Title:  Skinman on Campus
Author:  ML
Email: msnsc21@aol.com
Distribution: Ephemeral, Gossamer, and IWTB, yes; if you've archived 
my stories before, yes; if not, please just drop me a line so I can 
come visit, and keep my name and email attached. Thanks.
Spoilers: through Existence
Rating: PG-13
Keywords: Skinner POV
Summary:  The groves of academe beckon

Disclaimer:  The characters described in this story do not belong to 
me.  They are the property of Chris Carter, Ten Thirteen, and Fox 
Broadcasting, not to mention the actors who portray them.  I mean no 
infringement and I am making no profit from this.


Skinman on Campus
by ML

It's been some years since he's set foot on a college campus, and 
he's struck by how young everyone looks.  Was he ever that young?  
Skinner doubts it.

When Mulder called him, out of the blue, to ask if he'd be a guest 
lecturer for his psychology class, Skinner had been very surprised.  
He hasn't seen Mulder much since the baby was born.  He hasn't even 
seen Scully much, though she's been back at Quantico for a couple of 
months.  He feels awkward about the whole business with Kersh and how 
it was handled, though he's pretty sure that neither Mulder nor 
Scully blames him at all.  They don't have to; he blames himself.

It's been a long time since he's really enjoyed his work.  Once in a 
while, he savored a small victory, he felt like he'd scored one for 
the good guys.  But lately, it's been nothing but paperwork, and 
meetings with Kersh.  He wonders if he'll ever feel like he's made a 
difference again.  Maybe it's not too soon to think of retirement.

Once he had more ambition than he does now.  Deputy Director, even 
Director of the FBI.  Now he knows that the next time an opportunity 
arises, he will no longer be on the short list of candidates.  In 
fact, he should face up to it, it's been years since he's been on any 
list but the shit list.

He hates to admit it, but he misses arguing with Mulder, misses his 
wise-ass comments and his cavalier attitude toward everything but 
Scully, and the X-Files.  He has found himself heading for the 
basement, or picking up the phone to call Mulder about something, 
only to remember that he's no longer there.

Agent Doggett is a fine agent, doing his best with an assignment he 
doesn't understand and barely believes in.  Agent Doggett is the kind 
of guy he could have a drink with, shoot the shit, talk sports with.  
In fact, once or twice he's done just that, when he's found himself 
down in the basement.  But he's not Mulder, and he will never give 
Skinner a run for his money the way Mulder did.  Skinner didn't 
expect to miss that, but he does.

He accepted Mulder's invitation to speak, though he wonders why it's 
been offered.  He figures he'll find out, in due time.  When Mulder 
is ready to tell him.  That's his usual MO.

Skinner figures it must be between classes by the number of students 
milling about.  Shoals of them surge and eddy around him.  They part 
for him and re-form into a solid mass after he passes.  He feels like 
he must be going in the wrong direction, so few people are going his 
way.  It's like swimming upstream.

He spies Mulder standing outside the psych building, talking to a 
student.  Mulder could almost be mistaken for a graduate student 
himself.  He's dressed in jeans and a pullover sweater.  His glasses 
flash in the pale spring sunlight as he turns to smile at Skinner.

"Thanks, Dr. Mulder," the young woman says -- are they still called 
coeds? Skinner wonders -- as he walks up to them.

"No problem, Kelli," Mulder says to her.  "See you in class."  Mulder 
then turns his attention to Skinner.  "Hey, Skinman!  How's it going?"

"Don't call me that," Skinner growls as he watches the young woman 
walk away from them slowly, almost crabwise, her eyes still on Mulder 
until a bicyclist almost takes her out.  He nods toward her.  "One of 
your students?"

Mulder nods back.  "Yeah."  He opens the door to the building and 
steps aside to let Skinner enter first.

A wave of nostalgia washes over Skinner as he enters.  No matter how 
long it's been, the inside of these buildings smell and look the 
same.  Stale sweat, stale coffee, chalk dust (though he doubts anyone 
uses chalkboards anymore).  Ink, paper, that musty undefinable smell 
of higher education.  Cracked linoleum below, chipped acoustical tile 
above, and flickering fluorescent lights.  Bulletin boards all but 
smothered by multicolored flyers touting school events and safe sex, 
side by side.

Skinner shakes it off.  "How's Ag-Dana?" he asks a little awkwardly.  
It's hard to get used to calling Dana Scully by her given name, and 
he will never call her "Scully," as Mulder does.  It sounds much too 
intimate to his ears.

"Agent Dana's doing just fine," Mulder says with a knowing grin and a 
raised eyebrow.  "You can ask her yourself later.  She's joining us 
for lunch."  They've arrived at Mulder's office.  "She's writing a 
book, did she tell you?"

Skinner shakes his head.  Mulder probably knows without being told by 
him that he's barely talked to Dana lately.  "What's it about?"

"Scientific analysis of paranormal phenomena.  I swear, *she* should 
be the academic, with titles like that.  We have a little friendly 
competition going on, to see who gets published first."

"Are you writing on the same subject?"  Skinner asks.

"As if!" Mulder chortles.  Skinner can't remember ever hearing Mulder 
laugh like that, or using that phrase.  "I'm writing a novel about 
two investigators of the paranormal, loosely based on some of the 
cases Scully and I investigated.  I've already got a publisher 
interested.  Could work into a series of novels."

"What does the University think of this?"

"Since I'm using a pseudonym, they don't have to know," Mulder 
winked.  "Scully thinks it's cheating."  Mulder raises a coffee mug 
to Skinner.  "Want some coffee?"

Skinner accepts a mug and Mulder pours himself one, sitting down and 
leaning back in his desk chair with a sigh.  "Ah, academia.  The last 
bastion of crackpots and idealists."

Skinner looks around the cluttered office as they sip their coffee.  
Though the pictures and charts are different, it reminds him of the 
office Mulder used to occupy in the Hoover Building.

"Do you miss it?"  Skinner asks Mulder suddenly.

"Miss the FBI?" Mulder appears to give it a few moments' 
thought.  "Miss the bureaucracy, the politics, the gossip, rumors, 
backbiting?  Not really."  He takes a sip of his coffee.  "Why, is 
Kersh asking for me?"

Skinner almost chokes on his coffee.  "You know the answer to that 
one," he says.

"Oh yeah," Mulder says.  "Anyway, anything I had at the FBI, on the 
aforementioned list, I've got here.  Minus Alvin Kersh, of course."

"Well, I suppose you can't have everything," Skinner assents.  "So 
you're saying higher education is a shark-infested pool?"

"Pretty much," Mulder says.  "I'm just as good at pissing people off 
here as I ever was at the FBI.  The difference being, here I'm a 
popular professor, which translates into dollars for the school, 
which cuts me some slack.  Wish I'd had that knack at the FBI."  He 
looks at his watch.  "We'd better head over to the lecture hall.  
Thanks again for coming today."

"Thanks for asking me,"  Skinner replies.  He picks up his briefcase 
and follows Mulder out of the office.

Skinner doesn't want to admit it, but he's a little nervous to be 
talking in front of these students.  Mulder told him it was a survey 
class, and one of his most popular, but what do these students care 
about the history of criminal psychological profiling at the FBI?  
Especially from him.  He feels out of his element and conspicuous in 
his suit and tie.  He hasn't seen one person wearing anything more 
businesslike than a sportcoat and an Oxford shirt.

Mulder, on the other hand, is clearly in his element.  The 
amphitheater style lecture hall is crammed with students, all of whom 
appear to be talking at once.  As Mulder approaches the front of the 
room, however, the noise level sinks almost instantly to a low 
murmur.  He looks so at ease in front of the crowd.  He works them 
like an opening act, and they pay him the compliment of silence as he 
speaks.  Especially, Skinner notices, the row of pretty young women 
in the front row.  He recognizes Kelli as one of them.  Mulder has 
groupies, Skinner realizes with amazement.

Mulder finishes his introduction of Skinner with a flourish and leads 
the smattering of polite applause as Skinner takes the podium.

The applause is stronger as he finishes the formal part of his 
lecture and opens the floor to Q and A.  After a slow start, Skinner 
is gratified by the well-thought-out questions some of the students 
ask.  He hopes they're not plants, put there by Mulder to avoid 
embarrassing silences.  Despite his initial nervousness, he is 
finding this an enjoyable experience after all.  The time passes very 
quickly and before he knows it, the class is over.

"You're a natural at this, Skinman," Mulder compliments him as the 
students file out.  One or two approach to shake Skinner's hand or to 
ask another question, among them Kelli, who unaccountably looks at 
Skinner the same way she looked at Mulder earlier that morning.  
Skinner feels half-embarrassed, half-flattered.

Mulder has noticed, too.  He leans in to Skinner as Kelli leaves the 
room.  "Smart is sexy," he murmurs.

At last the hall has cleared out and Mulder looks at his watch 
again.  "Scully should be here any minute,"  he says.  "She was going 
to try and catch your lecture, but Will doesn't always cooperate."

They stand outside the hall and enjoy the mild air, watching the 
students hurry past.  Skinner can't stand it any more, and he turns 
to Mulder.  

"Mulder, you know you could have delivered that lecture as well as 
me -- better, in fact, given your experience," Skinner says.  "Did 
you have another reason for asking me to come today?"

"To be honest with you, yes," Mulder says surprisingly.  No blank 
looks or beating about the bush for once.  "I've been gone from the 
FBI for almost a year now.  Scully's been back at Quantico for about 
six months.  Yet she tells me that she never sees you, hardly ever 
hears from you.  She misses you."  He waits a beat before 
continuing.  "To be honest, the only thing I miss about the FBI, 
other than working with Scully, is pissing you off regularly.  So I 
thought I'd give it a shot."

"Give what a shot, Mulder?"  Skinner hopes it's not asking him to get 
reinstated at the FBI.

Mulder looks uncomfortable and a little embarrassed.  "It was 
Scully's idea, but we both ... just ... well, we wanted you to know 
that we both consider you a good friend, and we didn't want you to 
drift away."  

Skinner is completely blindsided by this admission, and is utterly 
speechless.

Mulder grins again.  "Sounds pretty juvenile, doesn't it?  I shoulda 
let Scully try to explain it at lunch.  She's better at this stuff 
than I'll ever be."

Skinner finally finds his voice.  "It's an honor to be considered 
your friend, Mulder," he says very quietly, not looking directly at 
Mulder.

He glances over and sees that Mulder is looking ahead, not at 
him.  "The honor is mine, Sir," he returns softly.  "And Scully's."  
His voice takes on a normal tone.  "Speaking of which, there she is, 
with the Babe Magnet."

Sure enough, he sees Scully less than fifty yards away, pushing a 
baby stroller.  Mulder's description of Will is apt; several young 
women say hello to Scully and lean down to talk to Will, which is 
probably why she's a little late.

She's not a moment too soon, Skinner thinks.  Any more of this, and 
I'll start blubbering.  Or Mulder will. I don't know which would be 
more frightening.

Mulder has stepped forward to greet Scully.  He leans into her, just 
the way he always has, but now he kisses her instead of just looking 
like he wishes he could.  It's no little peck, either.  Skinner still 
can't get used to public displays of affection between these two.  It 
feels like spying.  At least, that's what he attributes his 
uncomfortable feeling to.

Mulder leans down to say hello to his son and Scully greets 
Skinner.  "I'm glad you could join us for lunch, Sir," she says with 
a smile.  That's another thing he has trouble getting used to.  
Scully smiling just because.  And smiling at him, no less.

"Don't you think it's time you called me Walter?" he says gruffly to 
her.  "Both of you?"

Mulder looks up from Will.  "He figured it out, Scully.  And he 
didn't kick my ass."

Scully rolls her eyes.  "Mulder, if that's Will's first word--"

Mulder looks up at her, devils in his eyes.  "Nag, nag, nag.  Next 
you'll be telling me to stop drinking out of the carton."

"Mul-der!"  Scully looks exasperated.

Mulder starts to stand up.  "Come on, Scully, we'll be late for 
lunch, and you know they won't hold the reservation."

Skinner holds his hand out to help Mulder out of his crouch beside 
the stroller.  "Thanks, Walter," he says easily, as though he's been 
saying it for years.

"My pleasure," Skinner says.  He walks alongside Dana as Mulder 
pushes the stroller along on her other side.  He feels happier than 
he has for some time. 

"Hey Walter," Mulder says casually as they arrive at the car.  He 
notices that it's a good-sized SUV, with the required baby seat in 
the back.  "Have you ever given any thought to retiring from the FBI 
and maybe teaching?"

Skinner smiles.  "Think you're willing to take the chance, Mulder?"

"Chance of what?"  Mulder asks.

"That I'll become department head, and you'll have to answer to me 
again," Skinner says.

"What if I make department head first, and you have to answer to 
me?"  Mulder says, and all three of them laugh at this.

"Yeah, that'll happen," Scully says.  

"Ouch, Scully," Mulder laughs.  "Not in front of the baby.  What will 
he think of me?  Wait, don't answer."

Will is looking up at them both, wide-eyed, a big grin on his face.  
He must be used to this by now.

Skinner folds himself into the back seat with Will, content to sit 
with him and listen to Mulder and Scully (which is how he will always 
privately think of them) trade quips.

Skinner looks down at Will and back at his two former favorite 
agents.  Oh yeah, I've missed this, he thinks.  Maybe I *should* 
consider a career change.  Now *there's* an extreme possibility.

end.

Yes, that's really it!  But who knows what the future might hold?

feedback is always welcome: msnsc21@aol.com