“And that’s the last of the paperwork on that case, sir.” Mulder presented Skinner with a bulging file of neatly presented work. “And if you wouldn’t mind just signing this 302…” He placed the fully completed request on Skinner’s desk. Skinner nodded, surveying the paperwork with barely concealed satisfaction. The change in Mulder over the past couple of months was nothing short of miraculous in his view. If he’d known what a difference corporal punishment would make to his errant young agent, he’d have applied a cane to his backside years ago. He hadn’t even had occasion to punish Mulder since that morning in Oxford, and he was secretly relieved about that.

Not that Mulder had behaved perfectly since their return. There had been a couple of outbursts in meetings, the usual squabbles with other agents, but Skinner had found that one raised eyebrow in Mulder’s direction quelled any trouble. Mulder would quite literally bite down on his lip and refrain from inflaming the situation. The one thing Mulder hadn’t done was to take off on his own, which inevitably ended up with him risking life and limb in pursuit of one of his quests. Skinner sincerely hoped that Mulder’s change of attitude was due to the new relationship the two men had forged, and the fact that Mulder now had someone to rely on, someone who would listen to him and counsel him.

Since their trip to England, Skinner had done his best to get to know the younger man better – inviting him out to meals, working out with him in the gym, teaching him how to scuba dive. Mulder had responded to this sort of treatment with an enthusiasm and shyly endearing pleasure that Skinner would never have suspected. Skinner was a loner, by inclination as well as circumstance, and he had simply never expected that a man like Mulder would take any pleasure in his company. He had been completely taken aback to find that instead of Mulder viewing their trips together as some sort of ordeal, or facing the prospect of small talk with his boss with horror, he seemed instead to look forward to them eagerly. Far from the talk being “small”, once Mulder got started he seemed able to rattle on endlessly on a myriad of topics, so that Skinner barely got a word in edgeways. The Assistant Director had always been a good listener though, and he, in turn, found himself enjoying Mulder’s company more than he would have expected.

Skinner came to the conclusion that Mulder was the sort of man who needed a steadying “mentor” influence in his life, and as the months passed, he relaxed into the role and began to actively enjoy it. A part of him was still aware of how much of a responsibility it was, but the pluses of the arrangement, seemed to more than balance out the minuses. Skinner was hopeful that it wouldn’t be necessary for either of them to have to repeat the moment back in Oxford, when he had been forced to remind Mulder who was in charge, and what sort of punishment he could expect for his misdeeds.

Skinner sat back in his chair, finished reading the 302, and signed it with a flourish, handing it back to Mulder with a smile.

“What?” Mulder stopped, wondering why Skinner was looking at him so intently.

“You.” Skinner shook his head, laughing softly. “There were times when you seemed to view a 302 as an optional extra, to be completed if you felt like it.”

“Oh,” Mulder shifted uncomfortably and gave a wry shrug. “Well, you know. Anything to make your job easier, sir.” He gave a wide, outrageously cheesy smile.

“Don’t suck up, Mulder,” Skinner chuckled. “Want to join me for a work out later?”

“I can’t.” Mulder looked uncomfortable. Skinner glanced at him in surprise. It was the first invitation that Mulder had turned down since their new working relationship had begun.

“I’m, uh, meeting an old friend.” Mulder picked up the 302, and stuffed it into his pocket hurriedly.

“An old friend?” Skinner tried to stop him, but Mulder was clearly in no mood to talk.

“Yeah. Another time.” Mulder slipped out of the door, and was gone before Skinner could ask him any more questions.

Mulder rushed home straight from work, changed quickly into his jeans and a sweater, and grabbed a thick, warm jacket, before rummaging around in his closet for a pair of binoculars. He paused only to collect the messages on his answering machine.

“Mulder – it’s Mac. Are we still on for tonight at 8? I’m so looking forward to having dinner with you and catching up on your news. I’m staying at the Plaza Hotel, as I told you last week. If you can’t make tonight, please call.”

Mulder glanced at his watch, chewing on his lip. He hesitated for a moment, then, with a guilty shake of his head, he ran out of the door, slamming it shut behind him.

Skinner didn’t get back home until 9pm, clutching take out and a bottle of wine which he intended to consume alone. He had just finished the meal, when the entryphone buzzed.

“Mr Skinner? We have a Dr Macclesfield in the lobby.” The doorman told him.

“Dr Macclesfield?” Skinner had to think about it for a moment. <Of course! Mulder’s tutor from Oxford. What the hell is he doing here?> “Send him up,” he instructed tersely, crossing his fingers and hoping this didn’t have anything to do with Mulder’s strangely evasive attitude earlier in the day. <Give him the benefit of the doubt, Walter. He hasn’t done anything to betray the trust you’ve placed in him. Not yet anyway!>

Mulder stamped his feet trying to keep warm. He still felt guilty about running out on Mac without explanation, but this was important dammit! It had been a long time since he’d had to explain himself to anyone, or justify his actions, and he didn’t want Mac cramping his style. All the same, it would have been nice to see Mac again. He blew on his cold fingers, wishing he’d brought some gloves. He hoped Mac wouldn’t be angry. <It’s not Mac you have to worry about now, Mulder. It’s Skinner! What was it Mac said? ‘Handing over the baton’? What am I, some kind of relay race now? A parcel to just be handed over whenever. Fuck it. Fuck them!>

<You don’t mean that. You’re just feeling guilty for ditching Mac so you’re getting angry with him instead of yourself.>

<What the fuck do you know? You’re supposed to be on my side!>

<I am on your side. I know you too well>

<Of course you do. You’re me.>

<Have you ever thought there might be something a bit schizophrenic about holding conversations with yourself like this?>

<Oh shut up.> Mulder jogged up and down on the spot for a while, trying to both warm himself up and stifle the incessant internal monologue.

“My dear Mr. Skinner.” Dr Macclesfield swept into his apartment and gave the Assistant Director a firm shake of the hand. “I’m so sorry to disturb you at this late hour.”

“No, it’s fine.” Skinner offered his visitor a glass of wine, which was gratefully accepted, and gestured him to the couch. “How can I help you, Dr Macclesfield?”

“Oh please call me Mac.” The professor gave a smile, and ran a weary hand through his thick white hair.

“Mac?” Skinner couldn’t help raising an eyebrow.

“Mulder’s not the only one who hates his first name, I’m afraid.” Mac shook his head ruefully. “Please don’t tell anyone, Mr. Skinner, but my first name is Cyril. It’s not a name I’m particularly fond of, so everybody calls me Mac.”

“I see.” Skinner smiled. “I’m not exactly fond of Walter, you know, but please feel free to call me by my first name.”

“Thank you, Walter,” Mac nodded, giving Skinner a wide smile. “Hating our names was one way of finding a common bond with Mulder back in the bad old days when he was a new and destructive force on our happy little university soil.”

“He must have been a handful,” Skinner commiserated, sipping his wine.

“You have no idea.” Mac gave a heartfelt sigh. “I promised to call him Mulder, if he’d call me Mac. That impressed him – it made me seem less authoritarian to him. He’s not very fond of authority.”

“Tell me about it!” Skinner shook his head.

“He was worse back then!” Mac laughed out loud. “I think I managed to get some sense into his head. Trust me, you have the much improved and polished version of our dear Mulder, compared to the 17 year old wild child that I had to tame.”

“I can imagine.” Skinner sat back and gazed at his guest, intrigued.

“You’re wondering why I’m here?” Mac’s green eyes met Skinner’s dark ones.

“Well, I’m assuming that you’ve come straight from your meeting with Mulder…” Skinner began, but he trailed off as he caught the flash of concern in Mac’s eyes.

“As a matter of fact, no. I was hoping to meet with him this evening – I’m only in DC for a couple of days attending a seminar. We made arrangements to meet up, but I’ll admit they were fairly vague. When I went to his apartment he wasn’t there. I assumed that he got called away. That’s when I thought to try you – just to make sure that nothing was amiss.”

“I invited Mulder to a work out, but he told me he had to meet an old friend,” Skinner sighed, putting down his wine glass and going over to his briefcase to inspect the copy of the 302 that was in there. “There’s nothing urgent here.” Skinner shook his head. “Just a request to investigate a…uh…unidentified reptilian life form recently reported in the Potomac.”

“Ah, some sort of dinosaur I expect,” Mac nodded sagely. “We have one of those in Loch Ness in Scotland. There are new sightings every couple of years, just when the local tourism looks like flagging,” he remarked cynically. Skinner gave a low, rumbling laugh.

“A man after my own heart,” he chuckled. “Still, it’s Mulder’s passion, and he has been proved right on too many occasions for me to dismiss his work off-handedly.”

“Good.” Mac nodded. “Mulder is quite the most brilliant student I ever had. Just because his thinking isn’t mainstream, doesn’t mean it’s invalid. I’m glad you take a similar view, Walter.”

“I do. The question is – where is Mulder now?” Skinner mused.

“Well, I’m not too worried. As I said, our arrangement was vague.” Mac waved a hand in the air. “I’m sure he’s busy out looking for monsters.”

“Hmm.” Skinner gazed at the 302 for a moment.

“You think something is wrong?” Mac asked.

“Well, he did say he was meeting an old friend, and I assume he meant you. From the way he talks about you, I’d be surprised if he’d pass up on an opportunity to see you. On the other hand…”

“Yes?”

“It’s just that he’s been so well behaved since…” Skinner flushed slightly. “I mean, after what happened in Oxford, I’d hate to think that he lied to me deliberately.”

Mac leaned back with a sigh.

“I told you, Walter, Mulder is a special case. The normal rules don’t apply to him. I’ve lost count of the number of times he charmed me into thinking he was the most good natured, well behaved boy in the whole world, immediately prior to causing the most dreadful incident.. And it wasn’t deliberate manipulation – I think he was genuinely eager to please. Our good opinion matters to him a lot. However, the devil lurking in Mulder’s breast can never be entirely stilled, I’m afraid, Walter. I learned that a long time ago.”

Mulder turned his jog into a little dance, then he began to hum, but it was no use. That voice just kept goading him.

<Remember how nice Mac was to you when you first met him? How he took you under his wing, took care of you. And Skinner’s been nice to you as well recently hasn’t he? What are you doing here, Mulder? You shouldn’t be lying to them.>

<I’m not listening!> Mulder put his hands theatrically over his ears but all the same, his mind wandered back in time.

“I’m intrigued.” Skinner returned to the couch and offered his guest another glass of wine which was gratefully accepted. “As to how the hell you decided on your, uh, unorthodox approach to keeping Mulder in line in the first place.”

Mac’s face creased into a smile.

“Well, it’s not a story I’d share with anyone but you, Walter. But I think it’s only fair that you should have the benefit of my experience. You’re going to need all the help you can get dealing with this troublesome lad.”

Taking a sip of wine, Mac cleared his throat and launched into his tale.

Dr Macclesfield followed the policeman along a corridor and waited while a cell door was opened. He peered into the cell, and saw three men sitting there: one sleeping, one clearly the worse for drink, and a third who was crouched against the wall, clutching an academic gown to his chest. He was a skinny boy, about 17 years old, with a long floppy mass of hair, and scared, defiant, hazel eyes. His clothing was torn and stained, and his knuckles were bruised.

“I’m looking for a…Fox Mulder,” Mac said.

“That’s me.” The boy got up, trying to keep the remnants of his torn shirt together.

“Ah.” Mac looked him up and down for a few seconds, taking in the boy’s tired, pale face, and the sadness and vulnerability behind the defiant facade.

“Well are you just gonna look at me or are you gonna get me out of here?” The youth fumed in an American accent. “Youare the tutor guy aren’t you? Dr Macclesfield?”

“Yes, my dear boy. I am.” Dr Macclesfield’s eyes twinkled with amusement which just seemed to make Mulder even more angry.

“Well then. Can I go?” The boy pushed his way past the policeman and the tutor, and out into the corridor.

“It is more usual for tutors to be introduced to their new charges during an informal drinks session in the first week of term. I do admire your refreshing approach, Fox,” Dr Macclesfield murmured, as they exited from the police station after the paperwork was completed.

“Well, I didn’t know anyone else…” Mulder muttered. “They said that because of my age, someone had to pick me up. I only got here on Saturday. I didn’t know who else to ask. I had your name written down as my tutor so I told them to contact you. And don’t call me Fox.”

“Why? Isn’t it your name?” Dr Macclesfield waved his hand at the Volkswagen Beetle painted in psychodelic patterns parked nearby. Mulder grimaced.

“Yeah, it’s my name, but I don’t want anyone using it,” he grunted. “This is your car?”

“Yes, my dear…uh, hmm, what shall we call you then? Does the dear boy have a favorite nickname perhaps? Or an alternative moniker he wishes to use? A nom de plume maybe…?”

“Mulder’s fine. The car isn’t. The sixties are over you know.” Mulder gave Dr Macclesfield a look of barely disguised disgust, and folded his long legs into the meager passenger space in the front of the car.

“Hmm. Charmed to meet you too, my surly young friend.” Mac gave a chuckle as he got in beside his errant charge.

Mulder got out quickly as soon as they drew up at the college. He slammed the door, kicked the car wheel unnecessarily, and slouched off in the direction of his rooms.

“Mulder.” Dr Macclesfield stood there watching him, that same amused twinkle still flashing in his eyes.

“Yeah?” Mulder sunk his hands deep into his pockets and carried on walking.

“I rather think that we have something to discuss, don’t you?”

“What?” Mulder turned around and glared at his tutor from under his floppy hair.

“The small matter of what happened last night, and how it came to lead to your state of attire this morning?” Mac glanced pointedly at Mulder’s torn and dirty clothing.

“Oh.” Mulder stood there for a moment, weighing it up. He didn’t know much about the rules that governed this weird place. Last night had shown him that all too well. He wasn’t sure how far he could push this guy and get away with it. He didn’t look too frightening though, with that stupid painted car with all its yellow and pink squiggles, and that idiotic smile on his face. Mulder decided to risk it. “I don’t wanna talk about it,” he said sulkily, turning on his heel and walking off. He was surprised to find a large, immaculately manicured hand descending on his shoulder a few seconds later.

“Well, you see, the problem is that I do.” The professor said, drawing him off in a different direction. “And I think we’ll do what I want in the circumstances.”

Mulder struggled momentarily, then gave in when he worked out the math of the extra 40 odd pounds that his tutor had on him, to say nothing of the air of quiet authority that exuded from him.

Dr Macclesfield opened the door to his study and ushered Mulder in.

“Sit down, Mulder. I’ll make us some breakfast shall I? Something tells me that you never had dinner last night.”

“Have you been spying on me? What did they tell you about me?” Mulder rounded on him furiously.

“Nothing.” Mac raised an eyebrow at Mulder’s tone. “But your stomach rumbled during the entire car journey back here, so you’re clearly hungry. And believe me, I haven’t worked with young people for this long without picking up a few clues as to their behavior along the way. I’ve never known a young man of your age who wasn’t hungry to be honest. Now, I can manage toast and crumpets. Does that sound about right?”

“Whatever.” Mulder threw himself down on a badly upholstered armchair as his tutor put the kettle on and busied himself making breakfast. He brought over a plateful of toast, and various pots of items that called themselves “marmite” and “jam”. Mulder eyed them suspiciously, and opted for honey instead. He would have much preferred not to eat, but the professor was right, he was ravenous, and he couldn’t stop himself demolishing the entire plateful of food.

“Now…” Mac leaned back in his chair, cradling a large mug of tea, into which he had spooned several heaped measures of sugar. “Perhaps you’d like to tell me what happened last night?”

“No.” Mulder put the empty plate down on the floor and stared into the fire grate with glazed eyes.

“Well, I have all day.” Mac sipped his tea quietly, flicking through an academic journal. “Whenever you’re ready,” he said, finishing his tea, and getting up to sit at his desk. He put on his spectacles, and busied himself reading through his mail.

Mulder sat there for half an hour, silently arguing with himself, and then got to his feet. Mac glanced up at him.

“Can I go now?” Mulder spat.

“Of course,” Mac said smoothly. Mulder hurried over to the door.

“Just as soon as you tell me what happened last night,” Mac added. Mulder stopped, hopping nervously from one foot to the other.

“I don’t want to,” he growled.

“Well, I can wait. Why don’t you sit over there in the window seat, and let me know when you’re ready, hmm? I have work to do in the meantime.”

Mac got up and led Mulder over to the window seat, then he returned to his desk. Mulder sat down glumly, mentally judging the distance between the window and the door, wondering if he could make it before the professor got there. He decided against it. There was something scary about this guy, with his polite manners and stupid car. Mulder drew a face on the condensation on the window pane.

“How long before he gave in?” Skinner asked, grinning at his guest and getting up to open another bottle of wine.

“Four hours I believe.” Mac grinned back. “I’m glad he did. I was getting rather desperate to use the lavatory.”

“I bet he was too!” Skinner chuckled. “I bet that’s why he gave in.”

“Probably,” Mac nodded. “His stubbornness is legendary of course. I’m just lucky that we’re not both still sitting there.”

“I had to dine in the formal hall, or whatever the hell they call it.” Mulder said suddenly and unexpectedly, blowing on the window to create more condensation, and then drawing another face on it. “And you have to wear that stupid gown when you dine in there.” He pointed at the academic gown lying on the floor of Mac’s office, where he’d thrown it. “I didn’t know that, so they turned me away. I went back for it, but I was so angry. When I got in, I took it off. Someone made a point about me not wearing it, so I…I guess I lost it,” he admitted lamely, finally looking at the professor for the first time.

Mac stopped what he was doing and turned his full attention to the young man in his study.

“You got into a fight over a gown?” Mac asked.

“Yeah.” Mulder flushed. “Well, I lost the fight. Then I got thrown out into the street. I tried to get back in, but someone called the police and I ended up in custody.”

“And all this without even being drunk?” Mac whistled. “How extraordinary. I’m impressed.”

“I don’t know the rules here,” Mulder said sadly. “I don’t understand things. Why do we have to wear these stupid gowns? Why do things have stupid names? I don’t know where things are. People laugh at me…”

“Mulder, every establishment has its own little ways of doing things. Humor us, please, and you’ll find that we’re more than happy to humor you and your little foibles. Now, next time you feel one of these murderous impulses coming upon you, or everything seems too much for you, why don’t you just turn around and bring yourself up here. I won’t ask any questions if you don’t want me to. You can just sit in here until you calm down. Deal?”

Mulder stared at the professor for a moment, chewing on his lip.

“I won’t get into any trouble?” He asked after thinking about it for a few moments.

“Not unless you cause any.” Mac flashed a smile at him.

“What about last night? Am I in trouble for that?” Mulder asked anxiously.

“Of course not. You were confused and unhappy. I wouldn’t care to see a repeat of last night, though, Mulder. Especially as you now have a friend who can give you all the help, advice and support that you need.”

“I do?” Mulder looked up. “Who?” he asked.

Mac shook his head in amazement. “Me, Mulder. Me,” he said.

“Oh, I thought you meant someone my own age. I mean, you’re a tutor. You’re kind of in charge and stuff, Dr Macclesfield, and…”

“And you think that means we can’t be friends? Nonsense,” Mac said briskly. “Now it’s lunchtime, so I suggest that I show you one of my favorite restaurants. And please, let’s not be formal. You can call me Mac.”

“So that was your first meeting? Mine was just as auspicious.” Skinner recounted the story of how he had called Mulder into his office and forbade him to continue with an investigation.

“And did he follow your orders?” Mac asked.

“Did he hell!” Skinner snorted into his drink.

“Oh dear,” Mac laughed.

“What made you decide to resort to, uh, extreme measures?” Skinner asked. Mac’s smile faded.

“It wasn’t a decision I made lightly,” he said with a sigh. “I’d worked in a quite famous boy’s public school for several years, and the cane was commonplace there. Mulder was no older than some of the boys I’d punished in this way as a headmaster. However, he was a university student, and, contrary to myth, the English don’t usually use corporal punishment on their undergraduates. Mulder was a special case though. I risked my job to keep him at Oxford. I could see that he was brilliant, and the same rules don’t apply to geniuses as apply to other people, as I’m sure you’ve had cause to learn, Walter.”

“Yeah. Oh yeah.” Skinner nodded.

“They have to be treated differently – and I’d seen boys like Mulder respond well to this sort of discipline before. Not just handed out by someone uncaring and unfeeling, mind. Only as part of an ongoing, supportive and encouraging relationship. Mulder and I already had that. Did he tell you about the occasion when he broke into the library?”

“He mentioned it, yes,” Skinner nodded.

“He had some bee in his bonnet about the fact that he wasn’t allowed access to some of the documents filed in there. Maybe he had a point, but his way of making it was unacceptable. He got caught, of course,” Mac sighed. “I spent half the day with the local police, and the other half with the Vice Chancellor. I fought tooth and nail to keep Mulder in the university. He was absolutely terrified of being sent home.”

“Things weren’t too good at home.” Skinner commented.

“I’d gathered that,” Mac nodded. “But by the time I got back to my study I was at the end of my tether. I knew the only way to save Mulder from himself, and to make sure he got through his university days and graduated with a degree, was to make his punishment a hard and effective one. I had to do something extreme to get into that wayward mind of his and make an impression. That’s when I decided on the cane. Of course, if he’d made a complaint, I could have been chucked out myself, but I thought he was worth taking a risk on. I had no idea that the dear boy would still be in need of discipline 20 odd years later!”

Mac got back to his study to find Mulder sitting there, in his usual window seat, a look of abject fear warring with defiance on his face.

“Mac, I’m sorry. I screwed up.” Mulder muttered, looking up anxiously at his tutor through his hair. “What’s gonna happen? Are they gonna throw me out? Mac, I don’t want to go home.” He gave his tutor a pleading look. “What did they say? What are they going to do? Are they going to charge me?”

“No, Mulder. Not this time.” Mac sighed, sitting down in the chair behind his desk. “Mulder, come and stand here.” He rapped out firmly, pointing to the front of his desk. Mulder looked up with a start at his tutor’s tone, and hopped over to the desk, standing nervously in front of it.

“How old are you now, Mulder?” Mac asked.

“Uh, 18.” Mulder shrugged. “Why?”

“I was just wondering when you were going to grow up,” Mac said sternly.

“I don’t know,” Mulder muttered sullenly.

“I was also wondering whether you were too old to be spanked,” Mac said, watching Mulder’s reaction. His head jerked up.

“Spanked, Mac? You’re not serious, are you?” His voice wavered pathetically.

“Yes, I am. I just went out of my way to save your hide today, Mulder, and I promised both the police and the Vice Chancellor that you’d be severely punished for last night’s escapade. What I have in mind is extremely painful, but I’m of the opinion that you deserve it.”

“What you gonna do?” Mulder chewed on his lip.

“Cane you.” Mac fumbled around in his umbrella stand for a moment, finally finding an old bamboo cane. “It’s a first offense, so I’ll be more lenient than I would normally. How does ten sound?” Mac asked.

“Ten…what?” Mulder’s eyes were transfixed by the cane.

“Strokes.” Mac swung it through the air a couple of times.

“Uh…where?” Mulder asked.

“Traditionally, I can only think of one place.” Mac said. “Trousers down, Mulder, and bend over my desk.”

Mulder flushed a deep red.

“No, you’re not going to…I’m too old. They should have let me read the stuff I wanted to! I didn’t do anything wrong breaking into the library. I didn’t damage anything. I…” He trailed off, looking at Mac’s implacable face.

“I won’t get sent home?” he asked.

“No.” Mac shook his head. “But if you walk out of here now I won’t be able to protect you again, Mulder. If you deliberately flout the rules, you must expect consequences. You can’t imagine that you can just do whatever you want and rely on me to get you out of trouble.”

Mulder flushed again, staring at his shoes.

“Was it really hard to convince them to let me stay?” he whispered.

“Yes, Mulder. Very hard.” Mac waited.

“I do have to be punished don’t I?” He chewed on his bottom lip.

“Yes, Mulder. You do.”

The young man nodded, and undid his jeans, blushing furiously as he lowered them down his legs, and bent over the desk. Mac tugged his briefs down as well, ignoring Mulder’s whimper of protest, and then set about the caning, delivering it with a firm hand, as fast as he could, to get it over with as soon as possible. Afterwards Mulder stood up shakily, righting his clothing, tears rolling down his cheeks. Mac threw the cane back into the umbrella stand with a sigh, feeling sure that he had just done the wrong thing, and ruined the fragile bond of trust that he had built up with this young man. He felt a tugging on his sleeve and turned back to find Mulder standing there, looking lost and forlorn.

“Are you still angry with me, Mac?” he asked anxiously.

“No, Mulder. Of course not. It’s over now.” Mac nearly wept himself from the relief that registered on Mulder’s tear-stained face. He ushered Mulder over to the fire, and brought him a mug of the sweet tea that he liked himself and which Mulder now copied him by drinking. He also cut him a generous slice of chocolate cake.

“I’m sorry for crying,” Mulder accepted the cake, wiping his tears away with his shirt sleeve. “I won’t cry next time, Mac. I promise.”

“Next time?” Mac put his arms around the student, and hugged him. “Oh god, Mulder,” he said into the young man’s hair. “Please, please, don’t let there be a next time.”

“But there was?” Skinner sighed.

“Unfortunately yes. You know our dear young friend’s propensity for getting into trouble.” Mac made a face. “But it always worked, Walter. He would be a model student for several weeks afterwards. Of course he couldn’t keep it up forever, it’s not in his nature, but those few weeks were blissful. He’d be charming, erudite, entertaining, and totally loveable.”

“That’s how he’s been with me recently,” Skinner grunted.

“I’m afraid, Walter, that sooner or later, he’ll test your limits. That’s just Mulder. He’ll need to get the measure of you, see how far he can push you before you snap.”

“Oh god.” Skinner put his head back and groaned. “I’m not looking forward to this, Mac. How should I play it?”

“Try not to let it get too far. Remind him who’s in charge before he gets out of hand. Right now, he’s got you lulled into a false sense of security. Trust me, I’ve been there with him! Just when you think he’s mended his ways, and turned over a new leaf, he does something so appalling that it’s all you can do to keep your temper or stay sane! In the beginning, he tested me a lot – I think he just wanted to know what the limits were. I expect he’ll do the same to you, to be honest with you, Walter.”

“He’s a lot older now…” Skinner pointed out.

“Yes, but still the same old Mulder,” Mac sighed. “When I visited him last year I couldn’t believe how much his behavior had deteriorated without me around to keep a constant eye on him. It’s not just his disregard for the people who care about him, and the lunatic ideas he gets into his head, it’s the way he risks his own personal safety as well. I dread to think that one day he’ll kill himself because nobody was looking out for him, or reminding him how valuable he is to us.”

“I’m with you on all of that,” Skinner nodded. “And I’m glad you came over here this evening, Mac. I’ve been shirking the heavier side of my duties where Mulder is concerned. I think a small reminder is required.”

“Very wise, Walter. Very wise. And on that note, I think I should go.” Mac glanced at his watch. “Goodness! It is late. I’m so pleased to talk to you, Walter. And I’m delighted to have found somebody worthy of taking over the onerous task of looking out for Mulder. He deserves the best, and I think you’re that.”

Skinner flushed at the unexpected compliment. Mac really had a way of making people feel valued and appreciated. The two men shook hands, and he escorted Mac to the door.

“When I catch up with Mulder I’ll tell him to call and apologize for standing you up tonight,” he said.

“I’m sure you will!” Mac chuckled. “Thank you for the wine, and such an enjoyable evening, Walter. Here’s my mobile phone number, what do you call them? Cellphones?” He handed Skinner a card. “Call me any time, night or day, if you need any advice.”

“I will,” Skinner said, with heartfelt gratitude.

Mulder pulled the collar of his jacket tight around his throat, wishing he’d chosen warmer clothing for this stake-out. He picked up his binoculars and glanced through them again, his eyes skimming the dark water for the hundredth time. Nothing. He chewed on his lip, still arguing with his conscience. He didn’t like to think of his old tutor standing outside his apartment. Mac didn’t deserve that. Mulder knew that he’d laid his job on the line to bail Mulder out several times in the past, just as Skinner had. He also knew that it was only due to Mac’s efforts that he had left Oxford with a degree instead of a criminal record. That would have put an end to his FBI career before it even began. And now Mac had placed him in Skinner’s charge. Mulder winced, still remembering the pain and humiliation of the caning Skinner had delivered a couple of months previously. <How the hell do I get myself into these situations?> he thought mutinously. <Why do people think it’s okay to treat me as if I’m a kid? Why does Mac think I still need that kind of discipline? Why does Skinner?>

He considered the Skinner problem for a moment. Skinner wasn’t Mac, and Mulder seriously doubted whether his boss had the stomach for the sort of discipline Mac handed out. Beneath Mac’s urbane, cheerful exterior, there was a streak of tempered steel. Skinner was the opposite. He exuded toughness, and authority, but Mulder was sure that underneath he was as soft as a marshmallow. Mulder made a subconscious decision to test the waters, and find out just how far Skinner could be pushed.

Skinner turned his television on to catch the late news. Warmed by the wine he was almost asleep when some part of his brain registered the word “Potomac.” He opened his eyes and sat up.

“And as we reported in our afternoon bulletin, the strange reptilian creature reported yesterday in the Potomac, has now been linked with a series of top secret military maneuvers. A small area has now been closed to the public and is being patrolled by the marines.”

Skinner sat up straight, and reached for his phone, speed-dialling Mulder’s cellphone number.

Mulder jumped as his cellphone rang out in the damp air. He fumbled for it with cold fingers. <Damn, I thought I turned the stupid thing off.>

“Hello?” He whispered cautiously, one eye on the flashlights from the marine patrol nearby.

“Mulder. It’s Skinner.” <Shit. What does he know?> “Where are you, Mulder?”

“What, right at this minute?” Mulder stalled, ducking back away from the flashlights as they turned in his direction.

“Yes, Mulder. Right at this moment in time.”

<He sounds pissed!> “Um, I’m staking out that report of a reptile in the Potomac…” Mulder began.

“Don’t lie to me, Mulder,” Skinner said ominously. “You know there isn’t any damn monster in that river. You’re investigating top secret military activity – and if you get caught you’ll be in deep shit. Now get yourself away from there, and over here.”

“But, sir…”

“Now, Mulder. Move it. You’ve got two hours. If you’re not here by then I’m coming to get you,” Skinner snapped, severing the connection. Mulder made a face at the phone and, reluctantly, got to his feet.

“Just one question, Mulder,” Skinner said, upon opening the door to the agent a couple of hours later. “When you gave me that 302 this afternoon, did you know that you were intending to investigate military operations or were you still under the impression that you were looking for some sort of dinosaur?”

“Uh…” Mulder weighed up the situation in his head, trying to decide whether a lie was safer than the truth.

“Think very carefully before you reply.” Skinner slammed the door shut, and stood in front of his agent, looking him in the eye.

“I knew, sir.” Mulder scuffed his sneakers along the carpet, hoping that he looked suitably chastened.

“So you submitted a 302 which was, to put it mildly, ‘economical with the truth.’”

“It could have been a dinosaur, sir,” Mulder reasoned. “Or at the very least a genetic mutation, like the flukeworm. I felt I should find out. I didn’t want innocent members of the public being threatened by some sort of dangerous aquatic life form.”

“Hmm.” Skinner fixed him with a steady, assessing stare. “All right, Mulder. Because of your recent good behavior, I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt on this one. However…” His stare turned into a glare. “You are not, under any circumstances, to investigate this any further. Do I make myself clear?”

It was Mulder’s turn to glare now.

“Sir, with all due respect, I don’t think…”

“Do-I-make-myself-clear?” Skinner interrupted.

<You’re just hot air, Skinner. You won’t actually do anything!> Mulder chewed on his lip, then nodded, giving a bright smile.

“Yes, sir. Hey, I’ve got better things to do with my life than hanging out in the wet and cold spying on a bunch of marines.”

“Good,” Skinner nodded. “I mean this, Mulder. This case is nothing to do with the FBI. You simply can’t go around poking your nose into military affairs with impunity. I’m going to rescind that 302. You are forbidden to investigate this case. Now – it’s late. I suggest you stay here this evening in the spare room. Tomorrow morning, you and I are going on a little outing.”

“An outing, sir?”

“That’s right, Mulder. An outing. There’s a change of clothing in the closet. I’ll see you in the morning. Good night.” Skinner nodded curtly at the young agent, and went off to his own bedroom.

<Knew it! No trips over the nearest desk/table/chair to have something painful applied to my backside. Mac would have tanned my hide for lying about this!> Mulder made a face at Skinner’s departing back.

Mulder had no intention of letting this one drop. He slipped into bed and got out the letter he had been sent anonymously through the post the previous morning and re-read it.

Dear Agent Mulder,

You don’t know me, but I’ve heard about you. You might like to know that alien technology is being used in secret experiments. Scientists at a military base have been observed experimenting with an organic aquatic “smart” weapon, capable of thought and independent decision making, using alien genetic material. The current whereabouts of the weapon is unclear after an attempt was made to steal it three days ago. It’s possible it’s been dumped in the Potomac.

Yours sincerely,

A Friend.”

There was no way he was showing this letter to Skinner. He could just imagine what the response would be. Somehow, he would have to find a way of continuing with this investigation without making his boss suspicious.

“Where are we going?” Mulder asked, hovering by the car. Skinner had given him breakfast, and made friendly conversation over the morning paper, so he didn’t think he was in any shit. If he could just convince Skinner that he intended to drop this case, then he could lie low for a couple of days, and go back to investigate further when his boss had dropped his guard.

“Never mind. Just get in.” Skinner gave him a smile that sent shivers down Mulder’s spine. “I had a visitor last night,” Skinner said conversationally, as they drove.

“Yeah?” Mulder looked out of the window. If they were using alien DNA, then that would be his biggest break ever. He just needed to get his hands on some of that material, get Scully to analyze it, and…

“It was Mac.” Skinner said.

“Hmm? That’s nice.” …and then he’d have evidence, which was what he’d been looking for all these years. “What?” He twisted around to stare at his boss.

“Mac. Dr Macclesfield. Your old tutor?” Skinner was intrigued by Mulder’s reaction. He was jumpy – like a man with a guilty conscience.

“Oh.” Mulder turned this over furiously in his head.

“He was upset to have missed you.” Skinner murmured.

“How upset?” Mulder inquired nervously.

“Just upset because he was looking forward to seeing you. He and I had an interesting chat…” Skinner let that hang ominously in the air.

“Oh.” Mulder said again, flushing. <Damn, what sort of a game is Skinner playing? And what did Mac tell him?> Somehow he couldn’t shake off a sensation of imminent danger.

Skinner pulled up outside a store displaying a variety of leather items in the window.

“What is this place? Shit, it’s some sort of sex shop!” Mulder glanced over at Skinner. “Why have you brought me here?”

“It’s all right, Mulder. I promise I don’t want to have sex with you.” Skinner cast an amused glance at the agent. He got out of the car, and beckoned Mulder to follow him into the shop. “Right, Mulder. Take as long as you like,” Skinner said briskly. “Just go around, and pick out three items. Any three of your choice.”

“What sort of items?” Mulder’s eyes darted nervously to a set of leather handcuffs, and a ball gag.

“Disciplinary items, Mulder. It’s your butt they’ll be used on, so it’s only fair you get to choose. You might like to make them as diverse as possible – that would give us a choice depending on the nature of the offense, and how severe the penalty should be.”

“There’s no need for this, sir,” Mulder whispered, flushing furiously as the shop assistant gave them a bored glance. “You won’t need to use anything on me. I told you. Have I screwed up once since…since…you know…what happened in Oxford?”

“No, Mulder, you haven’t. But I feel we’re at a crossroads in our relationship.” Skinner put his hand on Mulder’s shoulder, and guided him over to a display rack of paddles. “You want to go one way, and I want you to go another. Now I can’t force you to choose my path, but I think it’s only fair to remind you what the likely consequences of going the other way are. Now choose,” he said firmly.

Mulder stared at the paddles glumly for several moments, casting surreptitious glances at Skinner from under his eyelashes. Skinner was over the other side of the shop, flicking through a magazine that featured a naked, big breasted woman on the front cover, with a bored expression on his face. <Is the guy made of stone, or what? He’s reading a sex magazine and he looks bored?> Mulder forced his attention back to the paddles. They all looked unpleasant. Finally he selected one that was well made, with a sleek, black rubber surface, which at least wouldn’t splinter upon contact with his backside. It was also the most expensive one there. <Fine. Skinner wants to put me through this humiliation, let him pay for it.> Mulder grinned slyly, wandering over to a display cabinet of straps. He chose a sturdy one, with a split down the middle, and an even more exorbitant price tag than the last. Finally, he found a selection of canes. <Well after years suffering at Mac’s hands, at least you know something about these, Mulder.> He chose a springy one, which was also astronomically expensive for no reason that Mulder could understand – being four times the price of any of the others. <Huh. That’ll teach you, Skinner!>

He took his selection of items over and dumped them at the checkout. Skinner looked up.

“Finished? Good.” He got out his wallet, and watched as the shop assistant rang the items through the till.

“You’ve got good taste,” the shop assistant murmured, winking at Mulder, as she picked up the cane. “This one is a “dragon” cane, made of a special sort of wood – dense but springy. That’s why it’s so expensive. It’s just about the most painful cane you can find.”

“Shit…” Mulder grabbed the cane back. “Look, I’ve changed my mind. I’ll choose another one.”

“Leave it.” Skinner put a big hand around Mulder’s wrist, making him drop the cane. “We’ll save it for special occasions shall we, Mulder?” He smiled, nodding at the shop assistant to wrap the item and put it in a bag with the other instruments of discipline.

“Fine,” Mulder fumed. “You want to have to pay that price for a stick of wood then go ahead.”

“It’s a price I’m happy to pay, Mulder,” Skinner said, handing over a whole fistful of cash without blinking an eye at the high sum. “Just remember that I’m not going to be the only one paying a price if you choose to lie to me, or disobey me in future.”

“You’re wasting your money,” Mulder shrugged. “There is no way, no way that any of those items are going anywhere near my butt.”

“I’m pleased to hear it,” Skinner said, with sincerity. “But that’s down to you, Mulder. It’s entirely out of my hands.”

“You don’t trust me!” Mulder accused. “I’ve done my best to make you trust me but you don’t. All that stuff about being my friend, those scuba diving lessons, the basketball games…it was all crap, wasn’t it?”

“Of course not.”

“Don’t fucking lie to me!” Mulder yelled. “I’ve had it with you, and Mac, and your little deal.”

“Mulder, calm down. Just give me your word that you won’t pursue this investigation any further and that’ll be enough for me.”

“Okay. I give you my word. Satisfied now?” Mulder had got himself worked up into a fury, and Skinner stood there, allowing the onslaught to wash over him. “I won’t go near the goddamn Potomac. Cross my heart and hope to die. Is that enough for you?”

“Your word is always good enough for me,” Skinner said quietly.

“Yeah, right! I don’t need this kind of shit, Skinner. Fuck you.” Mulder stormed out of the shop, slamming the door behind him.

“Looks like you might be needing these sooner than you thought, sir,” the shop assistant murmured, handing Skinner the bag of implements.

There was no sign of Mulder outside. Skinner glanced around and waited in the car for half an hour, but Mulder didn’t return. <So much for the show of strength, Walter. That didn’t exactly go as planned, did it?> Wearily, Skinner returned home, and dug out the card Mac had given him the previous evening.

“He’s testing you,” Mac told him. “I said he would, Walter. The truth is that he wants to investigate this Potomac mystery, and he’s trying to make you into the bad guy, so that he can disregard your orders without feeling guilty.”

“I thought it might be something like that,” Skinner sighed. “Hell, Mac, I don’t think I’m up to this, it’s too complicated – he’stoo complicated. I think I might end up doing more harm than good. Maybe I should call this whole thing off…”

“Walter, please, don’t. Hang in there.” Mac sounded genuinely worried. “People have been running out on Mulder all his life and he doesn’t deserve it. Part of the reason he’s testing you is to see whether you really will be there for him, or whether you’ll bail out at the first sign of trouble. He likes you and he respects you – even if he is behaving like a brat at the moment. You’ve warned him what to expect if he disobeys you, and now you must just give him the time and space to come to his own decisions.”

“That’s hard.”

“Looking out for Mulder is never easy!” Mac laughed. “But I have every faith and confidence in you, Walter. I’m sure you’ll do the right thing. You have an instinctive feel for dealing with Mulder. You should listen to those instincts. I’m sure they’ll always prove to be good ones.”

Mulder zipped up his wetsuit and pulled on his scuba mask, depositing his cellphone, gun, and ID behind a bush. He glanced at his watch. Nearly 10 p.m. Looking through his binoculars, he could see the marines patrolling the perimeter of the makeshift fence they had erected. There was a lot of helicopter activity going on out there tonight. <Something’s clearly about to happen, and I damn well intend to witness it, whatever Assistant Director Stalin has to say about it!>

He sat down suddenly, overwhelmed by a sense of panic. <Damn you, Skinner. I’m not turning back because of you.> Images from the past couple of months rushed into his mind. For the first time in years, he had felt as if he belonged somewhere, as if someone cared about him. He recalled shooting hoops with the Assistant Director, being taken out to lunch by the other man. They’d discussed the Civil War, and the breadth of Skinner’s knowledge on the subject had surprised Mulder. Mulder had pursued his interest the Civil War as a minor hobby after the incident with Melissa and the Temple of the Seven Stars, but Skinner had been an aficionado for several years and he had lent Mulder some good books on the subject. He’d enjoyed Skinner’s company, and his friendship. <You aren’t exactly blessed with many friends, Mulder. And those you do have get pissed with you and disappear out of your life without so much as a goodbye. Skinner will do the same. Just as soon as he realizes what a nutcase you are. He won’t want anything to do with you. Better by far to push him away now before he realizes. He won’t come after you. When he realizes you’ve disobeyed him, he won’t be able to backtrack out of this little arrangement fast enough, Mac or no Mac. So I get my freedom back, and he gets his life back.> Mulder nodded to himself, and checked the pressure gauge on his scuba equipment. <At least he taught you something useful. Scuba diving is definitely a skill you’re going to need in this investigation!> Mulder strapped his oxygen tank to his back, and set off for the water’s edge.

Skinner tried Mulder’s cellphone several times, but it was switched off. Finally he decided to head over to the other man’s apartment. There was no reply to his knock, so he used the key that Mulder had lent him to let himself in, but a quick glance was enough to convince him that Mulder wasn’t there. It didn’t take an Einstein to work out where Mulder had gone.

Skinner was about to leave, when a thought occurred to him. He went into Mulder’s bedroom, where he knew the other man kept his scuba equipment, and searched through his closet. No sign of it. Skinner gave a weary sigh, his worst fears being confirmed. He walked back to his car grimly, then set off back to his apartment to pick up his own scuba equipment.

<You are going to be sorry you were ever born, Mulder. When I get my hands on you, I’m going to…> Skinner ran various scenarios through his mind. Whatever he did, it had to be effective enough to persuade Mulder that there was no way he would tolerate this sort of disobedience, no way he would ever run out on the other man, and equally, that there was no way that he was going to let Mulder run out on himself either.

Mulder was halfway across the makeshift compound, moving stealthily towards the silently parked helicopter at the far end, when the alarm went off and the floodlights came on. The dogs appeared out of nowhere, and he turned and fled back towards the water, but he wasn’t fast enough. He felt a thud as a paw hit the small of his back, and he went down with the animal’s teeth wrapped around his arm. A few seconds later, the dog was pulled off him, and a burly marine yanked him to his feet. Mulder swung his fist ineffectually, and tried to make a run for it, but the marine was too fast. He punched Mulder on the jaw, and the agent went down, cracking his head on concrete as he landed.

“Who are you?” The marine shone the flashlight into Mulder’s eyes.

“Nobody,” Mulder shrugged, feeling dizzy. He had no intention of telling them who he was or who he worked for. His mind started to race ahead. This one was big. Even Skinner wouldn’t be able to haul his ass out of this one, even if he wanted to, which, after his behavior over the past couple of days, Mulder seriously doubted.

“Well, Mr. Nobody, you’re under arrest.”

The marine got hold of Mulder by the collar and started to pull him towards a makeshift hut next to the helicopter. Mulder wasn’t quite sure what happened next. Suddenly the marine just seemed to fall down, then the dog did the same. Mulder’s arm was seized by someone wearing a wetsuit, a black mask obscuring his features, and then he found himself being dragged back to the water.

“Where’s your scuba equipment?” his rescuer asked.

“Here.” Mulder located the oxygen tank and mask and secured them hurriedly, while the other diver did the same, and then they both lowered themselves back into the water and began their descent.

Mulder followed the other man, still not entirely sure what was going on. Somewhere behind them he heard shouting, and shots rang out. Mulder saw a bullet graze his rescuer’s arm and the man clutched it briefly, before grabbing Mulder’s shoulder and gesturing that they should go deeper. Mulder nodded. His head hurt, and his vision was blurry. He vaguely remembered Skinner warning him how important it was not to go scuba diving unless you felt 100% fit, and the next thing he knew everything went black. He regained consciousness to find himself being dragged out of the water, his mask ripped off, and his rescuer’s hands pumping his chest.

“It’s okay. I’m okay,” he murmured weakly. “Just…cold…”

“We need to get you away from here. They’ll have raised the alarm by now, ” his rescuer told him tersely. “You also need urgent medical attention. Dammit Mulder, why are you always risking your life in these foolhardy quests of yours?” To Mulder’s eternal surprise, the other man held him against his chest for a second in a tight embrace, his breath warming the back of Mulder’s head. “None of us want to lose you. You’re too valuable,” the man murmured.

“Sir?” Mulder struggled to make out the other man’s features beneath the mask. “Is that you, sir?”

“Of course it damn well is! Who else would swim two miles underwater to rescue your ungrateful ass? Now, can you walk?”

“I’ll be fine.”

Mulder tried to get up, but his muscles felt too stiff and frozen to work properly and he could barely stand. He fell back again, his whole body suffused by shivering. “My cellphone…badge…” Mulder pointed at the bush where he’d left his ID, and Skinner swiftly retrieved them.

“Okay. Hold still.” Skinner expertly stripped the wet suit off Mulder, leaving him dressed in shorts and a tee shirt, and then disappeared. He reappeared with a blanket a few moments later, and wrapped Mulder up in it tightly, swinging the other man up in his arms and carrying him back to his car. Mulder could feel blood running down the side of his face, and he stared at his boss blearily, trying to make sense of events. He was dumped in the front seat of the car, and Skinner got in beside him and drove off. Mulder could feel himself slipping in and out of consciousness throughout the journey, but his boss didn’t say a word to him. They drew up outside the hospital, and the other man hauled him out of the car and carried him into the ER, bellowing loudly for attention and calling over a whole horde of doctors and nurses.

End of Part One

Continued in Chapter 2