Title: Eight Days A Week –WPF pt. 13

Author: Batela

Rating: PG

Summary: It’s almost time for school and Skinner is counting the
minutes just like every other parent in the country.

e-mail: batela@angelfire.com

URL: http://www.angelfire.com/mb/wsjournal/index.html

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

Monday

"You boys be good for Natti," Uncle Walter said, ruffling hair and
flickering at cheeks as he left for work.

"Yes, Uncle Walter," the boys chorused.

The sound of the door closing was still in the air when the boys
raced upstairs to get dressed. After begging permission to go outside
and play, with a promise to do some learning after their nap, the
boys were out the door in a flash. It was 8am and daylight was
wasting!

There was a moving van down the street, so the boys went to
investigate. One lone child, a girl, stood off to the side as the
movers carried furniture into the house.

"Hi," Adam announced them. The girl turned, startled. She was about
his own age.

"Hello," she said shyly. Her mother came over to check on her
daughter.

"Well, aren’t you three a cute welcoming committee," the lady said,
smiling pleasantly at the boys. "What are your names?"

"I’m Adam, these are my brothers, sort of; Pavel and Ivan," Adam
said.

"Sort of? What do you mean?"

"We live together with my dad and Uncle. Their father and my father
are brothers," Adam tried to explain. The lady nodded with a funny
kind of smile.

"I see. But doesn’t that mean Pavel and Ivan are your cousins?"

That was such a revelation to the boys that they could only stare
at the lady in shock. The lady laughed and patted Adam on the head.

"I’m Mrs. White, this is my daughter, Jennifer."

The children shyly said hi to each other.

"That’s funny," Pavel said with a giggle. "Your name is White but
you’re black." Mrs. White laughed and flicked his cheek with a finger.

"Where do you boys live?" Mrs. White asked. They pointed to their
house down the street.

"Isn’t that the sheriff’s house?" she asked. The boys nodded.

"Uncle Walter is the sheriff," Adam said.

"I see. Is Uncle Walter your father?" she asked the twins. The
shook their heads.

"Uncle Walter is Uncle Walter, Alex is our father," Pavel said. The
lady looked confused.

"Then.. who is your father’s brother?" she asked Adam.

"Uncle Alex is."

"Who is Uncle Walter, then?"

"My dad’s boyfriend."

"But they got married, didn’t they?" Ivan asked.

"Yeah, but Uncle Walter can’t be a wife, he isn’t a girl," Adam
argued.

"So what is he?" Pavel asked. Adam thought about it and shrugged.

"I don’t know, just a boyfriend, I guess. I don’t think they can
both be husbands."

The lady gave up trying to understand.

"Can your little girl come and play with us?" Adam asked. Mrs.
White turned to her daughter.

"Would you like to go and play with these boys?" she asked.
Jennifer nodded shyly.

"Don’t go far," Mrs. White warned them.

"We won’t. Uncle Walter makes us stay in the neighborhood," Adam
informed her.

The boys turned back toward their house with Jennifer in tow.

"Let’s go tell Uncle Walter about being cousins," he suggested to
the twins. They agreed. They ran to the station and crowded through
the door.

"Hi, Becky!" they yelled, waving to her. She smiled at them and
waved back. The boys liked Becky, she was nice. She always gave them
pieces of candy that she kept on her desk. The boys had bigger fish
to fry at the moment, though, so they ran to Uncle Walter’s office,
making a lot of noise on the floor.

"Uncle Walter!" they yelled.

"What are you boys up to?" Uncle Walter asked. The boys liked Uncle
Walter, he hardly ever yelled at them whenever they did something
wrong and he always took time to answer questions.

"Guess what? This is Jennifer and her mother said that me and Pavel
and Ivan aren’t brothers, we’re cousins!" Adam announced excitedly.
Uncle Walter’s mouth hung open for a moment. The boys were happy that
they were able to surprise him.

"That never occurred to me," he said, flabbergasted.

Uncle Walter said hello to Jennifer and the boys ran back out,
calling to their new friend to follow them.

The boys and Jennifer went around the neighborhood to see if there
were any treasures in the dumpster piles before the truck came the
next day and took everything away. People threw away the best stuff!
The struck a gold mine at the Carlisle’s. The Carlisle’s put in a new
rug recently and the boys were ecstatic to find a length of discarded
brand new rug. They dragged it back to their house.

At the end of the porch was a panel that covered the underside of
it. Adam pulled it off and crawled in, dragging the rug in with him.
The other children hurried in and began to move their treasures out
of the way so that Adam could set the rug into place. The underside
of the porch was cool and musty smelling, with a few cobwebs hanging
in the corners.

The rug was slightly too long and hung out the small entrance.

"Go get me something to cut it with," he told the twins. After some
pushing and shoving, Ivan was sent to get something. He ran back in
moments later with a large butcher knife. Adam took it happily and
began sawing away at the end of the rug.

"Who’s that?" Jennifer asked, looking at the pictures and posters
decorating the roof and walls. Pavel took a tin out of a box of
treasures and distributed cookies.

"That’s our Aunt Dana," he said, looking to where she was pointing.
"Isn’t she pretty? She’s Uncle Fox’s friend and his boss. She’s
really smart, she’s a doctor."

Jennifer was impressed and made the appropriate noises. "Are any of
these pictures of your parents?" she asked. Pavel looked around and
pointed to one, while Ivan rooted around in the box.

"That’s our father, Alex. He likes us to call him Alex, not Daddy.
He’s a secret agent. Shhhh! Don’t tell," he warned her. Jennifer
nodded, wide-eyed in awe. "And that one over there is Uncle Fox, he’s
Adam’s Dad."

Ivan pulled out a small binder and opened it.

"Here, this is what our mother looked like. She died a long time
ago all the way across the world in Russia." Ivan turned the book for
her to see.

"Wow, that’s really far away," Jennifer commented. "I went to visit
my grandmother in South Carolina, that’s far away, too."

"Done!" Adam said triumphantly. He tossed the knife out the door
and onto the grass. The edge of the rug was a little crooked but he
was happy with it. Ivan put the book away and they got down to
business.

"Where do we want to look today?" Adam asked the boys.

"Look for what?" Jennifer asked.

"For ghosts. We’re ghost hunters," he said importantly. The twins
nodded in agreement.

"Oh," Jennifer said with rounded eyes. "But it’s daytime. How can
you see ghosts in the day time?" she asked.

"My dad has seen ghosts during the day," Adam said nonchalantly.
Jennifer’s eyes became wider. "He’s a ghost hunter, too, at the FBI."

"How about Mr. Jenkins’ barn?" Ivan suggested.

"Or behind the grocery store?" Pavel put in.

"How about the cemetery?" Jennifer said. The boys stopped their
debate and stared at her in awe.

The children were off to the cemetery. They used the back alleys
behind the houses to sneak up on any unsuspecting ghosts and spirits
that may be lurking in the graveyard behind Reverend Johnson’s
church. Adam carried a salt shaker, Pavel a cross and Ivan an empty
jar with a lid to hold the menace. They didn’t let Jennifer carry
anything because she was a girl. Girls must be weak because Uncle
Walter always helps Natti carry in the groceries. Jennifer informed
them that that was a stupid reason. It’s just polite to help, and she
should know, since she’s 8 years old and older than them. The boys
conceded to her reasoning but they still had nothing for her to
carry. Adam felt guilty so he let her carry his salt shaker.

The cemetery was quiet with a strange feeling in it. The children
stopped at the edge, suddenly unsure of their mission. The boys were
positive that they would step on someone and have a ghost visit them
at night. Everyone knew that night-time ghosts were worse than day-
time ghosts.

"Oh, come on," Jennifer said impatiently and stepped into the yard.
Suddenly a door opened at the house next door and a white shape
appeared! It was pale white with wild hair and a large pot belly!
Funny straps held white socks to its knees. It wore white boxers! It
belched and farted loudly and hacked up a goober, spitting into the
grass. The children ran from the yard, away from the scariest sight
they had ever seen -the Reverend in his boxers.

Tuesday

"What do you think caused Ivan’s nightmare?" Mulder asked over the
morning newspaper. Skinner rinsed his cup in the sink.

"I don’t know. It was strange, though; while you were in the
shower, he asked if we would get rid of all the white underwear in
the house and buy different colors, like Alex’s."

Mulder tried to decipher that but decided that he just didn’t have
enough information. He shook his head and went back to his paper. In
the middle of the night, Ivan knocked on their door. He was shaking
as he held out his arms. Skinner picked him up and carried him to
their bed where Ivan snuggled down happily between his uncles and
fell asleep.

"That’s it," Mulder snapped his fingers. "Those tighty-whities of
yours scared him." The dishcloth sailed over the paper and smacked
Mulder in the face.

Wednesday

Another moving van arrived into town. Skinner resisted the urge to
call Emilia and ask her if she took an ad out in the NY Times. He
followed the van, curious. It stopped across town at an older home
that had been vacant for quite a few years. The driver got out.

"Dominic?!" Skinner was shocked to see his cousin emerge. Dom
raised a hand in greeting.

"Afternoon, Walter." Dom shook Skinner’s hand with one hand and
shook his shoulder with the other.

"What are you doing?"

"Walter, get your glasses checked; I’m moving in."

Skinner looked from the truck to the old house, almost Victorian by
local standards. It was a dinosaur next to the neighbors’ houses,
with three stories, pointed steeples at the very top. One of those
houses that every neighborhood seemed to have, the one with rumors
and stories, ghosts.

"I.. why didn’t you tell me? This old place? Isn’t it a little big
for just you?" Skinner asked.

"For just me, yes. I’m going to fix it up. I’ll only live on the
top two floors. The Church bought it. I got permission to fix it up
and round up the Flock in the area. Of course, my telling them that
the town was filled with sinning homosexuals and heathens all bent on
subverting the few remaining sons and daughters loyal to the Church
may have helped make their decision." Dom grinned evilly. "The bottom
of the house will be the chapel, rectory and classrooms for
Catechism."

Skinner laughed and clapped Dom on the shoulder. "I knew there was
a devil behind that collar," he said.

"Come on inside," Dom invited him. Curious to see it, Skinner nodded.

The prerequisite dust and sheets covered everything, cobwebs
decorated the corners. The door creaked open, the daylight blasting
insistently into the old gloom.

"It needs some repairs, no doubt about that, but look at this." Dom
took a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped dust from the railing
of the winding staircase. Deep, rich, cherry wood suddenly shone
through.

"It’s all cherry wood, Walter," Dom said in awe. "Someone went to a
lot of trouble with this place. This must have been a mansion in its
time. The realtor had no history on it, just that the last owners
died and no descendants were found. For one reason or another, no one
who bought it ever stayed long.

"There are some roof leaks, the pipes and wiring need to be
replaced. It needs a good scrubbing. Get in furniture, have the altar
and paraphernalia brought in, get the building sanctified, and we’re
in business." Dom rubbed his hands in glee.

"That’s just a little too commercialized for me, Dom," Skinner
said. Dominic waved his hand.

"Just a figure of speech. Look." He drew a few sheets away from
furniture. A love seat and couch with turn of the century patterns.
"This quality isn’t made anymore. When people build furniture, it
used to last for centuries; not anymore. This is going upstairs. No
rug-rats will be climbing all over it. Except yours."

"Thanks," Skinner said wryly. Dom sat on the couch, running his
hand lovingly over the fabric and tooled backing.

"So, Walter. Will you be joining us for Worship and Communion?" Dom
suddenly asked in his gently curious ‘Priest’ voice. Skinner knew his
time had run out. "Come on, sit down. Consider this my first official
Confession for the new parish." Dom patted the couch in invitation.
Skinner reluctantly dropped onto the opposite side of the couch. He
found that he couldn’t look at Dominic so he took an interest in the
fabric.

"I... I can’t, Dom."

"Of course you can, say what you mean –you won’t. Will you tell me
why?"

He took his time formulating a response. It had been a long time,
he had gone through so many changes after so many things that
happened to him.

"I no longer believe in the God of my childhood," he said. Dom
sighed and lowered his head for a moment.

"Is this due to recent events?" Dom asked.

"Are you speaking of the alien stuff?" Dom nodded. "No, not
completely. I think it was Viet Nam that started it. I died, Dom, and
it was no heavenly visitor that brought me back, I saw no white
light."

Skinner told Dominic of his Visitation, of being exposed to other
religions of the world for the first time and learning that the
universe did not revolve around the Catholic Church and that there
were millions of people all over the world that could care less if
the Pope had a sniffle. People lived and died for thousands of years
without ever having heard about Jesus, except as a curiosity of the
big-eyed Westerners. He had seen the belief that people had in
Buddha, Kwan Yen, Krishna, Kali Ma, the entire Hindu pantheon. People
believed just as strongly in their own culture’s gods as the
Westerners did in the Christian God, and for a longer period of time.
He had seen missionaries decimate entire cultures, thousands and
thousands of years of history, gone within a few short years. People
killed outright for not bowing to the God of peace and love. He had
seen far too much to return to his childhood.

He had seen the old lady, she was real.

"I have seen too many things, Dom, too many so-called miracles,
explained away with science, too many things that are supposed to be
impossible that are actually real. You laughed at Mulder’s story
about Tooms, the guy who could elongate himself? My first case with
Mulder and Scully? Mulder wasn’t telling a whopper, Dom, he told it
like it happened. Werewolves, vampires, haunted houses, ghosts, a
hill that eats hikers, sentient trees, all real. 99 percent of what
Mulder and Scully have been through, I can’t tell you about. Scully
clings to the last shred of her faith, more out of habit, I think,
but she no longer discounts others. I don’t think Mulder ever
actually believed in anything." He wasn’t even going to mention any
of the more sensitive issues, the grays and rebels, clones bleeding
green acid, hybrids, genetic engineering...

"But, Walter, don’t you see? That’s what faith is all about. We
have the faith to believe that God has chosen not to inform His
children of all His little side projects. It isn’t our business, so
He didn’t tell us. There is no reason that God could not have
engineered all those things."

Skinner had heard that argument before.

"It comes down to one simple fact, Dom; I don’t believe. I won’t be
pushed on this issue, Dom," Skinner warned him. "Believe me, I’m more
comfortable with what Emilia has to say, than anything you can preach
at me. Me, as I am, or not at all. And that goes for the rest of the
family, too. I don’t want to lose everyone again, but I will if I
have to. I don’t need anyone’s permission to live my life."

Dom bowed his head, thinking. Skinner knew that Dominic was
disappointed, but he spoke his heart, his own truth.

"I’ll be honest, Walter, there are a few of the family that are
very vocal in their disapproval, no matter what Mamma says. Most of
them are old-timers, traditional. A few of the younger conservative
ones. Marc told me about his ‘experience’ recently; I knew he was
gay, I’ve discussed it with him, the Church’s point of view on the
subject, tried to council him. He’s set in his ‘ways’. The family now
knows about him. He’s been pretty much ostracized from most family
get-togethers. Some started to blame you for it, but Marc, Carlo,
Mamma and me, a few others, have been quite vocal in your defense.
The family is pretty split on the whole subject.

"The fact that you no longer consider yourself Catholic, much less
a Christian, isn’t going to help. Now, most of the cousins haven’t
met you, it’s easy to dismiss a stranger. Those of us that have met
you, will stand by you, whether we approve or not." Dom chuckled,
"Even Mario threw a punch at Angelo in your defense. You’re right, my
brothers are bullies, but we love you, Walter."

Dom took Skinner’s hand between both of his.

"I can’t stop being a Priest, Walter, it’s who I am. I love God,
He’s a part of me. I won’t preach to you, but I won’t stop praying
for you and your return to God and the Church. I’ll also be here for
you whenever you need to talk. About anything -cousin, buddy, Priest.
Is that fair?"

Skinner nodded, feeling a weight lifting from his shoulders and his
chest. Dom released his hand and took his face, giving his cheek a
kiss.

"Go back to work, Walter. God be with you."

"And also with you," Skinner automatically gave the response. "Will
you come to dinner?"

Dom gave a nod. "Yes, thank you."



Thursday

Reminder list:
	1. Make sure the door is locked, set alarm early, and jump Mulder.
	2. Interrogate the children and find out what needs to be fixed
from their being let loose on the world day before.
	3. Check over school work.
	4. Go to work.
	5. Find out more about that new little girl that Adam’s been making
goo-goo eyes at. Make sure that’s all Adam’s been doing. Kids are
starting out earlier now-days, thanks to proper nutrition and
hormones in the milk and food. He’s going to be 8 soon. You kissed a
girl at 8, Skinner, remember that?
	6. Buy more underwear. Colors, this time. Ivan’s refusing to wear
his whites and the other two are on a solidarity strike.
	7. Go back to work.
	8. Find out why there is a rug sticking out from under the porch.
	9. Take the cats to the vet and make Pavel understand why no balls
is a good thing.
	10. Have lunch.
	11. Go back to work.

Friday

It rained, so the boys spent the day inside, tormenting Natti with
‘movie’ day. They insisted on popcorn and all the lights turned off
and movies on the big TV in lieu of a proper theatre.

John, the contractor stopped by at Mulder’s request and took a look
at the attic. He wrote out a list of ‘to do’s’ and an estimate.
Skinner was surprised, it wasn’t nearly as bad as he thought it was
going to be. John shrugged, he was going to do it on the side, give
his two oldest kids some experience. Skinner agreed.

Saturday

It was Ruvin’s turn for weekend duty, and Mulder was doing overtime
at work on a tough case, so Skinner took the boys into town for
school clothes. He was finding himself grateful that school started
in two weeks. It wouldn’t have occurred to him that they needed
clothes until Natti held up a pair of jeans to Adam and announced
that a clothes buying trip was in order for the near future.

"But those are new jeans!" Skinner protested, looking at the space
between the cuff and Adam’s ankle. Natti gave a knowing chuckle.

"Here’s a secret; children grow very fast. I’d say box up the jeans
that are still good and save them for Pavel and Ivan, but Adam has
his father’s lanky build. The twins have Alex’s compact structure so
the jeans probably won’t fit. Too narrow. I’ll cut them down into
shorts." She found a scrap piece of paper and began to make a list,
and then handed it to Skinner.

"This is what they need. Go to this store to get everything."
Skinner noted that she wrote down a store name and cross streets.

"And Walter? There’s a word that you should remember and try to use
almost every day." Skinner looked at her expectantly. "It’s very
easy, it goes like this... no."

Skinner waved her off, he had plenty of willpower against the boys.

Five hours later, with a van full of clothes and several toys that
they couldn’t do without, Skinner took the boys to see Uncle Fox at
work. He called first to make sure Mulder could see them. Mulder ok’d
the field trip to the JEH on the condition that Skinner bring an
entry fee of 18 whoppers for his hungry agents.

The guard smiled indulgently at the thrilled boys as he pinned
visitor’s badges to their shirts. He shook Skinner’s hand, welcoming
him back into the building. The boys cranked their heads almost
complete 360s, trying to take in the entrance hall. Skinner knew the
way, so he herded the boys into the elevator to go upstairs.

"There’s Uncle Fox!" Pavel yelled, seeing Mulder through the glass
partition just a couple of yards past the elevators. Skinner shushed
Pavel.

"Think of this as a library, Pavel; we don’t yell here."

Several over-worked assistants smiled at the boys and their
exuberance. A few that Skinner remembered greeted him; fondly, he was
pleased to note. Unless Mulder’s been telling stories, he suddenly
thought with a flush.

The boys rushed into the bull pen where Mulder and six others were
holding court around a stack of papers and a working board covered in
photos. He was introducing the boys to the others when Skinner got
into the room, loaded down with fragrant bags. The men reached
eagerly for the bags, thanking Skinner. They were convinced that
their lord and master wasn’t going to let them eat until they solved
the case. Mulder hmphed with his nose in the air.

The boys wandered around the office, absently acknowledging
Skinner’s "Don’t touch anything!".

"Hey, look who got haircuts!"

"Hi, Aunt Dana!" the boys shouted as they rushed her. Mulder shot
Skinner an apologetic look, not noticing the haircuts.

The boys settled down and continued their exploring while Skinner
looked over the gathered information, listening to the agents talk.
He missed it, he admitted it, but he also knew that his stomach
stopped hurting, his headaches almost completely disappeared, and he
no longer dreaded coming in to work in the mornings. The current
problem involved a serial murderer in the Cleveland area.

"Adam, come away from there," Mulder said. Adam had wandered over
to the board, looking at the pictures. Skinner took a rapid look over
them; they were all close-ups of cuts on the backs of the victims,
nothing overly graphic. There were no full body shots or blood
splatters, just cleaned up morgue pictures. They’ve seen worse on TV.

"Are they puzzles?"

"Uh, yeah, come over here."

"This one looks like a deh."

Skinner wasn’t the only one to look at Adam with a wrinkled nose.

"A what?" Mulder asked. Pavel went to Adam’s side and looked. He
nodded.

"It does look like a deh," the boy said in agreement. Everyone
walked over to the board. "Upside down, though."

"What are you two talking about?" Skinner asked them. "What is a
deh?"

"It’s a letter in Russian," Adam said. He had been taking language
lessons along with the twins. Mulder found a dry-erase marker and
handed it to Adam.

"Draw me a deh," he asked his son. Adam drew a square on the board,
the bottom slightly broader than the top, and attached an extra leg
on the two bottom corners. Skinner thought it looked like a strange
bell. They all compared it to the cuts on one of the pictures. Mulder
untapped the photo and reversed it to match Adam’s letter.

"A little impressionistic, but, ok. What about these others? Do you
see any other letters in them?" he asked the two boys. Skinner looked
around, Ivan was falling asleep in a chair.

"He’s fine," Scully assured Skinner.

"That one," Pavel pointed to the top of the board. "It looks like a
ell."

"You mean like this ‘L’?" Mulder asked, pointing to a letter in a
word. Pavel and Adam shook their heads.

"No, a ell," Pavel insisted. He took the marker and drew on the
board. Almost a square, but missing the bottom connecting line, the
end of the left side was kicked out almost like a ‘J’. Mulder took
the picture down and re-tapped it to match Pavel’s letter.

One by one, the boys identified all six pictures with a Russian
letter mixed in among the cut marks. Skinner could see the excitement
in Mulder’s face and knew that his bells were ringing. Mulder pointed
to the series of letters that the boys had written.

"Is this a word that you know?" The boys shook their heads.

"Scully, any Russian speakers in today?" he asked. Scully thought
for a moment.

"Not that I’m aware of."

Mulder took out his cell phone and dialed. Skinner knew the tones
without having to look at the numbers.

"Hey. Russian letters. Deh, ell, myarkhi znark, ... stop laughing
at my pronunciation... shah, or, ah. Word, acronym?" Mulder took the
marker and wrote numbers under the letters. "Lorshut? Which means...?
Shit! Thanks." He closed the phone. He rearranged the photos
according to the numbers.

"What’s it say, Daddy?" Adam asked. Mulder looked at Skinner.

"It just says ‘horse’." Mulder knelt down and hugged the boys
tightly. "But you know what? You both were a very big help. We can
catch a very bad man because you helped us. Uncle Walter, hot fudge
sundaes for dinner."

The boys cheered, their faces pinked from pride. Skinner picked up
Ivan and got the other two rounded up to go home. He knew about The
Horse. A man they’ve spent years searching for. At every crime scene,
his name could be found, spelled out in one language or another.
Painted on the walls, business cards, children’s alphabet cards, one
letter per victim, as many as needed to spell ‘horse’ in that
particular language. No one knew why the man used that name, some
have suggested that he’s a drug dealer, others more crudely suggest
that it’s a nickname referring to the size of his penis.

If this was any indication, Mulder might not be home for those
sundaes.

Sunday

"Boys, please! Even God rested for a day!"

Monday



"I don’t know, Uncle Walter hasn’t let us do anything all week,"
Pavel complained. They sat in their club-house, thinking up something
to do until lunch.

"How about survlalance?" Ivan suggested. Pavel and Adam thought
that was a good idea and rummaged around for their binoculars.

"Since we can’t play on the roof, how about the tree?" Pavel asked
them. It was agreed, the big oak tree out front was perfect.

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

Title: The Walls Come Down –WPF pt 14

Author: Batela

Rating: R ?

Summary: Krycek gets more than he bargained for when he returns
home. Skinner and Scully have a heart to heart. Skinner gets a new
deputy.

e-mail: batela@angelfire.com

URL: http://www.angelfire.com/mb/wsjournal/index.html

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

The pounding and stomping in the attic was driving everyone crazy,
so Natti took the boys to the park to play. Mulder was out of town on
a case, his ‘Horse’ had just shown up in Cincinnati, and so he and
his best agents were out trying to catch the bastard. Which left
Skinner to deal with the problem of trying to find a new deputy and
breaking in Ruvin as his assistant. A new session was about to start
at Quantico and Kyle was moving closer to the Academy. Skinner walked
into the station just in time to see Becky frowning in confusion over
a piece of paper.

"What’s that?" Skinner asked. Becky waved the paper.

"New applicant. Listen to this, name: K.C. Moynahan, age: over 21,
male/female: yes, place of birth: Earth, race: Human."

Skinner took the paper and looked it over. She wasn’t kidding, the
applicant actually wrote in those answers.

"Should I trash it, Sir?" she asked.

"No, call and set up an appointment. This person either has balls
of brass, or is a candidate for natural selection," he said. Becky
giggled.

"Yes, Sir."

Mulder was always telling him to follow his instincts, so Skinner
would give it a try. Something was telling him to meet this person.
The phone rang and Becky answered it.

"Sheriff’s office. Hello, Mrs. Plotsky." Skinner tried to sneak out
the door but Becky snapped her fingers. "I’ll tell him, yes, Ma’am."

Barking dog, can needs to be opened, cat in the tree, couch needs
to be moved...

"Cat in the tree," Becky announced. Skinner groaned.

"Is Ruvin and Joe still out on rounds?"

"At lunch."

He turned to leave, resigned. It was a small town, only a few
deputies could be supported, so the sheriff often found himself doing
odd jobs. Like getting Mrs. Plotsky’s cat out of the tree
approximately once a week. The cat was a small domestic short hair
which looked about 6 months old but Skinner was positive that it was
living all nine lives consecutively. He walked out the door and
immediately bumped into someone. A short someone.

"Pardon me," he said, steadying himself. A pair of brown eyes
twinkled up at him.

"Sorry," the woman said. "Are you Sheriff Skinner?"

Skinner nodded.

"Yes, Ma’am, can I help you?"

"KC Moynahan, Sir. I sent you an application, thought I’d follow up
on it with me." She shook his hand, her grip was firm, confident.
Skinner quickly looked over the slip of a woman.

"It just came in the mail about an hour ago," he said. "I haven’t
actually read it yet. Take a ride with me and we can talk."

KC shrugged agreeably.

"Sure."

Skinner showed her to the car and buckled himself in, waiting for
her. She finished at the same time he did, quick and efficient. He
began the drive to Mrs. Plotsky’s.

"Tell me, why did you fill in the statistics the way you did?" he
asked, his curiosity brimming.

"Because I didn’t feel that the information was pertinent as to my
qualifications for the job," came the immediate answer. Skinner
couldn’t argue with that one.

"I’ll be honest, Ms. Moynahan, this is a cowboy town. Most of these
men are still living in the middle ages and won’t take a female
deputy seriously."

"And yet they’ll accept a gay sheriff?" she countered.

"Point. But I had established myself before all that happened. What
experience do you have in law enforcement?" he asked.

"United States Army, Fort Bragg, Sargent. I’ve done a tour in
Kosovo, Sir," was all she said. It was all she needed to say. Skinner
had taken her for very young, about 22 or so. He looked closer and
saw some strands of gray, a few lines around her eyes and mouth. She
kept her age well.

"Why would you want to move to a small town? We’re an hour’s drive
from the city," he asked.

"Why did you?" she countered. "I want a little peace and quiet, I
think I’ve earned it," she said. Skinner could understand. He had
seen enough agents and vets with that 'I’ve had it’ look, to see it
on her face.

They stopped at the curb of a house where an elderly woman was
staring up into a tree and wringing her hands.

"I’ll tell you what, Moynahan, you get that demon-spawn out of that
tree, and I’ll give you a fair trial. Three months." Skinner pointed
to the tree. KC quirked an eyebrow and gave his hand a shake. She may
be short and slight, but Skinner was no fool; an experienced Army
sargent deserved a chance. He didn’t want to discriminate based on
her gender, but he needed a deputy that would be of use to him. If
the local ya-hoos were going to run all over her, she would not be of
use.

Mrs. Plotsky was one of those old-fashioned women who didn’t make a
move without asking her husband about it first. Unfortunately, her
husband had been dead for years, so Skinner could count on her to
call his office about once a week for something.

"Oh, Sheriff, thank you for coming. My baby is stuck in the tree
again," she said in a trembly voice. Skinner had tried to tell her
that if a cat can climb up the tree, it can climb down. She chose not
to hear him. Like a lot of elderly people, Mrs. Plotsky had selective
hearing.

He looked up and could see the little monster glaring down at him
balefully, daring him to come up. The last time Skinner went after
it, it growled, hissed and scratched the hell out of his arm. He had
to go to Doc Wilkins to have the scratches cleaned out. Mrs. Plotsky
apologized and said that Baby was just high-strung and scared.
Skinner was sure the cat was possessed. Maybe he should call Dom over.

KC stood under the tree and looked up at it.

"You! Down!" she snapped in a sargent’s voice that was completely
out of place in the small feminine body, pointing at the cat and then
at the ground. The cat’s ears went up in astonishment at the daring
of this human. "Move it, Misteerrr!"

The cat gave it some thought and decided to climb down. It jumped
to the ground and walked calmly back to it’s home, tail high in the
air. Mrs. Plotsky clapped her hands once and followed Baby into the
house.

Skinner held out his hand.

"You’re hired."

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

KC went back to her home to collect her things after making a deal
with Kyle to rent his house. Skinner had suggested to Kyle that
renting his house out, instead of selling it, would be the wiser
choice. If nothing else, it would pay for his alimony and child
support, and was a good tax write-off.

While Ruvin broke in the new trainee, Mulder came home a few days
later. The Horse was gone again. John and his two kids were done with
the attic, having rewired it, put in plumbing, insulation, reinforced
the floor and roof. New gypsum boards were quickly made into walls
after the inspector was out to give his blessing.

School had just started and the house was quiet. Skinner decided to
celebrate by giving Natti the day off and sending her into the city
for whatever she wanted to do, and he then spent the rest of the
morning demonstrating to Mulder how much he was missed. Skinner
rested on top of Mulder, catching his breath. He eased some of his
weight off by propping up on his elbows. Skinner stroked a finger
over Mulder’s face, finding a new line forming at the corner of an
eye. Mulder’s face was fuller than it was ten years ago. He ran his
hands through Mulder’s soft hair, seeing white strands beginning to
invade the browns.

"You’re getting your mother’s white hair," he commented. He pushed
the front of the hair back. "No signs of a retreat, though."

Mulder ran his hands over Skinner’s back and buttock.

"Jealous?" He snapped lightly at Skinner’s bottom lip. Skinner
ground their groins together.

"Not in the least. I don’t have to worry about shampoo or split
ends, or use that crap that Alex uses." He kissed Mulder lightly,
flicking his tongue out and kissing gently at Mulder’s lips, first
the top and then the bottom. He enjoyed just kissing Mulder, his
lover didn’t hold back, no matter what they did. Mulder surged up and
wrapped his legs around Skinner’s waist, opening his mouth for a
deeper kiss. It was an incredibly erotic feeling, their genitals
pressed against each other. Skinner could feel another round begin to
tingle in his groin.

"God, Walter, maybe I should go on away cases more often," Mulder
murmured as Skinner rocked gently against him.

"You turn me on, Fox, every part of you," Skinner admitted before
dipping his tongue into Mulder’s mouth. Mulder held Skinner in place,
one hand on the back of Skinner’s head. Mulder ran the other hand
down Skinner’s ass, finding the familiar play area and rubbing it.
Skinner moaned into Mulder’s mouth and spread his knees further apart
as Mulder inserted a finger, gently moving it in and out.

"My turn," Mulder whispered. Skinner had no argument with that.

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

The boys were restless after their first day back to school, so
Mulder decided he needed quality time with them after being gone on
his case so often recently. He took them into the city for a movie
and a round of miniature golf. Skinner took the time to finish the
painting on the attic. The cats had followed him up but took one
whiff of the paint fumes and quickly left with disgusted looks on
their faces. The men had let the boys help, but Skinner wasn’t sure
if they got more paint on the walls or themselves. He was humming a
few words under his breath along with the radio when a knock came at
the door.

"Hey."

"Scully, come on in."

Scully walked in and took a look around, poking into the bathroom
and kitchen.

"This is great! I wish my parents had a flat that I could have used
when I was a teenager."

"They would have trusted a teenager with a flat of his or her own?"
Skinner asked teasingly. Scully laughed.

"No, probably not. And don’t tease, you’re going to have a teenager
in five years, and three of them in eight. I’ll have to remember to
send a sympathy card –a moody Mulder and two teenage Kryceks in the
house."

Skinner winced. "That’s cruel, Scully. Besides, Fox and I have
already decided to turn the basement into a cage during ages 13 to
21. We’ll toss them raw meat and let them fight over it." Scully
laughed again.

"Where is Mulder?" she asked.

"He took the cubs into the city for some quality time. What’s on
your mind, Scully?"

"Do I need a reason to come out here?" she asked with an arched brow.

"Not at all, you’re welcome to hang out anytime. But I also know
how to spot an agent with a problem." Skinner set his brush down and
climbed off the ladder. He wiped his hands on a cloth as he looked at
Scully.

"I’m a good listener, Scully," he said gently. "I’d like to think
of us as friends."

Scully walked around slowly, looking out the door and the windows.

"We are friends. It’s just.. I’m having a bit of a personal
problem, guy problems. I’m used to talking things over with Mulder,
that’s all."

Skinner unfolded a clean drop cloth and spread it out on the floor,
sitting down on it.

"Well, first of all, I’m a guy. Second, I’m in a relationship with
a guy, both of which qualify me to expound on ‘guy’ issues; and
third, I’m fully aware that Fox has been telling tales outside the
bedroom into your ears and just to be fair, he’s been telling tales
into my ears, too."

Scully blushed and crossed her arms over her stomach, looking at
the floor.

"Since we both know far more about each other than most friends
know, telling me about your problem with Kyle can’t be as bad as
Fox’s X-rated bedtime stories. Come on, sit, Dr. Ruth is in." He
patted the space in front of him. After a moment, Scully sat.

"So. What has Kyle done? Or didn’t do?" he asked. He had never seen
Scully so flustered before, she was usually direct and to the point.

"I, uh.. he.. I asked.." Scully took a deep breath and blew it out.
"Alright, I’ll just say it. I asked.. for something.. and he refused.
Which is his prerogative, I don’t argue that, but.. well, if Mulder’s
been telling stories, then you know that I like to.. play..
sometimes. Kyle doesn’t like to.. play," she gestured with a delicate
wrist. Skinner understood; according to Mulder, Scully could burn up
the sheets with him. Skinner had given a brief thought to asking
Mulder to invite Scully to join them, but decided that it would be
too awkward with the children in the house.

"And you’re getting bored," he surmised. Scully nodded, her face
still flushed.

"When ever we’re together, it has to be on his terms. His idea of
an interesting compromise is either on the floor or the couch. Me on
top is a wild night for him," she complained. It had never occurred
to Skinner that Kyle was that conservative. Now that he thought about
it, Kyle did avoid the normal ‘guy’ banter with Ruvin and Joe.
Although he didn’t seek it out, Skinner had no objection to that kind
of male bonding and could tell his own stories without a problem when
he found himself in that type of situation.

"Was this something you asked for far left field?" he asked, trying
to find a non-invasive phrasing. Scully shrugged.

"I don’t think so, it wasn’t anything really outrageous. I just
didn’t feel like being all proper with the lights out and under the
covers, I just wanted to be..." Scully remembered who she was talking
to and buried her head in her hands. Skinner held in a laugh.

"Are you avoiding the ‘F’ word?" he asked. Scully nodded. Skinner
took her hands away. "Listen, I see no problem with that. Making love
is nice, it can be a wonderful experience, but sometimes a person
just needs to give in to hormones and get fucked stupid," he said
bluntly. Considering the fact that he and Mulder spent the morning in
bed, he understood perfectly.

"Really?" Scully asked, relieved that he understood. "Mulder would
jump at whatever I asked for.. um.."

Skinner laughed.

"I know and he still does, go on," he encouraged her.

"I was beginning to think that maybe he and I were the unusual ones
and that Kyle was normal and that there must be something wrong with
me."

"Scully, if there’s one thing I’ve learned in the past couple of
years, it’s that there’s no such thing as ‘normal’. Your needs are
just as valid as the next person’s. Has Kyle explained why he isn’t
comfortable with anything rougher?"

"He said that we’re civilized people, not animals."

"Give him 6 months on active duty, he’ll get over that notion real
fast," he said dryly. Scully smiled and nodded in agreement. "Ask
yourself one thing, Dana," Skinner said, taking her hand again. "Do
you love him?"

Scully had to think about her answer, which spoke volumes to Skinner.

"I think that I was in lust with him," she said with a twinge of
regret.

"Then be honest with him. He’s just over a very nasty divorce, so
don’t wait until you hate each other. If you can’t make it work, cut
it off. Blame it on regulations, if you want to. Superior officer and
agent."

Scully nodded and wiped her cheek.

"Are we past the Skinner and Scully thing now?" he asked. Scully
laughed and sniffed.

"What?" Skinner asked.

"When Mulder and Krycek had the chicken pox, Krycek lectured me
about names. He said that after so many years, I should be able to
say ‘Walter’ and ‘Fox’. Force of habit, I guess."

Skinner stuck out his hand. "Walter," he introduced himself. Scully
smiled and shook his hand.

"Dana."

Skinner leaned in closer.

"So tell me, Dana, what kinds of games will make Fox scream his
head off? I need ammo, spill the beans."

Feeling mischievous, Scully leaned in and gave Skinner the low-down
on Fox Mulder’s more wild schemes to get off. Skinner could see that
he was going to have to go shopping.

"Knock knock," came a voice at the open door.

"Em! Hi," Skinner said, he and Scully both jumping in surprise.

"Sorry to interrupt your pow-wow. I have a space rug that Alex
likes, so I thought I’d donate it to the Cause. I brought it over,"
she pointed a thumb downstairs.

"That’s great, Em, you didn’t need to do that," Skinner said,
touched by the woman’s generosity.

"I know that, but I wanted to; besides, Alex likes it, I don’t,"
she said primly. Skinner chuckled.

"Why don’t we leave it downstairs for now, so that we don’t get
paint on it?" he suggested. Emilia agreed and turned to go back down
the stairs.

"Is she and Krycek..???" Scully whispered in disbelief.

"They’re both highly sexual creatures and they fulfill each other’s
needs," was all Skinner would say. "I told you, Dana, beneath Alex’s
Beast Raban exterior, is an actual person. You really should try and
get to know him." Privately, he thought that it was too bad that
Scully and Alex hated each other, because Alex would have no problem
giving Scully what she wanted.



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

They finished the painting that evening and in the morning, they
set Emilia’s rug and took Krycek’s favorite couch from the family
room upstairs. The cats dared to enter again, and finding no
offending smells, the inspected the place. Skinner thought that they
did a better job of inspecting than the inspector did. They then took
over the couch and surveyed their new territory with smug approval.
After Skinner’s family meeting, they decided to keep the furniture
from the rental store. Skinner had mailed the store a check for the
first month’s rent on the things only to have the check mailed back
with a note ‘paid in full’. Confused, Skinner called the store and
discovered that all the rented furniture had indeed been bought
outright. Mulder didn’t pay for it, so he then called Scully, but she
didn’t know anything about it either. Skinner was sure it was some
kind of clerical error, but he wasn’t going to argue with it, so he
dropped it. Just on an off-chance, he asked Krycek, who denied
knowledge of the incident. Skinner didn’t know whether or not to
believe him. They decided to leave the rest of the flat unfurnished.
Krycek could do it himself to suit his own tastes.

When they were done, the men went back downstairs and around the
front at the sound of the twins laughing. They had another hour
before they had to go to kindergarten. Having had only six weeks of
it in the spring, the guys decided to keep them with their age group
and have them officially begin with the rest of the five year olds.
When they got home at noon, they would have lunch, take a nap, and
work in their work books for a couple of hours. Skinner found his new
deputy kicking the soccer ball around with the boys. Skinner was
beginning to think that football was a lost cause in their house.

"Good morning, Sir," KC greeted him. Skinner introduced Mulder.

"Dom!" the boys yelled and ran down the sidewalk. They jumped at
Dominic who caught them and groaned under their weight. The boys
giggled at his antics. Ivan climbed around to Dominic’s back while
Pavel clung to his leg.

"Walter! Are you sure Alex is their father and not a monkey?" Dom
asked.

"Well, Alex has been called a lot of things, but I don’t think he’s
ever been called a monkey," Skinner said.

"Rat, asshole, bastard, fu..." Mulder began to mutter under his
breath.

"Not Alex is a monkey, is their father a monkey?" Dom stopped and
stared. "Katie?!"

"Aw, Dom, don’t call me that, you know I hate that name," KC
whined. Skinner looked from one to the other.

"You know each other?" he asked.

"You didn’t tell him?" Dom asked, gesturing toward Skinner. KC
shook her head.

"Tell me what?" Skinner warned.

"Walter, this is Katherine Calina, your cousin on your
grandmother’s side," Dominic introduced them.

"KC!" KC insisted, stomping her foot like a child.

"Wait a minute." Skinner held up his hands. "I have Irish cousins?"

Mulder burst out laughing. "Wait until Scully hears this one!"

"Not by blood, no," Dom said. "Kat... KC’s mother is your
grandmother’s sister’s daughter, your great-aunt Mabel. Aunt Mabel
was the rebel of the bunch, she married an Irishman. Caused more
controversy in the family than you did."

Skinner had long since given up on getting his family tree
straightened out.

"Why didn’t you tell me?" he asked KC.

"Because, I wanted you to hire me for me, not out of familial
obligation."

"See? A rebel, just like your mother," Dom pointed out good-
naturedly.

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

The boys excitedly called Alex to come home. He arrived two days
later, just after dinner, walking in the front door with a suspicious
look on his face.

"I don’t like surprises," was the first thing he said.

"Shut up, Alex," Mulder said. He knew that Krycek was going to be
difficult, so he convinced the others to let him deal with his little
brother. "Go out the kitchen door and go up the stairs."

Krycek looked across the room and out the kitchen.

"What stairs?" he asked.

"The new stairs. Go." Mulder pointed. The carpenter had to build a
new set of stairs to reach the attic, since the small escape hatch in
the ceiling of the upstairs hallway really wasn’t workable on a
regular bases. Skinner had taken one look at the new stairs and
laughed.

"Fonzie," he had said. It took Mulder a moment but he had laughed,
too. They attached a hand-made sign to the side of the house, next to
the new door, which said ‘Krycek’.

Krycek hesitantly walked out the back, suspicion in every step.
After waiting for half an hour, the men decided to get the boys ready
for bed and dumped them into a bath. Forty-five minutes later, Krycek
still wasn’t back down. Natti shook her head; he didn’t come down the
stairs. She had been sitting in the kitchen, waiting. Krycek was up
there for three hours before he showed up in the livingroom. The men
had let the boys stay up past their bedtime so that they could give
Krycek the present that they had made for him.

"Why," he asked hoarsely, his face white. Mulder stood up and went
over to him.

"Because. You gave me Walter, my nephews, you’re my son’s uncle,
you’re my brother, my friend. Pick a reason." Mulder put his arms
around Krycek, holding him tightly. Skinner could see a tremble run
across Krycek’s shoulders.

"Alex?" Pavel patted Krycek on his hip for attention. Skinner
thought he saw Krycek rub his eyes on Mulder’s shoulder before
lifting his head.

"We made this for you," Pavel said. Ivan and Adam held up a gold
wrapped square. Krycek slowly took it, looking at it as though he’d
never seen a present before. Skinner thought about it; Krycek had
been absent during Christmas, or Midwinter, as Mulder insisted on
calling it. He wondered how long it had been since anyone had given
Krycek a present.

Krycek hesitantly unwrapped it, being neat about it and peeling the
tape carefully. He drew out a picture frame and stared at it. It was
taken during the twins’ birthday party. Mulder sat with Adam on his
lap, Skinner with Ivan, and Pavel standing between their chairs. They
had yelled at Krycek to come over until Natti ordered him to get
behind Pavel. Krycek squatted down behind the boy and Pavel leaned
back against him, Krycek’s hand resting on the boy’s stomach. Natti
snapped their picture. Skinner had the picture blown up recently and
helped the boys make a paper frame for it. The boys decorated it,
making a mess of Natti’s kitchen with glue, glitter and confetti,
writing their names around the border. Skinner added his name at
their insistence and Mulder his own, along with the date at the
bottom. Skinner then had the entire project sealed into a glass frame
and wrapped.

The picture was thrust into Mulder’s hands and Krycek quickly left
out the back. Natti stopped Mulder from following him.

"I’ve held him since the day he was born, let me handle this."

Mulder acquiesced and Natti followed Krycek’s path out the door.

"Didn’t he like it?" Pavel asked, his eyes moist. Mulder put the
frame down on the couch and picked Pavel up.

"He liked it very much, Pavie, so much that his heart hurts. It’s
the best present anyone ever gave him. He’ll be back, don’t worry."
Mulder hugged him and put little kisses on Pavel’s chubby cheek.
Skinner had picked up Ivan and rested him on one hip, while wrapping
an arm around Adam’s shoulders.

They got the boys calmed down and waited in the livingroom. Natti
came back a little while later.

"You boys go on up and see Alex," she told them. The boys hurried
out the back door.

"What’s going on, Natti?" Skinner asked. She poured a cup of coffee
and sat down.

"Sharon was the only one to even try and give him something that
came from the heart. The only person before that was his mother at
his fifth birthday. He met his biological father on his fifth
birthday and all the hugs, kisses and laughter stopped. At five years
old. He was deliberately raised to be the person that he has been. He
was a very kind and wonderful little boy, Ivan has his personality at
that age. He couldn’t understand why his father didn’t love him
anymore and why his mother was always crying and pushing him away. He
was forced into hiding his natural feelings until it became second
nature to him."

"And we just blew the hell out of a titanium wall," Mulder pieced
together. Natti nodded.

"That’s why he rescued them," Skinner said. "And why their fifth
birthday was so important to him."

"Natti, when is Alex’s birthday? He refuses to tell me," Mulder
asked. Skinner nodded.

"He even forbade Sharon to tell me," Skinner said.

Natti smiled as a mother who was feeling her child’s pain, and
pointed at the photo still on the couch.

"Oh, my God," the men breathed together.

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

Mulder took out two sleeping bags and spent the night upstairs.
Skinner understood. In the morning, after the boys were at school,
Mulder came in to take a shower and get ready for work. He’d get
there late for the second day in a row, but ASAC’s have a little bit
more freedom than the grunt agents. He could work at home, if he
needed to. He walked into their bedroom with just a towel around his
waist which he removed after shutting the door. He’d rather not give
Natti an eye-full so early in the day. Skinner rummaged around in the
closet until he found what he was looking for. He came up behind
Mulder and took the suit out of his hands.

"Hey!" he protested. Skinner took his hand and dragged him over to
the bed. "Walter, I have to go to work! I didn’t get there until noon
yesterday."

Skinner didn’t say a word as he gently pushed Mulder down onto the
bed and flattened him out on his back.

"Walter..."

Skinner took Mulder’s hands and tied a silk tie around them,
attaching them to the headboard.

"Walter..?"

Another set of ties were looped around Mulder’s ankles. Skinner
tied each leg to the bottom of the bed where he had attached two
pieces of rope, also the day before.

"Walter..??"

He then took a black bandana that he had bought the day before and
tied it around Mulder’s head, covering his eyes.

"Walter..!!"

Skinner called Scully and told her that Mulder was all tied up and
couldn’t make it into work, he’ll make up the time on the weekend.
Scully laughed and ok’d him. Skinner opened his side drawer and took
out a feather.

....

....

....

"WALTER!!!!"

end part 14. 


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

Title: Dancing With Alex –WPF pt 15
by Batela

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

	Everyone was busy dusting and polishing when a cell phone rang.

	"Mine," Skinner said as four adults reached for their pockets.
"Skinner," he said, wiping a window down with one hand. He stopped,
listening to Natti. Mulder noticed and stopped, too. He walked over
to Skinner and put out a hand, resting it on Skinner’s waist. "Send
him over here, please. Thanks." He disconnected the cell and put it
back in his pocket.

	"Marty has a registered letter for me. I have to sign for it."
Marty was their postman.

	"Registered? From who?" Mulder asked. Skinner lifted a hand.

	"I don’t know, we’ll find out in a few minutes."

	They had been at Dominic’s for most of the day, helping to get the
place cleaned out and up. Most of the furniture was too gothic for
Dom’s taste, so he called an auction house to come and get it. The
proceeds would come back to his new parish. Marc had come out from
the city to help, but Skinner suspected that his young cousin simply
needed time with people who understood him better than his older
cousins, aunts and uncles, most of whom were either not speaking to
him or hurled taunts and epitaphs every time he walked into the room.
Luckily, Marc had the support of his sisters and his father. Zia
Ginny had declared that she was on her death bed and closed herself
off in her room, permitting no one except her priest to enter.
Dominic told Skinner not to worry about it, she’d be out when the
soaps started again on Monday. Everyone just needed time to adjust;
theirs was the poster family for bi-polar disorders. Mulder had
nudged Skinner and said,

	"You see? You’re not the only bi in the family."

	Marcus took Skinner up on the offer to use the family room for the
time being. He didn’t want to stay with Dom, who had imposed a
celibacy rule for the house. Marc had no intentions of bed-hopping
through town, but neither did he appreciate the 11th Commandment,
‘thou shalt obey cousin Dominic’.

Krycek was out of town, so Skinner didn’t have to worry about...

	"What’s going on?"

	...Krycek was back in town.

	"You need glasses, Alex, I swear you do," Mulder told him, waving a
rag and a bottle of Murphy’s Oil Soap. Mulder suddenly tossed the rag
and bottle down and ran to the door, putting his arms out and holding
onto the frame. Everyone stopped and looked at him.

	"What are you doing?" Krycek asked, looking at Mulder with a
wrinkle of confusion between his eyes.

	"Making sure the building doesn’t collapse," Mulder said. Skinner
burst out laughing. Krycek looked from one to the other before his
eyes rested on a large Crucifix on the wall.

	"Oh, ha ha, very funny," Krycek said. Dom and Marc finally got it;
Krycek, the Devil, in a Church. "Just for that, I don’t think I
should give you the present I found for you at an estate sale in
London. Large estate. Old money estate. An entire library of musty,
smelly, extremely obscure, old books." Krycek took a step closer to
Mulder with each adjective, waving a wrapped square package he had
pulled from the back of his jacket, in the air. Mulder released the
door frame and came slowly closer, his nose practically sniffing the
air. Krycek feinted and ran past him out the door. Mulder swore and
ran after him. Skinner chuckled.

	"Fox has a thing for strange books," he told his cousins. He
noticed that Dom had a cold look on his face. "What?" Skinner asked.
Dom shook his head and shot Marc a look that Skinner could only
interpret as a severe warning. Marc flushed and threw his cleaning
rag down, stalking out of the house.

	"Boys, go outside and play for a while," Skinner asked them.

	"Yes, Sir," they said, knowing when it was not a good time to
listen to the adults. They ran outside to look for Alex and Uncle Fox.

	"What was that all about?" Skinner asked Dominic in his AD voice.

	"It doesn’t bother you that Alex was Marc’s..?" Dom asked with a
look of disbelief as he waved his hand.

Skinner’s mind blanked out to be followed by a flash of images that
scared the shit out of him. He turned and followed everyone else out
the door.

	"Stay here," he said to the boys, pointing at the house. He kept
his voice calm, not wanting to scare them. They were too busy
tumbling down the high rise of the lawn to notice Skinner’s altered
mood.

	Skinner strode past Marty, who frantically turned his jeep around
and called out to Skinner to stop. Skinner stopped, but jumped into
the passenger side of the jeep.

	"Drive, Marty," he growled. Instead of lecturing Skinner that no
one was allowed in a US Postal jeep except a US Postal employee,
Marty drove. He asked very nicely if Skinner would sign the letter.
Skinner signed for it and stuffed it into his back pocket. Minutes
later, he was home and storming through the front door. Mulder and
Krycek were sitting on the couch looking at the old book that Mulder
was delicately paging through. They looked up at Skinner’s entrance
and before they could say anything, Skinner had his hands on Krycek’s
shirt, hauling him up off the couch, his feet barely touching the
floor.

	"Did you hurt him?" Skinner growled.

	"Walter!" Mulder jumped to his feet, his eyes open in astonishment.

	"What the hell is your problem?" Krycek yelped. Natti came running
out of her room where she was watching a movie.

	"Marcus! Did you hurt him!" Skinner gave Krycek a shake.

	"No, Walter, he didn’t," came a voice at the door. Skinner dropped
Krycek, who fell back onto the couch. Skinner strode over to Marc.

	"Tell me the truth, Marc, I won’t let him touch you," Skinner
promised his young cousin, putting his hands on Marc’s slim
shoulders, looking into Marc’s brown eyes, looking for abuse.

	"He didn’t hurt me, Walter, really," Marc insisted. "I told you, it
was wonderful. He took his time, he was patient. It hurt a little at
first, but after that it was the greatest feeling that I have every
felt. I have no one to compare him to, but I’d say he’s a very good
lover. Really." Marc smoothed Skinner’s tensed shoulders. "Don’t be
mad at him, he made the initial offer and gave me the choice and the
time to take it. I wanted him, Walter, please. Don’t be mad, everyone
is mad at me, not you, too," Marc pleaded softly, his eyes sad.

	"Walter," Mulder said calmly behind him. He put his hands on
Skinner’s back, rubbing them gently over the tight muscles. "Come on,
babe, I believe him. I also believe that Alex wouldn’t rape anyone."

	Skinner shut his eyes, trying to calm himself. He loosened his grip
on Marc’s shoulders and drew him in.

	"I’m not mad at you, Marc," Skinner said. "I’m only worried for
you. I wanted your first time to be good, that’s all."

	Marc pulled off of Skinner’s shoulder and smiled a little.

	"It was good," he insisted. "better than my dreams. I thought sex
was going to be mechanical, but he made me feel alive. Come here,
Alex," Marc held out a hand to Krycek, who was still on the couch,
looking like a whipped dog that was ready to bite back. "Alex," Marc
insisted. Mulder added his own weight to the invitation and motioned
Krycek up.

	Krycek stood resentfully, glaring at Skinner with the cold-blooded
eyes of a killer. Marc stepped away from Skinner and put his mouth to
Krycek’s. Surprised for a second, Krycek then responded, taking
Marc’s breath away. He put his hands on the younger man’s waist and
rubbed gently as they touched tongues.

	Skinner had never imagined what Krycek kissing would look like, but
it wouldn’t have been something that looked so good.

	Marc took his time ending the kiss, giving Krycek’s cheek a stroke
before turning back to Skinner and Mulder.

	"He didn’t hurt me," Marc said, a new maturity in his voice as he
squeezed Skinner’s arm.

	Skinner pulled the reign on his anger, telling himself that Marc
was an adult and that Alex knew what would happen if he hurt Marc.
Skinner felt like an idiot for not thinking before he acted.

	"Alex, I..."

	Krycek took a step forward, fist raised and ready to fly. Mulder
and Marc yelled, trying to keep the two men separate. Natti ran
across the room to try and calm Krycek.

	"Peace, please," Dom begged from the doorway. "I’m sorry. This is
my fault."

	Mulder kept his hands on Skinner, holding him back, while Marc and
Natti attempted to hold Krycek back. Dom came forward, standing
between them.

	"Alex. Marky. I thought he knew," Dom explained. "I would never
have blurted it out if I thought that he didn’t know. I even said it
badly, Alex, his anger is my fault. Please."

	Krycek shook Marc and Natti off. He stormed out the back door,
stomping up the stairs. The door slammed shut.

	"I’ll go and talk...." Mulder began.

	"No, Fox, it’s my turn," Skinner said, turning to follow Krycek. He
turned back, brushed Mulder’s mouth, and went out the back door.

	He needed to put this right, there was too much conflict in their
home. In a home of seven people, honesty was needed, boundaries drawn
and respected; if not for the sake of the adults, then for the sake
of three boys pulled in the middle. It was past due for Skinner to
bury the hatchet, and not in Krycek’s back. The man had been trying
but Skinner hadn’t given him a chance. He climbed the stairs and
reached for the doorknob; he stopped. Waiting behind the first
boundary line, he knocked.

	"May I come in?" he asked politely when there was no response. "I’d
like to talk, Alex."

	He waited several minutes and slowly turned, his heart heavy. He
was half way down the stairs when he heard the lock click. He climbed
back up, pausing before turning the knob.

	"May I come in?" he asked again, opening the door just a crack.

	"Come," he heard reluctantly spoken. He stepped in and quietly shut
the door behind him.

	Krycek was sitting in the corner of his couch, arms crossed
defensively. Skinner looked around. Krycek had slowly begun to
decorate his flat with his own choice of furnishings. An
entertainment center had been added and a desk for his computer, a
small bookshelf with a few books. He was even surprised to see
curtains blowing in an open window. Everything was neat and tidy,
another trait that Skinner had not expected from Krycek.

	"I’m sorry, Alex," Skinner said with all sincerity. "I should have
asked you about it first." He gestured toward the chair at the desk.
Krycek shrugged, not looking at him. Skinner pulled the chair out and
turned it around, facing Krycek.

	"All I could think about was our history together, can you
understand that?" he asked gently. After a moment, Krycek gave a
single nod. "We’ve both seen the worst that Humanity has to offer,
we’ve seen nightmares that no sane person should ever have to
witness. We’ve seen innocent people, children, destroyed in the name
of whatever someone’s current cause is. Marc is an innocent. He’s a
gentle, bewildered soul who has found himself right smack in the
middle of a loud boisterous family in the middle of a loud dangerous
city. In my own selfish way, I wanted him to have what I had; someone
to show him the joy of life, not a quick, painful fuck in the back
seat." Skinner could see that Krycek was paying attention, even if he
was staring at the floor.

	"First times are almost always completely forgettable experiences.
Mine wasn’t. Fox is a wonderful lover, he made it perfect for me. I
think that I saw myself in Marc and I wanted it to be wonderful for
him, too. He’s too pretty, Alex, too trusting. You know as well as I
do what kind of scum would have lured him in and turned him out."

	Krycek nodded. He usually killed scum like that.

	"When Dom said that you... I saw that palm pilot again, like a bad
dream. I saw guns, blood, hospitals, Fox and Dana both being taken..
you killed a Hunter not too long ago. I saw Marc being grabbed. I
don’t want him involved in the life that we have led, he’d never
survive it."

	Skinner stood up and sat at the end of the couch, facing Krycek.

	"He says you were patient and caring with him. I’m sorry for
doubting that you knew those qualities. If I doubt again, I promise
to at least try and remember to ask you first, instead of accusing."
Skinner held out his hand and waited.

	"You had good reason to doubt," Krycek quietly admitted as he
slowly put his hand in Skinner’s.

	"Contrary to popular belief, I don’t get my thrills hurting
innocent people," Krycek said, almost too low for Skinner to hear. "I
don’t deny killing bastards who’ve deserved it, I’d do it again, but
when I’ve had to hurt innocent people, like you, Scully.. I was under
surveillance. Bad excuse, but it’s the truth.

	"I would never have hurt Marc. He isn’t the first person that I’ve
‘initiated’ and I’m sure he won’t be the last. My own initiation was
a gang rape, I didn’t want that for him. You’re right, Marc is too
pretty. I hope it won’t happen, but if it does, I’ve given him good
memories to fall back on. I made love to him, Skinner, I didn’t fuck
him. I do know what making love is, and I enjoy it very much," he
said in defense.

	"I’m sorry, Alex, my view of you is a biased one, I admit it,"
Skinner said, leaning forward. "I’m trying very hard to get over
that, and for the most part, I thought I did. The ‘nice’ side of you
that I’ve seen has been you with the boys and getting to know Fox.
Any time you spent with Sharon, was only with her. I guess we’re
still strangers, after.. what? 25 years? About? Will you let me get
to know you better?"

	Krycek crossed his legs, leaning his elbows on them as he looked at
the cushion. He whispered something, but Skinner didn’t hear him.

	"I said, do you miss her?"

	Skinner didn’t need to ask who. "I miss her very much. I was a
lousy husband to her, I shut her out when I should have been letting
her love me. She wanted the divorce, I didn’t. I wouldn’t sign the
papers because I couldn’t stand the thought of her not being there
when I woke up in the mornings. I thought that if I didn’t sign,
there wouldn’t be a divorce, and I could win her back."

	Krycek picked a stray thread and balled it up.

	"I came to the funeral," he mumbled. Skinner was stunned.

	"I didn’t see you," was all he could say. Krycek lifted a shoulder.

	"You were too busy arguing with the Old Man. I’m just surprised
that Fox or Scully didn’t shoot the bastard and toss him into the
open grave for an easy burial," Krycek snorted wryly.

	"What? They weren’t there," Skinner said. For the first time,
Krycek looked up.

	"Sure they were, right behind you, by the big oak tree. I figured
they were avoiding him."

	"I think I’m going to have to have a long talk with Fox," Skinner
said. He knew, though, why his agents had been there and didn’t tell
him; they were showing their support for him, knowing that he would
never have accepted it.

	"Let me know when so I can leave town."

	Skinner looked at Krycek sitting in the corner of the couch,
dejected. He hadn’t realized how much the younger man had changed
over the past few years. The old Krycek would have punched Skinner in
the face and left with a loud ‘fuck you!’; this Krycek actually
seemed to care about Skinner’s opinion. Krycek had a slight pout
which he was trying not to show. Skinner’s vision was suddenly
juxtaposed with two little boys and he gave a chuckle.

	"What?" Krycek asked.

	"The twins. I just saw them as adults. In about 15 years, there’s
going to be three of you running around."

	"Heaven help the world?" Krycek suggested.

	"Something like that," Skinner said, remembering his conversation
with Mulder the night that Krycek had brought the boys to them. "I
love them very much, Alex. I never thought I would love a child like
this, not even one of my own. I know that I’m their uncle, but I feel
like their father."

	"Did you want children of your own?" Krycek asked, curious.

	"At times. Probably a hormonal flux. Sometimes I felt real pain at
wanting a child, sometimes I was convinced that I’d be as lousy a
father as I was a husband. Since a bullet took away that choice, I
just tried to put it out of my mind."

	"It would have been dangerous for you to have a child," Krycek
reminded him. Skinner nodded.

	"Just one more bargaining chip," he said. "Besides, I was too
selfish at the time."

	Krycek stood and went to the refrigerator. He took out two beers
and handed one to Skinner, sitting down again as he twisted the top
off.

	"So, did you want a girl or boy?"

	Skinner chuckled.

	"I could be politically correct and say anything as long as it was
healthy, but then footballs come to mind. Having experienced a house
full of sons, though, I think I’m ready for something sweet and
pretty." He could see the wheels turning. "Don’t, Alex," he warned
the man. "We have a full house already, no more children. Especially
not a girl; that would kill Fox and destroy whatever’s left of
Scully’s sanity."

	Krycek nodded. "I forgot about that," he admitted.

	The one subject that Mulder refused to discuss; the daughter that
he and Scully had together. She had died within days of her birth in
cardiac arrest due to a heart defect. She had been with them long
enough for Mulder and Scully to fall in love with her.

	"If I need a little girl running around for a while, I have cousins
to borrow from," Skinner said.

	"If you freak out over a cousin you hardly know losing his
virginity, what are you going to do when the boys become sexually
active?" Krycek asked in amusement. Skinner groaned, not wanting to
think that far ahead.

	"Probably go on a bender to forget that I’m getting old," he said.
"How did you lose yours? With a woman, I mean?" he asked, suddenly
curious.

	"That was about the only thing that I can honestly thank the old
man for," he said, lifting his beer in salute. "He sent me to a very
expensive, very high-class call-girl for my 16th birthday. She
‘serviced’ only the very elite of society. I spent two days and two
night under her tender ministrations. It cost him a fortune."

	"How considerate of him," Skinner said dryly. "Promise me that
you’ll wait until the boys are 18 before you send them for
‘servicing’."

	Krycek lifted his bottle again, "Hail the great god Priapas," he
intoned solemnly.

	"Blasphemy, and with a Priest in the house," Skinner reprimanded
him, though amused. Krycek snorted, unimpressed. "What about with a
man? Not counting your ‘initiation’."

	"Same two days. She wanted a complete accounting for any past
teenage groping so I told her about my history. She immediately sent
for a friend of hers to join us. She believed in getting back onto a
horse after falling off. Lucky for me, the guy was a decent size but
he wasn’t a horse."

	Skinner frowned; the numbers weren’t adding up right.

	"But you were 16. How old were you when the other.. happened?"

	"Rape, Walter, you can say it. I was 14. Man was pissed at Pop for
some reason so he and a couple of his buddies cornered the old man’s
kid with the pretty girl eyes." Krycek inspected the remainder of his
beer and gulped it. Skinner was justifiably shocked.

	"Did you tell anyone?" he asked.

	"Yes. Spender. Right after I made my first three kills," he said
dispassionately. Skinner ran his mind over the time period. He had
been married to Sharon for about a year and a half when Alex was
about 14. He suddenly recalled Sharon buying a birthday present in
the spring. He was never even able to remember the time of year for
Krycek’s birthday until this moment.

	"I remember you being in the hospital for a while. Sharon was
worried. I thought it was appendicitis."

	Krycek nodded. "Actually, those bastards perforated my bowel. I
needed surgery. Old man told everyone that it was my appendix. He
actually had his doctors remove it at the same time they fixed the
tear."

	Skinner swallowed the rest of his beer. "Another thing to apologize
for; I should have been there for you. My own wife’s little brother
and I never even tried. I should have been a better brother-in-law."

	Krycek inclined his head toward Skinner’s hand.

	"You still are my brother-in-law," he reminded Skinner. Skinner
looked down at his left hand, the gold band shining on his finger.
"We all have things in our past that we would change if we could, but
we can’t. Use my philosophy, Walter," Krycek leaned forward, about to
impart great wisdom.

	"If you can’t do anything about it, just say ‘fuck it!’ and move on."

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



He found everyone sitting in the kitchen when he went back down, so
he sat himself at the table.

	"Did you yell at Alex?" Ivan asked. Skinner lifted him onto his lap.

	"Yes, I did," he admitted.

	"Did you say sorry?"

	"Yes, I did."

	Ivan kissed his cheek and hopped down to go and play. Mulder pushed
his coffee over for Skinner to share.

	"Is it alright if I go up?" Marc asked. Skinner nodded.

	"Knock first, and respect his wishes if he wants to be alone."

	Skinner slouched in the chair, his head thrown back.

	"Is he alright?" Mulder asked quietly.

	"I think so. We had a good talk. I even learned a few things about
him that I never knew. Dom, why are you being so hard on Marc?"
Skinner switched to the other person without a pause or lifting his
head. Dom contemplated his coffee.

	"Religious reasons aside, I changed his diapers. Watching a baby
grow into a man, and having all your hopes and dreams for him thrown
out the window in a single instant, is a shattering experience. What
would you do if one of your boys moved onto a path that you knew deep
in your heart was wrong?"

	Skinner straightened up and looked Dom in the eyes.

	"I think your reason is an incredibly self-centered one and has
more to do with what you want than what he wants. I hope that I love
and trust my boys enough that they will make the decisions for their
lives that they have to make, and that I will respect their choices.
And no matter what they do, I hope that they love and trust me enough
to know that I will always be here for them."

	"Very correct," Dom responded.

	"Also very true," Skinner said. "Fox, I need to go into the city
for a while."

	Mulder inclined his head, accepting Skinner’s need without asking
for an explanation. Skinner took his car keys from the keyrack on the
wall. He bent down and kissed Mulder, pouring his passion for the
younger man into the act, before backing away and going up to his
room for his wallet.

	Just after Skinner left, Mulder noticed the registered envelope
sitting on the table and picked it up, turning it curiously. It was
from a lawyer’s office in Seattle.

	Ninety minutes later, Skinner was jabbing a fist hard at a bag
handing from the ceiling. Sweat poured off of him as he punched right
and then left, grunting with the effort. None of the other men
offered to spar with him; they could see the bad head-space that he
was in. He pictured a face and swung at it, feeling the adrenaline
rush through his muscles and his body. Face after face was punched at
until his arms began to grow weary.

	He stood under the shower, hands on the wall in front of his as he
let the hot stream cascade down his back. He was so sick and tired of
all the crap, of having to explain himself to various clergy, to his
new family, of being on guard. It was no one’s fucking business what
went on in his house!

A couple other men came in, quickly showered off, and left. He
wondered if they would have used the shower if they knew that he
showered quite often with another man. Skinner noticed nothing more
until a hand reached around and shut off the water. He turned to bark
at the intruder. Krycek.

	"What are you doing here?" Skinner asked. Krycek handed him a towel.

	"Helping you find trouble. I figured it was my specialty so I left
Fox to watch his kids."

	Skinner frowned and dried his face and head.

	"I don’t need help finding trouble."

	Krycek turned to walk out of the shower. "I could go a long way
with that statement," he said over his shoulder, his boots echoing on
the tile. Skinner must have really been out of it not to have heard
Krycek enter.

	Half an hour later, Skinner was attempting to corner the 8 ball. He
missed.

	"Ha!" Krycek raised a triumphant fist. Skinner handed over five
dollars. He never claimed pool as one of his accomplishments, so he
bet double or nothing on the darts. He was always a better shot than
Krycek.

	"I made a discovery today," Skinner said. Krycek’s dart landed at
the edge of the outer circle.

	"And what would that be?" he asked. Skinner’s dart was centered.

	"I discovered that my family is human."

	Krycek stopped his aim to look briefly at Skinner.

	"Welcome to Earth," he said, sending his dart flying. "Let’s see if
you were paying attention to the Gospel of Alex; what’s my first
Commandment?"

	Skinner paused in taking a gulp from his beer bottle.

	"Fuck it?" he said after a moment. Krycek patted him on the head.

	"Very good! What’s my second Commandment?"

	Skinner had no idea so he shrugged.

	"How would you know, I haven’t told you," Krycek said. "Alex’s
second Commandment is –confession is good for the soul. So confess;
have you ever done Scully?"

	Skinner choked on his beer.

	"No, why?" he asked between coughs. Krycek smacked helpfully
between the shoulder blades. Skinner was sure his teeth were going to
fly out.

	"Better question is why not? She’s hot, Walter."

	Skinner’s darts all crowded the center of the board.

	"I’m aware of her temperature," he said. "Honestly? I’ve never
asked her because of timing. She was with Fox, I was AD; I was with
Fox, she’s AD. We have children in the house, delicate job positions
to consider..."

	Krycek held up a hand.

	"Let me get this straight, excuse the term. If there were no kids
and no sensitive jobs, you’d ask her?" Krycek didn’t believe it.

	"Sure." Skinner waited for Krycek to shoot.

	"With or without Fox?"

	"Both."

	Krycek’s dart hit the wall. "You? A threesome?!"

	"If they both agreed, yes. I’m a little anal retentive, Alex, I’m
not a prude."

	"Can you picture Scully’s face as she watches you and Fox fucking?"
Krycek laughed, bending over to slap his thigh in his glee. "I’m
sorry I ruined your orgy plans," he said between chuckles. Skinner
had a vision of the twins in 35 years time. He hoped he was still
around to see them. "Let me know when you need the space for a party,
I know people with the proper settings that you can borrow. I’ll
expect an invite, though, that’s one show I don’t want to miss." It
was Skinner’s turn to hit the hall.

	"Have you...?" he asked. Krycek shrugged and tossed a dart.

	"Sure, I’ve been to some really great parties. This is what happens
when old fogies settle down and start a family, Walter," he waggled a
finger at Skinner. "They miss out on the best parties."

	"And what do you think you’d do at an orgy with me and Fox?
Assuming that Scully would even let you through the door." Skinner
asked. Krycek slinked over to him and put an arm around his shoulder.

	"What do you think I’d do with you naked at my feet?" he asked
teasingly. "You in that gym shower is going to supply a hell of a lot
of fantasy material." He nipped at Skinner’s ear.

	Skinner flushed and shoved Krycek off him.

	"Hey! This ain’t no fag bar!" came a yell from the tables.

	Since Krycek had chosen the worst bar in the worst part of town to
swish into, Skinner knew it was only a matter of time before one of
the greasy leather clad porkers took exception to Krycek’s wiggling
butt. It took an entire forty minutes.

	"It isn’t?" Krycek asked in amazement. "Sorry, sweet cheeks, I took
one look at you and thought I was in fag heaven!"

	And the fight was on.

	The loud mouthed biker came at Krycek with a bottle and a roar as
others grabbed cue sticks, chairs, knives and chains. Considering
Krycek’s hand to hand combat was almost as bad as Mulder’s, Skinner
knew that this was a bad idea. A table flew past his head and smashed
into the mirror behind the bar. The smell of alcohol immediately
filled the air. Krycek tossed a cue stick to Skinner and they both
blocked and swung at their attackers. Skinner’s stick broke in half
over a head, so he swung out his fist. The man went down. Skinner
shook his head in disappointment; glass jaw. Unfortunately, their fun
was put to a halt by the police very quickly.

	"Officer, we were minding our own business, just playing darts, a
couple of beers, buddies talking, when that man decided he liked my
ass," Krycek said indignantly, pointing at the greasy biker lying
semi-conscious on the floor. "He wouldn’t take no for an answer and
he touched me. What was I supposed to do? I clocked him like any real
man would."

	Skinner verified Krycek’s story.

	"That’s a fucking lie!" one of the women spat out. Krycek gave the
officer Ivan’s innocent dimples and glittering eyes.

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

	"I should let you both stew in here until morning and hand you over
to Mulder!"

	The officer had run their ID’s. They found nothing on Krycek, big
surprise, but they took one look at Skinner’s return, straightened
fast enough for spines to crack, and called Assistant Director Scully
of the FBI who now glared at them from the other side of the bars.

	The bikers were in another cell, for which Skinner was exceedingly
grateful, since Krycek insisted on cuddling close and blowing kisses
to the other men. Skinner had to slap his hand a couple of times from
wandering but that didn’t slow Krycek down from playing with fire.

	"It was a simple misunderstanding," Skinner told Scully. She put
her hands on her hips and shifted to the other foot.

	"You and him, in a biker bar, is no misunderstanding," she quickly
threw back.

	"Don’t I get a lawyer?" Krycek complained. Scully turned her glare
on to him.

	"And which charge over the past forty years would you like to plea
bargain for first?" she asked with saccharin politeness.

	"Never mind," Krycek sank back onto the bench next to Skinner. They
looked up at Scully like two little boys brought before the school
principal. She shook her head in disbelief.

	"Most men at least have enough sanity to take their mid-life crisis
out on an affair with a twenty year old bimbo, not pick fights at a
biker bar. Go home," she ordered them. She turned and stalked out of
the holding pen, gesturing to the guard to release them.

	"Were we just told to leave town or else?" Krycek asked Skinner.

	"Home, Alex!" Skinner said forcefully.

	The burger joint was in full swing as kids 18-25 danced to the juke
box, ate burgers and downed cokes and beers. The music was loud, the
waitresses rude and the burgers the best greasy burgers Skinner had
ever had. Skinner wasn’t sure if felt more out of place at the biker
bar or here with the kids. Krycek had watched the young adults
dancing for a while before beginning to compare dancing styles
throughout the decades and in different countries.

	"You don’t dance!" Skinner said in disbelief.

	"Of course I do," Krycek assured him. "I got dragged around to
state functions most of my life by Smokey. He didn’t want me to
embarrass him so he sent me to finishing school when I was 17. I’ve
danced with queens, and I don’t mean Fox."

	Skinner threw a fry at him.

	"There’s something to be said for formal dancing," Krycek waxed
with a waving of his wrist. "Not like this," he gestured toward the
bodies jerking and jumping in time with the rock music. "This is fun,
yes, but nations have negotiated contracts over a perfectly timed
waltz. These kids wouldn’t know what to do with a 3-4 beat if it hit
them in the face."

	As if cued, the next song came on the juke box. A few hearty souls
tried to dance but soon sat down.

	"See?" Krycek crowed. He stood up just as the door opened. "Not
only do schools nowadays not even teach the basics," he said loudly,
drawing attention. "They don’t even teach civilized behavior." Some
of his audience began to hoot and cheer him on. Krycek turned to his
admirers as Scully watched in disbelief.

	"This, boys and girls, is a 3-4 beat," he pointed over his shoulder
to the juke box. "1,2,3,1,2,3, get it? It’s a waltz. You don’t drag
your partner over the floor, you ask her politely for a dance. May I
have this dance?" he asked with a small bow, holding out his hand to
Scully. Scully looked askance at Skinner who shrugged helpfully.
Dubious, she placed her hand in Krycek’s. Several of the young men
whistled and cat-called.

	"You take her GENTLY into your arms," he instructed them. "Do NOT
grab her, nor do you paw her and hump her like the dogs you are." The
boys boo-ed and the girls shrieked, yelling their agreements.

	"You’re drunk," Scully accused.

	"Slightly buzzed," Krycek conceded. "Your left hand gently holds
her right," he continued as Scully placed her hand in his palm. "Do
not mangle her delicate fingers, allow them to simply rest in your
palm. Your right hand rests on her waist, NOT her butt," he glared at
the young men who howled in protest.

	"Yeah!" a young lady yelled and knocked her boyfriend’s shoulder.

	Scully’s left hand rested on Krycek’s right shoulder. She was
suddenly conscious of the fettered strength in him, his corded
muscles ready to spring at any given moment. Her face flushed as a
heat raced through her. Krycek took a step forward and she
automatically followed. Scully was shocked to discover that he
actually could dance, and gracefully at that. She and her sister and
brothers had learned as children; Navy bases had formal cotillions
quite often.

	He glided her across the floor, counting out loud for his rowdy
audience.

	"1,2,3,1,2,3, see? It may be a new and popular song, but the beats
haven’t changed since the first heart began to beat." He focused his
attention on their feet, exaggerating the steps for the young people
to follow.

	One of the girls jumped to her feet and dragged her boyfriend out
onto the floor. She thumped him into straightening his back and
getting their hands in the proper positions. They faltered on the
first step as she stepped forward instead of back and got her toes
squished. She stopped and took a close look at Krycek and Scully.
Krycek obligingly stopped and started over again so that the young
lady could see.

	Several other couples reluctantly stood up, the young men figuring
that is this dark and dangerous dude in the leather jacket could do a
hokey dance with the first beautiful woman that walks in the door,
they could do it, too. One girl insisted that her boyfriend ask her
properly for a dance. He reddened as his friends shouted and laughed,
but eventually held out his hand with a mumbled plea.

	The waitresses and the cook watched in disbelief and began to
wonder about possible food poisoning behind the behavior of the
Stepford Children.

	Skinner watched from their table with amusement. He knew that
Krycek had a few beers in him, or he would never be attempting to
give a dancing lesson nor would he be waltzing Scully around the
floor. In public. Skinner had blackmail material. Too bad he didn’t
have a camera, Mulder would never believe it. The song ended and he
noticed that Scully was a bit flustered as she stepped away. He
really couldn’t blame her, Krycek was a sight to behold when he was
being charming. He wondered if Scully would ever overcome her hatred
for Krycek; with all the sparks they generate, the bed would probably
ignite.

	She sat next to Skinner and took his iced tea, gulping it.

	"How’d you know we were here, Dana?" Skinner asked.

	"I didn’t actually think that you’d go home right away, so I had
you tailed," she admitted. "Your shadow thought that your being in
here was strange enough to tell me about it."

	Krycek sat down and lowered his head onto the table with a groan.
Scully reached into her purse and took out a small bottle,
deliberately slamming it onto the table.

	"Ow!" Krycek winced and grabbed his head in pain. "You’re a cruel
woman, Scully," he informed her as he delicately opened the bottle
and shook out a couple of aspirin.

	"What are you doing, Walter?" she asked him. Skinner signaled for
another glass of tea.

	"I needed some down time. Alex thought he’d be able to help me find
trouble."

	"You don’t need help," she said. Both men chuckled.

	"That’s what he said," Krycek told her.

	"Un-huh. And what does Mulder think about this?" she waved a finger
between the men.

	"It was either this or kill Dominic and Alex."

	Skinner told her about their run-in earlier in the day. When he was
done, Scully was frowning in confusion.

	"I thought you were with Emilia?" she asked Krycek. He took a sip
of iced tea and made a face.

	"I have fun with Emilia," he said. "I’m not ‘with’ anyone. Can you
really picture me going steady?"

	She honestly couldn’t. "And she doesn’t mind that you see other
people?"

	Krycek looked at her steadily. "Not that I need to answer to you,
but Emilia doesn’t need an excuse to enjoy her body or anyone else’s
body, and neither do I. If you really want to know what she thinks
about it, you should ask her, not me. I like sex, so does she.
Neither of us have a problem asking for what we want, or even setting
up a fantasy scene. It’s fun." His expression dared her to ask
another personal question. She didn’t.

	"My turn," he said. "Have you ever had sex with more than one
person at a time?"

	Scully flushed and avoided looking at Skinner. She shook her head.

	"You should try it," Krycek advised her. "A lot less performance
pressure, more possibilities, no one dreaming of white weddings, just
a night of mindless orgasms induced by the man or woman of your
choice."

	Skinner could feel Scully tensing beside him as she studied her
glass. Krycek was deliberately baiting her.

	"Alex," he warned.

	"What? I’d like to see her get off that pedestal for once and join
the living."

	Scully abruptly pushed back and jumped up, racing out of the diner.
The other customers watched her and then looked back at the men
before going about their business.

	"That was incredibly cruel, Alex," Skinner informed him. "You might
as well have hauled off and put a knife in her gut, it would have
hurt her less."

	"Bullshit, Walter, I’m tired of her constantly judging me! She’s
waiting with baited breath for me to fuck up, she practically has an
orgasm just thinking about arresting me. She’s always been a bitch
with me, has been from day one, and nothing I do pleases her!" he
smacked the table, rattling the glasses.

	"Why should pleasing Scully concern you?" Skinner asked quietly.
Krycek waited for a moment before stomping out of the diner. Skinner
puffed out a breath. Maybe he should just go home before a leg
followed both the feet he had already shoved into his own mouth
during the course of the day.

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

{To follow Krycek, click here. If the thought of Krycek and Scully
doing the horizontal mambo disturbs you, just continue with this
story. I will expect some major cyber-chocolate for this! –B.}

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

	"...and then he left. I don’t know where he went to. I tried to
call Scully, but she isn’t answering her phone, and she didn’t answer
her door when I went over." Skinner looked into the water, flicking
his finger at his reflection. Mulder put his arms around him, pulling
Skinner back against his chest. He cupped some of the warm water and
poured it over Skinner’s chest.

	"I’ll call her tomorrow," he said, pressing his mouth to Skinner’s
shoulder. "Let Alex cool down. I don’t think that you said anything
wrong, he gets a little one-tracked and sometimes needs a fact shoved
into his face before he takes notice."

	"Must be genetic," Skinner muttered. Mulder splashed him and
reached down to grab Skinner between the legs.

	"Apologize!" Mulder insisted as he squeezed. Water sloshed over the
side of the tub as the men wrestled.

	"Make me," Skinner murmured, staring into Mulder’s hazel eyes.
Mulder reached between Skinner’s legs again as Skinner eased back
against his chest.

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

	Just after midnight, Skinner put his glasses on to read the letter
he had forgotten about. He frowned, a little confused.

	"What?" Mulder asked sleepily. He curled around Skinner’s hip and
snuggled his face against Skinner’s warm waist.

	"I call Washington tomorrow. Washington State. I have something
waiting at my father’s old lawyer’s office for me. From an uncle in
Hungary. I’ll have them send it down here to Harry’s office."

	"I didn’t know you had relatives in Hungary," Mulder murmured.

	"Neither did I. Although whether or not you could say he was still
in Hungary is semantics. He’s dead."



End part 15.