Title:  Familiar Feelings 01/01
Author:  Daydreamer
Author E-Mail:  Daydream59@aol.com
Rating:  PG - some disturbing imagery
Category:  SA MSR 
Archive: Yes, please
Feedback:  Yes! Please!

Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully, et al,  are owned by Chris 
Carter, 1013 Productions, Fox Television Network, etc.  
They are wonderfully brought to life by David Duchovny 
and Gillian Anderson. I will make no profit from this, and 
neither will Fox if they sue me, for I am poor and have 
nothing material they can profit from.

Comments:  A Companion Piece to Susan Proto's 
Familiar Faces

Summary:  With Skinner's help, Mulder faces his
history of abuse from his father.

Familiar Feelings
A Companion Piece to 
Susan Proto's Familiar Faces


Mulder smiled at Scully as they walked through the small park
near their office.  "Skinner's gonna be there?  Again?" he said
jokingly.

She rolled her eyes then looked up at him.  "Yes, Mulder, 
Skinner is going to be there.  You know he's seeing Mom
on a fairly regular basis now."

Mulder chuckled, "Yeah, I know.  It's just hard for me to 
picture Skinner and your mother.  He's so . . ."  He shrugged.
"And your mom.  She's so . . ."  He grinned.  "Well, you
know."

They both laughed.  "It does seem rather odd to me too, Mulder,"
Scully agreed.

"I have to admit, this is not the Skinner I've come to expect.  I
didn't realize the man had a sense of humor at all.  He continues
to surprise me."

Scully was smiling.  "My mom brings out the best in people."
She looked up at him, her smile widening to a grin.  "Just look
at you, *Fox,*" she teased.

Mulder smiled back. "Well, he certainly seems smitten with your
mom."

Scully laughed again.  "Smitten, Mulder?  Come on, this is the 
nineties."

"Yeah, well, I don't think Skinner is a totally nineties kinda
guy."

"Probably a good thing," Scully commented.  "I don't think
Mom would really want a nineties kind of guy."

Mulder stopped walking and pulled Scully into an embrace.
"And what about you?    Do you want a nineties kind of guy?
'Cause I gotta tell you - I'm completely smitten here."  He
gave her a lopsided grin, his eyes soft as he looked down at
her.

"I want you, Mulder," she said, "Only you."

He kissed her softly, then turned, taking her hand, and they
began walking again.

"So, what time do we have to be there?" he said.

"I told Mom we'd be there around noon.  That'll give me
a chance to help her with the potato salad and deviled
eggs.  You and *Walter* have been given the honor of
handling the barbecue."  She smiled slyly at him.

Mulder groaned.  "Oh, please, no, not that.  You know how
I am with charcoal."  He eyed her pleadingly.  "And besides,
I'm afraid of fire."  He grinned.

Scully laughed again, "Oh, suck it up, Mulder.  You can 
handle it."

Mulder sighed, then said, "Well, one can only hope
Skinner knows how to handle a grill; otherwise, you
better take sandwich makings."

***************************************************

Saturday dawned clear and warm.  It was a beautiful day for
early autumn as Scully and Mulder set out to make the drive
to Baltimore.  Casual clothes, windows down, relaxed and
enjoying the moment.

When they arrived, Margaret met them at the door, immediately
engulfing Scully in a huge hug, then turning to pull Mulder
down into her embrace as well.

"There you are," she said.  "I didn't think you'd ever get
here!"

"Mom," Scully said, "it's 12:02!  I told you we'd be here
by noon.  I hardly think you had reason to get concerned."

Margaret smiled, her eyes twinkling.  "Well, I was just
beginning to get a little worried."  She took their arms,
leading them into the house.  "Come on, there's lots
to do."

Mulder and Scully followed her through the house to the
kitchen.  Skinner was there, standing at the counter by the
sink, slicing tomatoes into cubes.

Scully said, "Hello, Sir."

He looked up, smiling, and said, "Walter, remember?   It's
Walter off duty."

"Oh.  Right.  Hello, Walter," she said, the name still unfamiliar 
on her tongue.

"Well, it's still Mulder for me," Mulder said as he walked 
across the room towards Skinner.

Skinner turned.  "What?  I don't get to call you Fox, like
Maggie does?" he teased.

Mulder smiled, but his eyes narrowed in warning.  "Don't
even think about it," he said.

Skinner laughed uproariously and reached out and slapped
Mulder on the arm.  The younger man immediately cringed,
stepping back several paces, dropping to a crouch, and
lifting his hands in a protective gesture before his face.

Time froze.  No one moved.  No one said anything.  All
eyes were glued to Mulder.

At last Skinner said, "Holy shit, Mulder.  Are you all right?"
He took a step forward, hand reaching out, then stopped,
uncertain if his offer of help would be welcomed.

Mulder's eyes were unfocused, and it took him a minute to 
see the hand, partly extended to him.  He looked up to find 
Skinner's face hovering in the air above him.  He closed hihs
eyes for a long moment, then stared at the floor as he rocked
back onto both heels.  He caught his balance and rose 
awkwardly, looking around to see Maggie and Scully both 
staring at him. 

He flushed, turning bright red in embarrassment.  "I, uh - well,"
he shrugged.  "Sorry."  He turned and darted out the back door
and into the back yard.

Scully started to follow, but Skinner reached out, stopping her.
"No, Dana.  This is the second time he's reacted like this.  
Remember the office a few weeks ago?  Well, I was the 
trigger both times.  Let me go talk to him."

She studied him carefully, then slowly nodded.  "If he gets
upset you come get me," she ordered.

"I'll come get you if he gets *too* upset," Skinner amended.

Finally, Scully nodded again, and Skinner went out the back door.

*****************************************************

He found Mulder seated at the picnic table, studying the wooden
boards as if they were the most interesting things in the world.  He
approached slowly, and when he was several feet away, he called,
"Mulder?"

The younger man looked up.  Unshed tears glistened in his eyes.
"I, uh, would really like to be alone, Sir," he said.

Skinner took two steps forward.  "It's all right, Mulder," he said.

"No, Sir, it's not all right."

Skinner took another step and then gently reached out and laid his
hand on Mulder's shoulder.  The younger man flinched at the 
touch, but then relaxed.  "I - I'm sorry, Sir.  I know you wouldn't
hurt me."

Skinner slowly began to knead the shoulder, feeling the tight
muscles, the tautness through the back.  He took another couple
steps forward, till he was standing directly behind Mulder.

"That's right, Mulder,"  Skinner said.  "I would never hurt
you."  He paused, then added, "Do you really know that?"

Mulder shrugged.  "I think so.  I - I think I know that.  But
sometimes, it - it just washes over me like a wave, and I can't
do anything about it."

Skinner placed his other hand on Mulder's other shoulder.
His legs were flush against Mulder's back, and he began a 
gentle massage of the other man's shoulders.

"Tell me," he said softly.

Mulder dropped his head into his hands.  "I don't know
if I can," he whispered.

Skinner slowly slid his hand down to Mulder's chest, and
pulled the younger man to him, in a gentle hug.   "You can,
Mulder.  It's OK, you're safe.  I'm not gonna hurt you."
He released him, leaving his hands to rest lightly on
his shoulders, and said once more, "Tell me."

There was a long, heavy silence, then Mulder shuddered
and drew in a deep ragged breath.  "It was always so 
sudden, so unexpected.  I'd think everything was OK, and
suddenly, he'd lash out, and I'd go flying across the 
room.  I - I wouldn't even know what I'd done."

He looked up, his eyes meeting Skinner's.  "I was a good
kid," he said, vestiges of disbelief in his voice.

Skinner patted him gently, "I'm sure you were, Mulder."

"No.  Sir, this is really important!  You've got to understand.
I was *really* a good kid.  Especially after Samantha disappeared.
I felt so guilty, and my mom needed me so much.  And  I
guess somewhere deep down inside of me, I figured if she could
disappear, I could too.  And I was *really* a good kid."  He
dropped his head again. 

Skinner squeezed his shoulder.  "I understand, Mulder.  It is
important.  And I'm sure you were a good kid."

Mulder nodded, then looked up gratefully.  "Even then,
I knew I was a good kid.  And so, I couldn't make sense
of why he kept hitting me like that."  His eyes fell again,
staring at the ground.  "It was a long time later before I
came to understand that I was just a convenient outlet
for his rage.  It probably wasn't even really directed at
me.  But I spent my whole adolescence trying to stay out
of the way of his arm, his hand, his fist, his foot.  Trying
to figure out what I'd done that time. Promising I'd
never do it again.  Trying to convince myself  I'd do
better next time.  And somewhere in the back of my 
head, trying to convince myself it wasn't my fault.  Trying
to stay sane."

Mulder gave a little shake and pulled away from Skinner,
rising, to walk to little ways away and stand by a small 
garden shed.  "I guess that's why I went into Psych.  Trying
to understand myself."

"Gotten any insights?" Skinner asked.

"Yeah, some, " Mulder replied.  "I mean, I know on an
intellectual level, it wasn't my fault.  I understand the
syndrome.  But, uh, understanding it doesn't change the
experience."  He gave a shaky little laugh.

"And some learned behaviors are so deeply ingrained that
you just - respond - without thinking, even in a totally
different context."  His voice was surer now.  He turned
and met Skinner's gaze.  "I'm really sorry, Sir."


"No, Mulder. You have nothing to be sorry for.  I'm the one
who should apologize.  I knew, from what happened in the office
a few weeks back, that that type of horseplay had the potential
to upset you.  And I didn't think.  I did it again.  And I am
truly, very sorry."

Mulder nodded gravely, accepting the apology.  He stood
looking at the ground, then wrapped his arms around his chest,
hugging himself.  "You know what was worse?"  He looked up, 
searching Skinner's eyes.  "Worse than the beatings, worse than
being hit?"

"No, Mulder.  What was worse?"

"Being ignored.  He completely ignored me.  And I swear, 
as I got older, I used to provoke him on purpose, just so 
he'd look at me, talk to me, acknowledge me, touch me.  
Even if it was - to knock me across the room - at least he 
touched me.  He knew I was alive.  I was still there."

Skinner closed his eyes, and drew in a quiet breath.  When he
opened them, Mulder was staring at the ground again.

"I missed - having a father who touched me.  Before Samantha
disappeared, he used to read to me.  He read to us both.  He'd
come sit on my bed and talk to me, when he got home, late
at night.  He taught me to play chess.  He would pat my shoulder 
as he walked by, or ruffle my hair.  He touched me a lot before
Samantha disappeared.

"I never did figure out why he did it.  At first, I thought he blamed
me for losing Samantha.  I was being punished."

Skinner winced at the nonchalance in Mulder's tone, the attitude 
that his father's behavior was acceptable and understandable in 
light of his 'crime.'

"But as I got older and realized how much he drank, I thought
maybe it was because of the alcohol.  And then, after the divorce,
I thought maybe he just couldn't be bothered.  I just don't know -
and now, I guess I never will"  This last was uttered as a mere whisper.

Mulder stood in silence, then mumured, "Yeah, that was the worst. 
I - uh," he shook his head.  "That was the worst."

Skinner stood looking at the tall young man, arms wrapped
protectively about his body, head down, gazing at the ground.
One toe drew lazy circles in the grass, his lower lip quivered, and
as Skinner watched, a fat tear slid down his face to splash against
his shirt.

He stepped closer to Mulder, then said gently, "Mulder, not every 
man who touches you will touch you in anger."

Mulder nodded, a short, jerky up and down movement of his head. 
"I know that, Sir.  I know that."

"Mulder, look at me."

Mulder lifted his head, his eyes seeking Skinner's.  "Sir?"

"You were a good kid, Mulder.  You didn't deserve that."
Skinner opened his arms and extended them towards
Mulder.  "You deserved to know the good touches - gentleness,
care, love.  Now, you're a good man, Mulder.  You need to let
this go."

Mulder's eyes were full, and as he looked at Skinner standing
there, arms open, waiting, the tears began to fall.  "I don't know 
if I can, Sir," he choked.

"You can, Mulder.  It's all right."  Skinner stood patiently.

Mulder took one step forward, then froze, arms tightening 
around his chest, and he rocked in place.  "I don't know
if I can," he said again.

"You can, Mulder, you can."

He took another step and Skinner's fingers brushed his arms.
He grabbed him and pulled him into a tight embrace. The 
younger man began to sob.  Mulder buried his head in Skinner's
shoulder, the tears poured out, and he grieved.

There, in the arms of a man he respected, a man he looked
up to, a man he had come to care for, a man who cared for
him, he was finally safe to grieve.  To grieve for the little boy 
whose father had forgotten how to touch him in love.

End


Daydreamer