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Title: Skinner's Gift Summary: What can a man offer who believes he has nothing to give? The pungent odor of evergreen assaulted his nose before he even rounded the corner. The door to his office was open, revealing a tiny Christmas tree on his desk. Skinner frowned at the miniature foliage as if it were a terrible eyesore. Who could have left this here? He'd come into the office late, hoping to miss all the holiday revelers and their overly cheerful platitudes. He was alone, and didn't need to be reminded that once again he'd spend Christmas Eve without anyone to share it. White lights winked merrily under a small angel ornament that sat atop the potted tree. As he drew near, a small box wrapped in red tissue paper stuck out from underneath it. Skinner's frown deepened. Someone had left him a present as well? With more hesitation than he had felt in a long time, he picked the box up and carefully unwrapped it. Inside, nestled in the tissue, was a miniature gold frame. Inside that was a picture of Scully holding baby William and smiling broadly for the camera. The paper card merely said: 'Merry Christmas, Sir.' Skinner sat down in his leather chair with a heavy thud. How was it possible that one small woman and a tiny baby could make him feel so helpless? Suddenly the phone on his desk rang, shattering the silence. Skinner picked it up knowing who it was before she even spoke. "Skinner." "Sir? Did you get our present?" "Yes, Agent Scully." "I hope you like it. I gave it to Kim last week to leave for you, because I wasn't sure about coming back to the office so soon..." "Yes, Agent Scully I like it." He made no other comment, waiting in the silence that followed. Guilt over not reciprocating the gift weighed heavily on him. "Are you alone?" she asked in a quiet voice. Skinner let out a puff of air. Nothing like getting to the heart of the matter. "Yes, Agent Scully." "Would you like to come over here?" He was about to decline when he thought he detected a quiver in her voice. "Where's your family, Agent Scully?" "They were all going to come over here, but got stuck in Virginia by the blizzard." Skinner knew about that. It had gratefully missed the Washington D.C. area, but had created havoc with holiday travelers. Her family had been visiting her brother Bill before planning the drive to D.C. for the holidays. "And Mulder?" "He drove to his Mother's house in North Carolina to visit her grave. I haven't been able to reach him." This time she couldn't hide the tremor in her voice. Without hesitation, Skinner answered. "I'll be right over." Standing outside the varnished door, he could hear the sound of a baby crying when he reached Scully's apartment. He wondered if he should simply leave, not wanting to be an addition to her problems. With a sigh, he gave in and added the noise of his knock to the baby's cries. When Scully opened the door, Skinner was shocked by her appearance. She was wearing pajamas and slippers. Her normally perfect hair hung limply around her pale face, and dark circles were painted under her eyes. She gave him a weak smile when she looked up. William's small fists were waving in the air in anger or pain as he lay cradled in Scully's arms. Skinner thought the sight was the furthest from a blissful mother-and-child picture that he had ever seen. "Hello, sir. Please come in." She sounded cheerful, but a quiet desperation floated just below the surface. Skinner chastised himself for wanting to leave. Scully obviously needed help. "Scully," he muttered and stepped inside. Her apartment was neat, but baby paraphernalia was strewn over the floor and furniture. A strangled squeak came out of the couch when Skinner sat down. He pulled a stuffed turtle out of the cushions that squeaked again in protest as he looked around for a place to put it. Scully swallowed a laugh, "Sorry sir." She took the offending toy and placed it in a basket over- flowing with other stuffed creatures. Skinner felt as uncomfortable as he could remember being in the presence of a Dana Scully clad only in flannel PJs. Even without makeup and obviously feeling overwhelmed, he thought she was beautiful. He shifted on the couch trying to buy time while he thought of something to say. "I'm sorry about the mess." Scully sat down next to him. "Thank you for coming over." "No problem at all." He looked with concern at William, who continued to howl. "Is something wrong with the baby?" Scully gave him a wry smile. "Nothing that a feeding wouldn't cure." Skinner looked at her with trepidation and she added, "I'll just go in the other room to feed him if you don't mind." He looked down at his hands and muttered something about not minding at all. "But please don't leave," she said as if he'd bolt for the door the moment he got the chance. "I won't be long." It had crossed his mind, but he nodded mutely. He watched Scully pad across the room, cooing softly to William. He'd thought she'd make a good mother, and was gratified to see he was right. Looking around her apartment again, he realized how much it had changed. The last time he could remember being here, he'd been looking for a computer disc. Her furnishings had been tasteful, but homey. It had also been very neat. So neat, in fact, he'd been overly careful when moving anything around in case she'd notice. Now it was still homey, but maybe a bit more so than before. Skinner shucked his coat and decided he could best help her now by straightening up. He rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt, and got to work. He found blankets, jumpers, and more squeak toys in various locations throughout the living room. The couch yielded a pacifier, and a small bottle of baby powder. By the time he was done, Skinner thought he'd found enough items to stock a child's store. When he went into the kitchen in search of coffee, he was met with a sink full of dishes. There wasn't any coffee made, so he opened cabinets in the vain hope of finding something he could brew. Several pouches of instant coffee seemed to be the only thing Scully had. It was the sort of thing she might keep around for other people that visited. Skinner put water on to boil and glanced at the sink. Well, he thought, there's the next task. He filled the sink with scalding water and suds. Judging by the amount of crusty food on them, Skinner thought it must have been quite a while since she'd washed dishes. He frowned as he washed. Scully was thin, and he'd noticed the lack of foodstuffs in the cabinets. Had she been living off whatever she could find in the house? Her family would have been here by now, and surely she'd have shopped. Then it hit him. William was only a few months old, and she may have felt it was unsafe to take him out in severe weather by herself. Even though they'd been spared the blizzard, snow was still thigh deep in many areas. He was just coming to the decision of going out for groceries when Scully startled him. "Sir! What are you doing?" She was acting like she'd caught him doing something embarrassing. "Uh, doing the dishes," Skinner stammered. She marched forward with a sleeping William in her arms. "If you want to do something useful, hold the baby while I shower." Before he could say another word, she thrust the baby forward waiting for his acceptance of the small bundle. He removed his arms from the soapy water, and dried his hands on the cotton towel slung over his shoulder. Scully handed him the baby without a word. When he risked a look at her, he saw something odd in her expression. *She* was the one embarrassed by the situation. By going into the kitchen, he'd stumbled on her untidiness, and compounded his mistake by trying to correct it. She turned around and left without another word. Skinner felt strange. He was holding a baby so she could shower. She could have laid him down, but instead brought the baby out for him to hold. Was she afraid he'd still run out? Looking down at the baby's sleeping form, he knew he'd been wrong. William's tiny face was no longer reddened with anger, and his features were lax in sleep. He was perfect; there was no other word to adequately describe him. Scully had brought him out for Skinner to see just how perfect William was. Dishes now forgotten, Skinner turned off the kettle, and gingerly walked back into the living room. An over-stuffed rocking chair sat in one corner, and he eased his large frame down on it carefully. He'd never had children and wasn't sure if there was a specific technique to rocking a baby properly. Eventually, he decided on a slow and steady rhythm, one that allowed him to admire the baby a little more. He found himself deep in thought. The past seven years had been fraught with danger, intrigue, and the forming/disillusionment of many 'relationships.' At the heart of it had been his two agents who never seemed to be without controversy. He'd been their friend, supposed enemy and confidant. And each of them had lost so much. Mulder lost his sister, Father, and Mother. Scully had lost her father, and sister. He'd lost Sharon. They'd also lost and regained the X-files more than once. So much of the past seemed about loss. But now they'd gained something new. A true miracle. Scully, who'd been told she could never have children, had given birth to a beautiful son. Mulder was conflicted at first, but in the end couldn't resist William anymore than Skinner could now. He was so lost in thought, that he didn't hear Scully shut off the shower, or see her rejoin him in the living room. "Is he still asleep?" she asked quietly. Skinner startled, but covered up quickly. She was wearing something casual now, and her damp hair hung loose at the sides. She looked like she felt much better. "Yes. I should put him down." Scully walked over to the sofa and pulled out a small wicker bassinet and placed it on the sofa . "You can put him in here." Skinner crossed the space between taking small and careful steps. His large feet weren't used to taking small steps, and he nearly stumbled. He glanced at Scully who was suppressing a smirk. With big, but gentle hands, Skinner lowered his fragile burden into the bassinet. Scully moved in to settle William into a more comfortable position. He wondered why she kept the wicker bed here in the living room instead of the baby room. "I like to keep him near me," she said as if reading his mind. He understood that, given the circumstances of his birth. William's arrival had attracted more than casual interest by many parties, both hostile and benign. For a few minutes they stood looking at the impossibly small human being. Skinner marveled once again that someone so small could evoke so much emotion within him. "He *is* beautiful, isn't he?" Scully asked softly, not expecting an answer. Without thinking Skinner said, "He is because he's yours." Her head snapped up to scrutinize him. Suddenly embarrassed by the admission, Skinner looked around for his coat. "I should go-" "You just got here. Besides I have eggnog in the refrigerator." Skinner's eyebrows rose significantly. "Eggnog?" "Yes. The non-alcoholic variety. I'll go get us some. Sit," she said the last part forcefully, and Skinner sat down immediately where he stood. He wound up on the sofa next to the bassinet. William startled at the sudden dip Skinner created when his bulk pressed into the cushion. The side of the bassinette angled sharply toward him, and Skinner quickly grabbed it with both hands. He gingerly settled it snuggly into one corner of the couch, and William relaxed back into sleep. He felt like a bull in a china shop around the baby. Skinner had just breathed a sigh of relief when Scully reappeared with two glasses. He made a move to stand up, but remembered the bassinet and remained seated. Scully handed him a glass and sat next to him on the sofa. "Should we make a toast?" he asked before drinking. It was Christmas Eve, and seemed appropriate. Scully furrowed her brow. "To friends and family," she said at last. Skinner almost smiled. "Yes, to friends and family." Their glasses clinked between them and both drank in silence thinking of those friends and family. "Why don't we watch a movie?" Scully asked. Skinner was surprised by the suggestion, but recognized the stalling tactic for what it was. She still didn't want to be alone, and truth be told neither did he. "That would be fine." Scully switched the television on and clicked through the channels looking for the right film. She bypassed 'It's a Wonderful Life,' 'Miracle on Forty-Seventh Street,' and 'A Charlie Brown Christmas.' She settled on White Christmas, perhaps believing it to be neutral enough for both of them to watch. He actually liked this movie, and hadn't seen it for a number of years. As the movie progressed, Skinner noticed Scully drifting sideways toward him. More than once she startled out of a semi-sleep when her torso slid down against him. Each time she edged a little closer to him, and finally up against his side. Skinner almost laughed; Scully was trying to be polite even in the face of profound fatigue. The next time she slumped against him she didn't move. Skinner risked a look down saw the top of her head on his shoulder. After a few minutes he realized two things: she wasn't going to wake up and his shoulder was falling asleep where her head rested. He carefully removed his arm and placed it around her shoulders causing her to lean into his side. Scully's warm body settled against his in complete relaxation. Her breathing became slow and even, setting a calm rhythm between them. When he was sure she was fully asleep, he gently tried to disengage himself from her. A groggy Scully protested in a thick voice, tightening her arms around his middle. "Don't leave...stay... so comfortable." He settled back down and placed an arm around her shoulders. She responded by burrowing herself even further against his solid warmth. Between the baby snoozing softly next to him, and Scully resting comfortably on the other side, Skinner felt himself becoming progressively more relaxed. It was as if mother and child were sending hypnotic messages of sleep to fog his weary mind. As his eyelids began to droop, and he had a sudden image of what they must look like together. Anyone walking in would mistake them for something they were not: a family. Instead of the picture making him feel lonely, it made him feel needed, wanted, and useful. There was nobility in that. His last thought before he joined his impromptu family in sleep was this: he had been able to given Scully and William a gift after all. He'd given them rest and peace of mind in a lonely and hostile world. And they gave him an even finer gift than the Christmas tree: acceptance and love. End
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