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Sam met Skinner at the door with an unapologetic hug, beating Betsy there by a few feet, who threw her arms around his legs once she arrived, “Mr. Skimmer! I missed you!”
First giving Sam a good, hearty squeeze around the shoulders, he then picked Betsy up, “I missed you, too. Taking care of your aunts and uncle okay?”
“Yup. I cooked the corn for dinner.”
Setting her back down, “then I will have to have a very large spoonful.” He looked over their heads to find Scully standing against the wall, “how’s Aunt Dana doing?”
Scully dropped her head, wearily allowing her gaze to skirt the floor, guilt at unshared knowledge weighing heavily before she met his stare, nodding slowly, “tired but standing for now.”
“Can’t ask for more than that.” He saw something else but filed it away for the moment, “when do you have to go back?”
“Later tonight. You?”
“I shouldn’t even be here but Mulder ordered me to dinner in no uncertain terms.”
Sharing an upturned corner of her mouth in his direction, “he does that but I think I’ll keep him anyway.”
Skinner returned his own pathetic attempt at a smile before looking down at the little crowd gathered ‘round his legs, “and how are all of you?”
Scully left them to their Mr. Skimmer conversations while she moved to the kitchen, taking the handful of forks from Mulder as he walked by with them, “I can’t do it tonight, Mulder. He already looks like he’s had the hell beaten out of him. I can’t add to that.”
Surrendering the silverware, he snagged the edge of her shirt, pulling her to a stop in front of him, “he would rather hear it from you than in some report listing names and heights and next of kin, believe me.”
She knew he was right but lack of sleep and sheer tonnage of stress had her emotions all over the map. Praying she’d be able to slap on her detached medical persona when necessary, she set the table, wondering if she should tell him before or after dinner.
Skinner chose for her, coming into the kitchen a few minutes later, acknowledging Mulder then sitting down in a pulled-out chair, “I asked the kids to stay in the living room for a minute because,” staring square at Scully, who knew what was coming, “I need to know who you’ve identified. I haven’t seen the list yet and I didn’t want to until I talked to you. There have been plenty of names floating around but I wanted to ask you first.” With a nod, she moved closer, settling herself against the kitchen island, wanting the support against her back instead of surrendering to a chair, prone and below the stare of her boss and friend. “Was Kimberly on that list?”
Before she could hesitate and flinch, she dipped her head, her quiet ‘yes’ reaching him across the kitchen.
Skinner shut his eyes momentarily, “was she outside or in the building?”
Please, for the love of God, let her keep it professional, “parking garage. She seemed to be roughly 10 feet from the bomb. She was pulled out from under one of the collapsed columns on the second floor.”
One accepting head shake later, he removed his glasses, pinched the bridge of his nose, met his agent’s concerned stare, replaced the spectacles, “can I tell her family she died instantly?”
Realizing she had to be completely honest, “there was carbon and concrete dust in her lungs and some gravel size pieces in her stomach and windpipe. She was alive for at least a few minutes after it happened.”
Skinner’s face hardened for a fraction, then quieted again, “but can I tell her family she died instantly?”
The desperation to spare his secretary’s loved ones moved her forward, leaned her over, shifted her arms around his shoulders to hug him, comfort this hulking Marine at a time when he looked smaller than she ever imagined possible. He accepted the contact for a short span, then, “I will call them after dinner,” as he pulled back and reorganized his world, boss mode settling in a muscle twitch later.
Scully backed off, returning to the counter, “are you allowed to officially talk to them?”
“I don’t really give a damn about official. She was one of five children, her parents live in Arlington and none of them have slept since it happened. I’ve been in contact with them already and they deserve to know as soon as possible.”
She wasn’t arguing his plan and he knew it but he apologized immediately for sounding harsh; Scully responding with an understanding nod, “it’s okay. I’d want to know as well.”
Just then, Jake walked back into the kitchen, cradling his hand, no tears but wavering voice as he asked, “can somebody get me a Band-Aid, please?”
Five stitches later courtesy of Aunt Dana, they sat down to dinner, Skinner settled between Betsy and Toby, helping cut meat and spoon gravy and butter bread, doing those uncle things he had never done before and realized he kind of enjoyed.
Mr. Skimmer was hooked for life, much like the rest of them.
&&&&&&&&&&
The phone call was difficult to say the least but sooner than later, Skinner re-emerged from the front porch where he’d chosen to deliver his harsh news, eyes dry but strained and Scully, recognizing bottomless empathy and grief, hesitantly tagged his sleeve as he walked by, “how about some coffee, Walter, maybe a donut before we head back to work?”
And there was a glimmer of life in him again, “just, would you please not call me Walter at work? Can you do that … Dana?” He squinched his large face, forehead wrinkling in mild confusion, “forget I said that. You’re Scully,” indicating a hand in Mulder’s direction, “he’s Mulder,” and pointing to himself, “and I’m just going to answer to whatever you call me at this point.” The crowd chuckled collectively, Toby and Betsy having no idea why but figured ‘what the hell, everyone else is laughing, so will I’. Skinner smiled finally, “yes, I would like some coffee and a donut, please, if you have some to spare.”
Scully returned a minute later from the kitchen, “here you go, upgraded Uncle Skimmer, one coffee and one chocolate donut.”
And so emerged ‘Uncle Skimmer’, the tallest, scariest, most cuddly Uncle aside from Uncle Mudler they’d ever know.
With carefree, round, blue eyes, Betsy looked up at Skinner, ‘I won’t take no for an answer’ gleam holding him steady, “gonna come to dinner on Sunday, Uncle Skimmer? Aunt Maggie says everyone always needs to come to Sunday dinner and once you’ve had dinner here, you’re always welcome back so if you come once, you have to come all the time and you ate with us tonight so you have to come on Sunday.”
God love little person logic.
Betsy sat next to him from that day forward, every Sunday dinner and every holiday, every pot luck, graduation party, wedding and christening for decades to come.
Neither would have it any other way.