she could. Bending the evidence or slanting its presentation just enough so Mulder's black and white statement of his misconduct could be given a sort of dull grey haze.

<'Shouldn't have. Inexcusable. Gross error of judgement. I hit him. I let him go. I let him take my gun. I nearly got that girl killed. She'll never lose the nightmares. Unjustifiable. Indefensible.'>

Skinner had no doubt that Mulder would have happily handed him a letter of resignation to go with the words he'd just spoken. He was quite sure the only reason Mulder hadn't done so, was because he'd prefer the humiliation of being fired.

Skinner knew why he was having such a problem with this. Any other Agent on the opposite side of the desk, it would be easy. Except, of course, no other Agent could have run into this kind of trouble.

Dreamt of where the body was? Suckered into hitting a prisoner in full view of guards and cameras? Coolly professional enough to talk his way past a Judge? Couldn't stop himself taking the prisoner singlehanded on that body hunt? Freed the killer? And then hunted him down?

The road to hell was paved with good intentions. And that was true of Mulder's own private hell even more than most.

What if that little girl had died? What then? Then nothing, because Mulder wouldn't have lived for long enough to even talk about it. If Caitlin had died, Mulder had a bullet for Roche and another for himself. Skinner had no doubts. And Skinner would have lived with the nightmares and the guilt for the rest of his life. Even now that image on the bus was burnt into his memory as if with a branding iron.

He liked Mulder, respected him. More than he wanted to, more than it was safe to. The intellect, the driving energy, the dedication. When had it changed? When had that dedication turned into obsession, when had it spiralled so out of hand?

Skinner's thoughts became even gloomier. The obsession had always been out of hand. It was just that its first casualty had been Mulder, so no one had noticed. The first deaths had been of people who were themselves in the game. Even Scully, for all Mulder's guilt, had been a willing participant, even before her abduction.

Then came the first innocent, Melissa Scully. But by then Skinner was as trapped in the mire as Mulder and Scully. So trapped that it was almost impossible to pull away. Getting himself shot had just confirmed for Skinner what he already knew, that Mulder's path was dark and dangerous, but ultimately right.

At least it had been until now. In some macabre twist that had nothing to do with aliens or human experimentation, it had all boiled up. And nearly killed a civilian, an innocent little girl with a life to look forward to. Skinner felt the sharp spikes of guilt rip into him. He knew about Mulder's obsession and he'd let it ride because he'd been caught up in it himself. Ok, so he would never have fallen for this manifestation of it, but he'd seen enough of Mulder to know that the Agent might.

So where did that leave him? Pull the plug now, before it wasn't just a screaming, traumatised child he was looking at but a dead one? Yet still it nagged. If Mulder was worth the risk last week, what had changed?

Nothing. Skinner had always known this could happen. Maybe not up front in his conscious thoughts, but deep down. He'd always known. Now it was just open and exposed, his colleagues would want to see it stopped.

Skinner recalled that lecture he'd given Mulder on striking a prisoner. Skinner remembered that it wasn't so very long since he himself had hit Alex hit Krycek. As if that didn't count. As if, because that was a spin off from a bigger agenda it was somehow more acceptable than Mulder's behaviour on a purely personal matter.

The strange thing was, right now, Mulder was probably less of a risk than he had been a week ago. He was bitterly aware of what he'd done. Horribly attuned to how dangerous his obsessions could be, not to himself, Mulder wouldn't care about that, but to innocents. For the first time, Skinner wondered if next time Mulder bolted, he might at least have enough doubts about his judgement to delay for a few seconds to listen to him or to Scully.

If he let Mulder have the punishment the Agent was looking for, threw him out of the Bureau, it would be a death sentence. Mulder would carry the punishment to its logical conclusion for them. Maybe not instantly. Maybe not directly by his own hand. But inevitably.

Scully would never recover. The truth about those people and their experiments and their conspiracies would never be revealed. More innocents would die because Mulder and Scully weren't there to defend them. More killers would be allowed to carry on murdering for longer.

No one was irreplaceable and Mulder had stretched the limits beyond their breaking point. Not for the first time either. But this was the worst. You only had to look at Mulder to know that.

"Agent Mulder. You understand very clearly what you did. You've documented it for me with frankly horrifying accuracy, right down to quoting which Bureau rules you violated at each stage. You also know what the most appropriate disciplinary action is. Immediate dismissal."

Mulder just kept looking straight ahead as if the words were just vanishing in the ether.

Skinner played with his glasses some more. "Mulder. I cannot recommend that course of action to the Office of Professional Responsibility. I'll work with you and Agent Scully to present the case. I'm not going to let you give in."

Mulder blinked, as if performing the action for the first time in quite a while, as if so many tears had flowed that there wasn't enough salt water left to lubricate the movement. He cleared his throat. "Sir, I don't want to get you or Agent Scully.."

Skinner banged on the desk. "You don't want to get us involved? Is that what you were going to say. A bit late for that isn't it?"

Mulder's eyes blanked over again.

"Mulder. Don't make this harder than it needs to be. You can be extraordinarily stupid. Even so, you are still the first Agent I'd want on an investigation. How many killers have you brought in since you joined the Bureau? How many lives have you saved?"

Mulder bowed his head. "I nearly got her killed." His voice trailled off.

Skinner chose to ignore the morose self recriminations coming from Mulder's lips, the AD just kept on talking. "Normally an extended suspension, followed by a period on report, would be the minimum action. But I don't believe that would be appropriate. It's not unusual for an Agent to respond to stress inappropriately and with recent incidents, you were bound to hit your limit at some point. Now I could instruct you to take a leave of absence but I don't believe that would help you."

Far from helping, Skinner sensed it could be the move that would finally tear Mulder apart. A clean run to obsess over a little girl missing. Another little girl terrified. And a fabric heart that pointed at another's dead body.

Skinner started talking again. "You've got work to do. What you did was inexcusable. What could have happened, doesn't bear thinking about."

"Sir, I.." Again Mulder's words stopped before the sentence was complete.

"Agent Mulder. You will assist me and Agent Scully in the preparation of the case for the disciplinary hearing. I will be recommending that you are removed from field work for a time and that you should stay in DC until you convince me that you are able to perform your normal duties."

"Sir, I.."

"You will talk to people about what happened. You will listen to their advice. You will work only on cases that are assigned. You will not leave town."

Silence. Skinner waited for Mulder to show some comprehension of what he'd been told. Mulder, at least, looked as if he had actually heard, maybe even that he was actually thinking about the words that had been said. Skinner sensed that the Agent's eyes seemed to be returning to the office and to the present. So Skinner waited some more.

Mulder cleared his throat. "House arrest, Sir?"

Skinner felt himself let out the breath he'd been holding. Relief. So Mulder was still in there somewhere.

Skinner maintained the same tone of voice he'd used throughout the interview. Cool, considered, with no room for misunderstanding or argument. "I may let you visit Quantico if you get approval in advance."

Mulder nodded his head. "Thank you, Sir."

"Don't do this to yourself again. Don't do it to me. Don't do it to Agent Scully."

"Sir, I.." This time it was Skinner who stopped Mulder from completing the sentence.

Skinner waved his hand and spoke quietly. "Don't make a promise you can't keep. Come back tomorrow. We'll review what's needed for the disciplinary proceedings."

Mulder nodded and left.