Title: And Now For Something Completely Different

Author: J.D. Rush

Series: Big Things; follows "The Prodigal Son Returns"

Rating: R/ borderline NC-17 for language and m/m sexual situations

Pairing: Skinner/Mulder

Summary: Mulder makes good on his threat and confronts Skinner about his feelings.

Spoilers: Numerous, including "Avatar", "Requiem", "One Breath", "Existence", and a REAL quick reference from "Home". Beyond that, just remember that for me, Season 9 canon is non-existent. Therefore, those people that died in Seasons 1-8 have stayed dead! You'll understand as you read.

Disclaimer: CC. . .blah. 1013. .. blah, blah. FOX. . .blah, blah, blah.

Warning: Beware! There's slash in them thar hills! This story contains affection and sexual situations between two men. If this isn't your cup of tea, skip over this segment.

Special Thanks: Goes out to both Goddess Michele and Shamrock. Goddess-- for turning me on to all things Skinner and for her encouraging feedback. And Shamrock-- for not just being my beta, but also for being my friend--which is so much more valuable to me.   Also, a shout out to Kylara, because I haven't mentioned her in a while, and without her friendship (not to mention her great web maintenance skills) I would have nowhere to post these stories. You girls are truly special.

AND NOW FOR SOMETHING COMPLETELY DIFFERENT. . .

Friday, May 17, 2002

"Excuse me, Sir?"

I looked up from my quarterly financials to see my faithful secretary standing in the open doorway to my office. Since I had told her not to disturb me unless it was an emergency, I figured it was pretty important. "Yes, Kim?"

"I'm sorry to bother you, Sir, but there's this. . .gentleman. . ." I swear she faintly giggled as she said it, "who's demanding to see you."

"Tell him to come back. I'm busy right now."

"I tried telling him that, Sir, but he's very adamant," again with the giggles. I was going to have to have a talk with her about office protocol. 'No giggling in front of visitors.'

"Too bad," I muttered, going back to the pile of files on my desk. "I've got to get through these reports. Tell him to come back Monday."

"Well, I'll try, but I doubt I can sneak past security again," a new voice piped up.

That voice. No. It couldn't be. I jerked my head towards the door, the pen slipping from my numb fingers as I saw who was standing behind Kim, a huge smirk on his face--one that matched my PA's.

"Mulder." My voice came out as a whisper, a whimper. 

"Hey, Walt," he greeted jovially, with a little two finger 'royal' wave. 

"Mulder," I whispered again, still not believing my eyes.

A slow easy smile spread across his face. "At least you remember my name."

I swear I didn't know whether to hug him or punch him. "Kim. . ."

"I know, Sir. Hold your calls." Her professional tone was ruined by the slight titters. She turned on her heel and closed the door behind her, leaving us alone.

Alone. With Mulder. 

I stood up on shaky legs and started the long walk towards him. He made my journey shorter by stepping towards me, holding out his right hand. I grasped it, shook it, then pulled him into me, getting him easily into a tight headlock as I continued to hold his right hand behind his back.

It looked like Mulder. Felt like Mulder. Oh, God, it SMELLED like Mulder. But I still had to be sure.

"Jesus, Skinner, just like old times!" he growled, struggling to get free. But I was too strong for him--knew all those hours spent in the gym would come in handy. I risked releasing his right hand and anxiously pulled at the collar of his black turtleneck. He seemed to realize what I was doing and instantly went slack in my arms. I looked down at my hand, afraid of what I may find, scared to death I'd be face-to-face with one of those fucking chips. . .or something worse.

His neck was smooth. I ran my thumb over the base just to be sure. No chip, no scarring. Nothing. I released the breath I was holding, then I released Mulder.

"Shit, Skinner, you've been hanging around ME too long," he laughed nervously, fixing his collar and pulling down his sweater. 

I slumped against the wall, humiliation and relief warring within me. "I had to be sure," I muttered.

"Well, do I get the same privilege?" he challenged. Without waiting for an answer, he stepped forward. I watched in stunned fascination as he wrapped one hand around my neck. His long fingers rubbed over the back of my neck, thoroughly mapping the area, checking for any anomalies; his eyes held mine, watching, cataloging, seeing into my soul. I burned from his touch, from his stare. And then, the smirk. The infamous Mulder smirk. 

"Do I pass the audition?" I whispered, unnerved by his scrutiny, and the feel of his warm skin against mine.

"With flying colors." And with that, I found myself enfolded in a huge hug.

The punch would have to wait.

"My God, Mulder! I can't believe it's you!" I exclaimed, my words muffled by his soft hair as I crushed him to me. Too long. It had been far too long. I knew I missed him, but I don't think even *I* was aware of how much until that moment. "What are you doing here? Where have you been? When did you get back?"

"All your questions will be answered, my son," he joked, pulling out of my clutch. "But not here. Get your coat."

"What?" 

"I'm busting you out of here," he informed me cockily.

"Mulder, it's only three o'clock."

He shot me a 'Scully' eyebrow.  "Your point being?"

"I've got appointments, I've got meetings. . ."

"You've got a stick up your ass, and always have." At my shocked look, he added a cheeky, "Sir." 

Placing my hands on my hips, I just glared at him. "How long have you wanted to say that to me?"

"Since the first day I met you," he replied, "and believe me it was worth the wait." Brazenly closing the financials folder on my desk, he announced, "Come on, we've got a lot to get caught up on."

"What will I tell Kim?" I grumbled, even as I grabbed my jacket from my desk chair and slipped it on.

"I'm sure that won't be a problem," he grinned as he opened the door. And there was dear, indispensable Kim, already on the phone, canceling my appointments and rearranging my meetings. She gave us a big smile and a wave as we left.

I've really got to put that girl in for a raise.

* * * * * * * * * *

We made our way down to the parking garage--it took a lot longer than we expected. Everywhere we went we were approached by old associates of Mulder's who stopped us to shake his hand and chew the fat. It amazed me that he had been able to sneak up to my office unnoticed. Then again, it could have been my presence that was drawing attention to him now.

In any case, I was surprised by the amount of attention he received--and apparently, so was Mulder. He certainly didn't have this many friends while he worked for the Bureau--but perhaps, that was the point. The general consensus among our greeters was that Mulder had been shafted big time when Kersh terminated him. These people may have ridiculed or shunned 'Spooky' while he was employed, but they also knew he had an astounding solve rate on his cases, and his work with Behavioral Sciences was legendary. No matter their personal feelings for Mulder, it was obvious they felt someone with his track record shouldn't have been treated so unfairly.

I couldn't have agreed with them more.

It made me feel good to see Mulder finally receiving some support and respect from his colleagues. Many asked if he was back to petition for reinstatement; he just laughed off their inquiries but I secretly found myself almost hoping he'd say 'yes'. It would certainly enliven things around the place. 

Nearly a half-hour later, we finally made it to the garage.  "Where is it?" Mulder asked, looking around for my car.

"Over here," I answered, unlocking the passenger door to my ruby-red Jaguar. 

Mulder strolled over, his eyes as big as saucers. Sinking into the ivory leather seats, he practically purred, "NI-I-I-I-ICE car, Bossman. I think they pay you F.B.I. guys too well."

"Actually, it was my midlife crisis purchase," I explained with an amused chuckle. I had treated myself for my 50th birthday a few months back and traded in my Bronco for this little beauty. Figured I owed it to myself. As I slid in behind the steering wheel, I added, "It probably would've been much cheaper if I had just flown some 20 year-old intern out to the Bahamas for a week-long fling."

"Yeah, but you can only ride one of those for seven days," he deadpanned.

"You're sick, Mulder," I told him, with a roll of my eyes. "You know that, right?"

"And you missed me, didn't you, Sir?"

"Yeah, I really missed you," I confessed, my face breaking into a huge smile.

He returned my grin with one of his own. "Me too, Walter."

To my dismay, I found his smile having a strange effect on me. I felt my hands grow sweaty, and I swear a battalion of butterflies began waging WWIII inside my stomach. Most distressing, however, was the way my cock twitched and throbbed. What the hell was going on? How could just his smile throw me into such turmoil? I tore my eyes away from him and started up the car--maybe if I concentrated on driving I could block out those disturbing emotions and reactions.

* * * * * * * * * *

We ended up at Renaldo's, a great little steakhouse just outside of DC. Since it was only 4:00--still too early to eat--we sat in the bar and talked over a couple of beers. I listened with rapt fascination as he told me of his exploits since leaving town nine months earlier.

He started by explaining how he had used the money in his trust fund to stage a last ditch effort to find his sister. Even though he knew she was no longer alive, he felt he owed it to her to find her remains and finally lay her to rest. With information and contacts he had uncovered from his time with the F.B.I., and visits to all three of the Mulder family homes (which he tore through from top to bottom)--not to mention a massive dose of sheer determination--he then set off on a cross-country trip that eventually led him to Canada and parts of Central America.

He actually brought me to tears as he described one night in March, as he sat alone in yet another nondescript hotel in Idaho, when he finally threw in the towel. After a lifetime of searching, he decided he had reached the end of the line. After devoting over 20 years to the chase, he had finally been able to accept the fact that she was gone and he had truly done all he could to find her. 

He looked up at me with glistening eyes as he related how he loaded his meager belongings into his car the next morning and headed back to New England.

Upon his arrival in Massachusetts, he set about selling the family homes. When I commented that was probably impetuous of him--after all, it's not everyday you inherit a house on Martha's Vineyard --he just shrugged it off. As he explained, "I had no connections left to my family. I sometimes wonder if I ever did." Not wanting to bring up any more bad memories for him, I simply shut up, drank my beer, and let him finish his story. 

All three homes sold quickly--hardly surprising, even in the current deflated economy--and netted him a pretty penny. With the last remnants of his past put to sleep forever, he packed up some sentimental mementos he had salvaged from the houses, and returned to DC. "It was the only home I had left," he finished quietly.

My heart went out to this sensitive, brilliant young man who had lost everything he had ever held dear, who had suffered tragedies no human should ever have to deal with. He was literally an orphan now--his entire family gone. With the exception of Scully and William, he was completely alone.

And yet, in all the years I've known him, he had never looked more tranquil, more at peace with himself and his world as he did sitting across from me in that bar. I mean, behind the tears, he seemed truly happy, possibly for the first time since I had known him. Who knows, maybe it was the fact he was finally with his best friend again, and their child.

Speaking of Scully, I was just about to ask him what he thought of her marriage to Frohike when the hostess came over, inquiring if we were ready for our table. One look at my watch brought me up short--it was now nearly 6:00 P.M. <We've been talking for two hours?!> As one, Mulder and I stood up and followed her into the dining room.

* * * * * * * * *

The meal was fantastic, the company even more so. We spent some time playing catch up--he was quite interested (and impressed) with the success-rate of the X-Files department under Agent Doggett's reign. After that, we conversed on any number of topics, including sports, movies, books, and the latest sightings of Elvis. Mulder was convinced that sightings would start increasing as the 25th anniversary of The King's death rapidly approached. I just shook my head and sighed.

Goddamn, it was great to have Mulder back.

Finally, over coffee and dessert, he broached the one subject I had been leery of introducing myself. "I want to thank you, Walter, for keeping an eye on Scully and Billy for me. I knew I was leaving them in good hands."

"You're welcome, but you shouldn't have left them at all, Mulder. I know how badly you wanted to find Samantha, but you had obligations to Dana and to your son."

"Don't worry, I took good care of them financially when I got back, and I'll always be here if they need more."

"That's not what I'm talking about. What about emotionally? You had no right to leave Dana when she needed you most. A woman raising a child on her own needs all the support she can get, especially from her loved ones." 

"Having a baby was Scully's choice, Walter," he stated, calmly.

"It takes two to tango, Mulder," I pointed out. "You're just as responsible for that child as she is."

He actually laughed at me. "Uh, Walt. . .I think you're under some kind of delusion here. You DO know Scully's sterile, right?"

"Yeah? And. . .?"

"Just how do you think we conceived William?" he asked, cocking his head curiously.

"Well, you. . .that is. . ." 

"Didn't you ever stop to question it?" he pressed, with a twinkle in his eye.

"No. . .yes. . .I mean, I figured that she had somehow. . ." He had me stymied and he knew it. "Well. . .?" I snapped.

He snorted humorously at my bafflement. "Modern science, Walt. Test tube babies. The stuff of science fiction. Scully wanted a child and she didn't have much time. She asked me to be the father and after everything she went through and lost because of me, how could I deny her?" He took a sip of his coffee before adding, "I still question the wisdom of perpetuating Mulder genetic material, but she was adamant. And I'm glad we did it. I think William turned out pretty okay."

"More than okay," I smiled, seeing the boy in my mind's eye. "So you and Scully. . .there was nothing romantic going on between you two?"

"Never was, never will be." At my quizzical expression he chuckled. "Let me guess--you just lost the office pool, right? 'How long have Mulder and Scully been doing the horizontal tango'? Whaddya have us down for? Five years? Six?"

I shook my head in bemusement. "I can't believe we're having this discussion."

"You started it," he reminded me playfully.

Trying to steer the conversation back to the original topic, I commented, "Mulder, I've seen you with Billy.   You love that little boy."

"Yes, I do. And I always will. But Frohike is his dad--and he's a great dad." Mulder laughed, then added, "And he's had a lot of practice, watching out for me over the years."

"And that doesn't bother you? That Frohike is with Dana now, raising your son?"

"No. Surprised me more than anything else, I guess. I knew they were close, been friends for years. And there's nothing Frohike wouldn't do for her. But even I didn't know how close they had gotten." He paused for a moment, taking another sip of coffee. "I'm glad for her, Walter," he continued, a gentle, peaceful smile on his face. "She deserves to be happy."

"Mulder, I've got news for you--YOU deserve to be happy."

The smile got bigger. "I am. I'm back home. I'm having a great dinner with a good friend. I'm rich. I'm quite happy."

"You know what I mean. Beyond this evening."

Poking at his dessert, he popped a bite of Boston Crème Pie in his mouth.  "Well, I'm working on that."

That piqued my interest. "Really, how?"

He stalled for a moment, then let out a deep sigh. "There's no easy way to say this, Walter. . ." he began.

"Oh, no. You're really ARE going to try to get reinstated at the F.B.I. aren't you?" I gasped in mock-horror.

"Walter, you have a sense of humor!" he exclaimed in surprise. "Call Doggett and Reyes--we have an X-File on our hands."

Swallowing a mouthful of my apple crisp, I scoffed, "Bite me, Mulder. Now what's up?"

The twinkle was back in his eyes. "Interesting choice of words, Sir." 

"What does that mean?"

"Well, I've spent the last nine months trying to think of a way of saying this, and the only way I can think of is the truth."

"That's what you specialize in, right? The truth?"

"Yeah, I suppose so," he agreed with a wry little half-smile.

Taking another bite of my desert, I asked, "Okay, so what's this important truth that got your ass back to Washington?"

He paused for a moment, whether to get his nerve up or for dramatic effect, I'm still not sure, then announced, "Walter, I'm in love with you."

I know when I'm being set up for a joke, so I just smiled and inquired, "Oh, really. And how did you arrive at this conclusion?" 

"Well, I've known for a long time now."

"Uh-huh. . .and how long would that be?" I responded, still playing along.

He was silent for a moment, his eyes misting over before softly answering, "Right after Scully's abduction, or rather, in the days after she was returned to us." 

I almost choked on my coffee. "Mulder, that was. . .Christ, eight years ago."

He nodded, and replied with a sad sigh, "Yeah, I know." And that's when I realized it wasn't a joke. He was as serious as a heart attack, which was what I was in danger of having at the moment. Fox Mulder, the bane of my existence for nearly a decade, had just solemnly proclaimed his love for me. And not in that drunken, "Hey, buddy, I love ya' man" kind of way. He meant it in. . .oh Christ! I could feel my heart beating faster, and those butterflies had put down their Daisy Air-rifles and were starting to drop H-bombs in my belly. What was happening to me?  

When I didn't answer him (not that I could, considering my mouth was as dry as the Sahara Desert) he continued, "I don't know if you remember the day I tried to resign. You came to my office and told me about your out-of-body experience in Vietnam." 

"Yeah, I remember that day," I replied shakily, wondering where this was going.

"Well, that was the day everything changed. See, I had kind of had a crush on you for a while, pretty much since the day I was assigned to you."

"Really?"

He looked down at the table for a moment, blushing, "Yeah, I thought you were really sexy."

"Me?" I squeaked.

Glancing back up, he smiled tolerantly, "Yeah, you. But it was just lust. I mean, I knew nothing about you, and you certainly didn't go out of your way to open yourself up to people. . .until that day in the Basement. As you told me your story, I found myself being drawn in against my will. I was so angry with you and myself, and especially with Life for what had happened to Scully that I didn't want to hear it, but somehow, it got through to me. And I felt. . .special. . .that you would trust me with that part of your past, something you had never told anyone before."

"And how did you know that?"

"Just a feeling I got. You never even told Sharon about that day." It wasn't a question.

"No, I never did," I replied, startled at his intuition.

"Now you know why they call me Spooky." He looked down, folding his napkin and placing it on the table before continuing, "Well, that day I realized there was so much more to you than just the surly, difficult boss I had always seen and assumed you to be. There were layers to you that you kept hidden from the world and I wanted to uncover them, discover them. And over the years, as each layer was exposed, I found more reasons to love you."

I sat there stunned for a minute, trying to process all that he had revealed me. "All these years, Mulder. . .why didn't you say something?"

"It was safer not to."

"You were afraid I'd turn you in?"

He shook his head. "No, I was afraid you'd turn me down. For me, it was just better not knowing how you felt. I could be with you all day, have your friendship, and I convinced myself it was enough. After I was abducted. . ." He stopped suddenly, as if afraid to continue. Taking a long, steadying breath and rubbing a nervous hand over his chin, he tried again. "When I was on the mend in the hospital. . ." Again he stopped, giving me a shy grin. "By the way, did I ever thank you for saving me?"

"You're more than welcome," I smiled.

He smiled back. "Right. Anyway, as I was lying there recuperating, I had a lot of time to think. And one of the things that finally became clear to me is just how short our time is here, how precious it is. We take so much for granted in this life, especially when it comes to people we see everyday. We just assume they'll always be there. But in reality, you never know from day to day where you'll be, or what can happen, or if you'll ever see your loved ones again. All my life I always regretted not telling Sam that I loved her more, and I made a pledge not to ever do that again. And that's when I made the decision to tell you."

"But you didn't," I pointed out.

"Well, things were a little crazy those couple of months, if you recall, what with Scully's pregnancy and everything. Then, when William was born, I got so caught up in him and spending time with him and Scully that I started wondering if I was making the wrong choice. The more time I spent with the two of them, the more I thought that maybe I should settle down with them, have the normal family I never had before. I loved William so much, Walter, and I loved being his dad, but as much as I loved Dana, I didn't want to be a husband. In the end, I still wanted you."

He finished his coffee and placed the empty cup down before continuing, "But if I was going to do it, I was going to do it right. I was going to give myself to you completely. I wasn't going to make you try to compete with a ghost."

"That's why you went looking for your sister, " I stated as realization hit.

He nodded. "I knew you were my future, Walter, but I couldn't move forward until the door to the past was closed for good. The search for Samantha defined my life--she was my reason for living. And I knew I couldn't give myself to someone else as long as she still controlled me. My only hope for freedom was to find her."

"But you didn't," I said, clearly confused.

His eyes took on that sad, tortured look I've come to associate with him before he turned away. "No, but I did everything I could, tracked down every last lead no matter how ridiculous, turned over every possible stone. And I think if Samantha were here today, she'd tell me, 'Enough is enough, Fox.' It's taken me 30 years to get to this point in my life, Walter." 

He glanced back at me with those mesmerizing eyes and whispered, "Enough."

* * * * * * * * * *

I shouldn't have bought this car. Too damn small. He was too damn close. I could smell him. Breathe him in. He was invading my space and I couldn't escape his presence. Overwhelming. Stifling.

We hadn't said a word since leaving the restaurant, not since Mulder confessed his feelings for me. I hadn't answered him one way or the other, seemingly not able to get any words past my lips. I didn't know how I felt, or rather, I was scared at how I felt. Because if I was going to be honest with myself, I was pleased and excited by his announcement. If I could've gotten away with it, I probably would've done a happy little jig right there in the most exclusive steakhouse in the tri-state area. Fox Mulder said he loved me, that he had come back just for me. That knowledge made my heart soar.

But then I was left with the inevitable question--how did *I* feel about Mulder? I respect him, that's for sure. And admire him. And while he was a pain in the ass to work with, he was also the most talented and dedicated agent I'd ever had the pleasure to be associated with. On a more personal level, I found him intelligent, interesting, funny, and incredibly charming when he wanted to be. So many times over the years I had wished we could put aside all the conspiracies and political intrigue and just 'hang out' together. The few times we had associated outside the office had been very enjoyable. I always thought of Mulder as a friend, a good friend, even though we rarely did 'friend' things.

Beyond that, I found him to be compassionate and loyal and one of the few people--along with Sharon and Scully and my assistant, Kim Cooke--that I could trust unequivocally.

None of which really answered my question. . .how did I feel about Fox Mulder?

Stopped at one of the many red lights on the way back to the Hoover to pick up Mulder's car, he reached over to change the radio station. He was even closer to me now. It was like he was a part of me all of a sudden. He looked up at me. Deep dark hazel eyes, even darker in the darkness of the night. Unfathomable pools of liquid intensity. I gazed into them for hours, days, weeks, losing myself in them, in the miracle of his face. The shape of his cheekbones, the shadow across his nose, the wetness of those lush lips. And he was leaning forward, closer and closer. Time stood still, his scent overpowering, and I had to have him. I wanted him so badly I could taste it. 

Inches apart now, closer, closer, lips parting, almost touching. I closed my eyes in anticipation, feeling his warm breath float against my skin. Oh, God, I was going to really do it. I was going to kiss Fox Mulder. I leaned across the abyss. . .

*HONK!*

The trance was instantly broken by an impatient driver behind us. I looked up--the light was green. Another honk, and I remembered where I was, stepping on the gas and driving forward. From beside me, Mulder gave a humorless snort. "Story of my life. I'm cursed by kissus interruptus." 

I chuckled at his comment, but I sensed that something inside of me had snapped into place, and in those brief seconds, I had turned a corner in my life. Consequently, about a half-mile down the road, I surprised him by pulling over to the curb, under a burned-out street lamp. And there, illuminated only by the dashboard, I leaned over and kissed Fox Mulder for the first time. 

It was just a soft pressing of lips--he was too stunned to do more, and I was too nervous and unsure of myself. But once I did it, I knew I had done the right thing. Even as I pulled back, my lips still tingled with his energy. And the smile he gave me erased any lingering doubts. Placing his hand on my cheek, he caressed it softly as he happily sighed, "Take me home, Walter."

I didn't even think twice. Pulling away from the curb, I executed a perfect, illegal U-ey in the middle of the street, and headed off in the opposite direction from the Hoover, making the left turn that would take us to Crystal City.