TITLE: Weighing In - Part 2 (Parts 9-16)

(Part 9 of 32 parts)

NAME: frogdoggie

E-MAIL: frogdoggie@hotmail.com

CATEGORY: SRA

RATING: NC-17. M/SK. This story contains very explicit slash i.e. m/m sex. So, if you don’t like that type of thing - STOP NOW! Forewarned is forearmed. Proceed with caution.

SUMMARY: Skinner and Mulder discuss Walter's weekend with Scully - amongst other pressing issues, and Fourth of July plans make matters even more interesting. The action here takes place immediately after "Lifting Weights" and "Weights and Measures". This story is part of the "Baton Rouge" series. Obviously you may want to read the series to understand this narrative. The "Baton Rouge" series can be found at: https://www.squidge.org/3wstop.

FEEDBACK - YES PLEASE, AND THANK YOU SIR, CAN I HAVE ANOTHER? Comments, suggestions and healthy debate are always welcome. Flames? They only serve to warm my body and mind.

TIMESPAN/SPOILER WARNING: Sixth Season before Two Fathers/One Son I think - in my timeline. So it would be safe to say any ep ever that appears before that two-parter would constitute a spoiler warning. It's also going to be obvious that I've changed the series timeline to fit into the Baton Rouge universe. I am trying to catch up with Season Six events now, however. We're rolling towards getting the X-Files back. Sort of. Oh - and still NO SR819 when that lamentable episode comes up! So, I've still kind of reinvented the mytharc for my AU as well. Sorry if all that bothers you - feel free to go elsewhere if it does. I won't mind.

KEYWORDS: story slash Skinner Mulder Scully NC-17

DISCLAIMER: Please see Part 1.

"All right, look. Yeah, you're right. I...well...crap. I know it's idiotic but you know how these things work. You go home to see your parents and no matter how old you are, no matter what you've accomplished or done in your life..."

"You're little Walter and there's nothing you can do about it?" I query, eyebrow raised.

"I guess I can be thankful she never called me Wally," he sighs, shaking his head again. "But, sure - that about sums it up, Mulder. A part of Esther will always see me as I was at about Roger's age I think. I...it's hard for me to deal with that idea sometimes. I feel like a jerk when it affects me. But, I can't help that it does affect me and I can't help feeling like a jerk when it does. Somehow...the idea of fucking..." he lets his voice trail off.

"Say 'making love', maybe it will help," I struggle not to smirk.

"Whatever. Come on - you know what I mean."

"Ok. Yeah. I understand what you're saying believe me. It's the reason I think I'd never take you home to see my mother. I'm sure I couldn't deal with it and she'd...well it wouldn't be a pretty picture. But, listen - I didn't get the idea Esther was treating you like a child, Walter. I didn't even get the idea she disliked me."

"We haven't been here that long," Walter growls. "And as far as disliking you...you saw that damn cot out there. You know why she put that out there, don't you? She...she's not willing to admit I'm sleeping with you. It was a non-verbal way for her to show her disapproval."

"Are you serious? I just thought she put it out there to keep the boys from asking questions. And how do you know Sylvia didn't put it out there anyway"

He stops, his brow knitted together, to consider those arguments. I watch him wrestle with logic versus his roiling emotions. I watch him realize he may be overreacting and then I watch him try to admit he might be wrong.

"Ok, yeah. I suppose you could be right about either one of those ideas. They do seem to want to work up to breaking this to the boys gently."

"Exactly. So, I think we have to give Esther the benefit of the doubt."

He stares at me and then nods, rocking back to lean against the vanity again. He crosses his arms in front of him.

"Damn Mulder...I...I really am sorry. I shouldn't be letting this get to me and I shouldn't be taking it out on you...or my family either for that matter."

I walk forward and sidestep his legs, parking my butt next to him against the vanity. I put my arm around his shoulder.

"Walter...this is a lot to go through. I know that. It's an awkward, uncomfortable issue that disrupts even the most well-adjusted families. Finding out a son or daughter is gay or...or bisexual or whatever can be very traumatic. I think we just all have to keep our heads...relax, and do the best we can."

He sighs and leans into me a little. I rub his arm.

"Yeah. I guess I just need a little time. I...and I'm sorry I just don't feel like...well I don't feel..."

"You're too tense that's why. Don't worry about it. When you're ready I'm sure I'll be here. I'll be here even if you aren't ready," I whisper, bending close and kissing him on the cheek. He smiles a little. I pat his back and get up.

"We'd better get unpacked and back up to the house," I conclude.

"Right," he breathes out. I cross to the bathroom door, open it and return to my suitcase.

When we both get back to the bed, Walter gives me my key to the cottage. There are two, one for each of us. I pocket it and we both turn to unpacking with a vengeance. Before too long I've almost got my stuff completely stowed away. I put my gun in the night stand drawer, deciding once again to opt out of carrying it into the main house. Walter keeps his on, mindful that he did promise the boys to show it to them later as well as keeping to the more strict adherence to the regulations again.

He's just taking the last of his articles out of his suitcase. I drop my running shoes to the floor and bark a loud laugh when I see him step back, his hands full.

"What?" he rumbles, raising an eyebrow. He's standing there holding a container of Metamucil in one hand and a bottle of top shelf bourbon in the other.

I start to laugh harder.

"Mulder..." he growls.

"I'm sorry...I'm sorry. It's just the...the juxtaposition of those two items. The...the suggestion of...of...hell I don't know what that connotes. But it's a hell of an image," I reply, gesturing towards his hands. "If you were a painting the title would be something like "The AD's Assistants."

I can tell he wants to laugh but he'd rather die than do it. Walter has really lethal self-control when he needs it. He's calling that control up right now out of the very core of his being. He delivers his reply in perfect AD speak and it's a marvel to behold.

"Let me elucidate for you, Agent Mulder. This...." he says, holding up the Metamucil. "This is for loosening up in the morning. This...." he continues. "This is for loosening up at night...or any other fucking time I want to get loose. Now...any questions?"

I can't answer at all. I'm helpless with choking laughter. Tears are squishing out of my eyes and trickling down my cheeks. All I can do is shake my head.

"Good," Walter nods and he proceeds to take both the booze and the 'fiber supplement' into the bathroom.

A sudden thought occurs to me! Bourbon! Jesus. I almost forgot! I brought that bottle of dinner wine. I rummage around in the bottom of my duffel and come out with the paper bag. I set the bottle on the night stand, take my running shorts out of the bag and throw them in a drawer. Walter comes back out of the bathroom. I'm under control now so it's a lot more easy to speak.

"The bourbon made me remember. I brought your mother a bottle of wine," I gesture towards the bottle as I pick up my duffel and toss it into the corner of the room next to the closet.

Walter's brow furrows. Oh shit now what? He clears his throat.

"Mulder...my mother doesn't drink. She...uh...she's an ex-alcoholic. We...got out of the habit of having booze around, I guess. It's why I automatically put the bourbon in the can instead of taking it up to the house."

"Oh...I..."

"Yeah. I'm sorry. I never even thought to mention it. But...she won't mind if you want to bring the wine on up for dinner. You, and I and Sylvia can drink it."

"Shit. I don't want to do that...I mean not if it's going to be bad form."

"Don't worry about it. Sylvia's husband brings beer when he comes out here. My mother's not going to mind."

"Ok. I'll bring it along then," I reply, nodding.

Great. I'm going to look like a fool I think with a sinking feeling. I guess Walter didn't think a bottle of wine was something I was going to bring. Or maybe he didn't think I'd bring a gift at all. That idea annoys me a little too. Well, it can't be helped. I don't want to get angry over something so minor league. I'll just try to present it without looking like a total jackass.

Hard on the heels of all those thoughts comes the feeling yet again that there are so many things I don't know about Walter's family. I still feel shame over it. If I'd bothered to care about finding out I wouldn't be caught flat-footed here.

"Mulder, it's the thought that counts," Walter assures me quietly, patting me on the shoulder. "And I'm sorry. It should have occurred to me that you'd have enough class to bring a gift."

I smile wide, feeling like a heel and a king all at once. Walter claps me on the back.

"Come on, Agent Mulder. Your fan club awaits."

"Yeah, your nephews are great, Walter. Really nice kids."

"They're special, Mulder. I...I love them like they were my own boys. I can tell they like you. I'm really glad about that too. It'll mean a lot to me if they can accept you...well...as family."

"It'll mean a lot to me too, Walter, " I reply quietly. "Really."

He nods and places a large hand on the back of my neck, stroking the nape a little.

"Thanks, babe," he replies. "Now, we'd better haul ass. They're gonna think we got lost on our way back."

"Sounds like a plan," I reply, smiling. He drops his hand and we both head for the cottage door.

xXx

The rest of the afternoon was spent doing something I hadn't done in ages - nothing. Well...whiling away the hours just getting acquainted with Sylvia, Walter's nephews and Esther. No mutants, aliens, conspiracy or bureaucratic bullshit in sight. Walter seemed to appreciate the last idea a whole lot. I watched him relax a little bit at a time as the afternoon played out.

After we parked the Jeep in the 3-car garage, I did present my bottle of wine. It was received graciously and with no hint that it wasn't appreciated. Sylvia saw to that also when she thanked me for choosing a good year and took the bottle in to chill it in the refrigerator.

We all took our iced tea out to the screened in back porch and watched the sunlight reflect off the creek. It was so quiet. Beautiful. After a few more probing questions about what fascinating cases Agent Mulder and his partner, Agent Scully have solved for the Bureau, the boys grew bored with the adult company and opted for going fishing off the dock. Sylvia acquiesced, telling them to be careful and if they were going to hare off somewhere else to let her know first. They hurried away to collect their fishing tackle, leaving us sitting on the porch.

The conversation turned to adult things. The arts, movies, sports, some politics, local Chesapeake Bay lore. Esther tells about building Judge's Point. It turns out the house is named after the location. It was built by Esther and Walter, Sr. as a getaway - someplace to escape to when the business back in Pennsylvania got to be too overwhelming. As it turns out, Walter's father came from this area originally so the creek and the bay were like a refuge for him, for them both.

Walter and Sylvia engage in some additional gentle brother/sister teasing. I can see real love between them hidden behind the good-natured goading. Esther enters into it, sometimes taking Sylvia's side and sometimes Walter's. I get a sense of Esther Skinner as we talk. She is tough. She's had to be because she's been a woman in the world of business for years. It appears Walter's father died just before Walter entered the FBI Academy. So, she's been head of the family business since then.

Esther's got an iron will forged from old New England stock. She's opinionated, and doesn't back down in a debate. But I think she's...fair. She seems willing to listen and if you can best her in debate she respects you. I sense a gentle side despite her reputation for being 'The Dragon Lady'. I have to wonder what she did to Walter and Sylvia in the past to make them see her as harsh and unyielding so much of the time. She's not coming across that way this afternoon. Oh, sure, she's tough like I said...but not abrasively so. She may be on her best behavior but somehow I think you get the real Esther Skinner whether you want her or not.

She's nothing, if not, honest and blunt.

I may never find out why Walter and Sylvia both love and hate her, although I'd like to know. It would help me in further understanding Walter. I have to think it had something to do with her drinking. I certainly know how that can damage a family.

Eventually the discussion peters out and we're all sitting and sipping our iced teas in companionable silence. Sylvia and Esther are watching the boys and I'm watching...Walter. He's removed his sports jacket and hung it up over the back of the chaise. His muscular biceps ripple as he shifts to sip from his iced tea glass. He's magnificent really. Tanned, toned, and as sexy as hell stretched out on the chaise lounge next to the chair where Sylvia is sitting. She has her feet up on a small hassock. Esther is sitting next to her, her feet up on another small hassock. I'm seated next to Walter on the opposite side of the chaise lounge. I've got my feet propped up on a straight-backed chair. All of us have taken our shoes off.

I continue to let my eyes surreptitiously rove over Walter's profile. My eyes naturally fall slowly lower, down his muscular chest and abdomen, past his groin....until I reach that tell-tale bulge in his khakis. Oh oh. Bad idea. I feel a pleasant warmth pool in my groin. I snatch my eyes away and take a long swig of my iced tea, draining it. I set the glass on the floor and refocus my attention on the fantastic view over the creek and Sylvia's boys casting their lines into the water. I let my mind wander until Esther breaks into my reverie.

"Fox, can I ask you a question?"

"Sure, Esther, go ahead."

"I notice Walter and Sylvia call you Mulder? Do you prefer to be called Mulder rather than Fox?"

"Uh...well I just got used to it I guess. Agent Scully and I call each other Scully and Mulder. I guess I've just gotten into the habit," I reply.

"I see. Well...if you don't mind I'd like to call you Fox...I rather like it. It's distinctive."

I nod. "It is that," I chuckle. Well I guess I can live with her calling me Fox. After all - if it'll help smooth the way here. "And I don't mind," I add, smiling at her. I sit back and sip some more of my iced tea.

"Walter tells me you've been partnered with Agent Scully for six years," she observes, setting her nearly empty glass of iced tea down on the small table that's right at her elbow. She turns to watch me, her face neutral.

"Yes, that's correct," I nod, looking past Walter and Sylvia to talk to their mother.

"She's a doctor too right, Mulder?" Sylvia asks with interest.

"Forensic pathologist," Walter interjects, taking a sip of his iced tea.

"Right," I confirm.

"She sounds very professional," Esther adds, sitting back again to stare off over the creek.

"She's the best to be totally frank. I...I don't know how I'd manage without her working with me. We'd certainly have a lower solve rate," I reply.

Esther turns again and raises an eyebrow.

"It sounds like you appreciate her a great deal."

"I owe her my life, several times over actually. She's saved it more than once in the line of duty," I answer sincerely.

"It's nice to hear a man talk about their female colleague that way. Some of Roger's fellow firemen can be...well there's still a certain amount of resistance to women in the firehouse. Sometimes it can get a little rough. The women aren't appreciated for what they can do," Sylvia adds.

"Agent Scully is a crack agent. A credit to the Bureau," Walter adds catching his mother's eye.

Esther nods. "I have to say I find all that fascinating. I also think it's about time women got some recognition in that organization," she states matter-of-factly. "The Bureau's been an old boys school for entirely too long."

Walter rumbles a chuckle and sits back, relaxing a little.

Esther gives her son an accusatory look. It's not completely serious however and he knows it. She shakes her finger at him.

"Don't you laugh, Walter Sergei Skinner. It's up to you to set an example when it comes to equal rights for all your employees."

"Oh I treat them as equals all right. I'm equally as hard on both Agent Scully and Agent Mulder," Walter replies, grinning a little. "I don't cut either one of them any slack," he adds.

"I can vouch for that being the truth," I chuckle, running my hand though my hair. "Walter is very fair when it comes to being a hard-nosed AD. Fair...but he doesn't suffer fools," I confirm.

Esther nods chuckling a little herself.

"Good. He wouldn't be a Skinner if he did," she replies. "Besides, I would think the idea of equal treatment is particularly important to Walter now...under the circumstances," she adds.

Esther's remark is met with total silence.

Walter blinks and then his face changes from relaxed good humor to stone in a matter of seconds. Sylvia swallows and looks at her mother. I'm not sure if Esther meant to say what she did but the bomb dropped and now we have to deal with the fallout.

"Are you referring to...to my sexual orientation? That being gay should make me more sensitive towards that type of discrimination on the job?" Walter asks stiffly, setting his empty iced tea glass on the floor.

"Walter..." I begin to interrupt. But Walter plunges on, ignoring me and not giving his mother a chance to answer.

"Because if you are, Mother, you must realize my...Mulder and my...sexual orientation is a different situation. Homosexuality and treating women with equality are two totally different issues at the Bureau," Walter begins, his voice tightly controlled.

Esther looks contrite. Ok. Maybe she didn't quite mean for what she said to come out the way it did. It had after all, come on the heels of a bantering remark. A little mother/son teasing. But her words are just another manifestation of the issues that are bound to come up this weekend. Everyone is going to be making these unconscious slips as well as trying to second-guess if what they're about to say is politically correct. It's not an easy situation to be in. I'm torn between keeping my mouth shut and trying to play peacemaker. My Mulder motor mouth wins out. I start to say something further to smooth things over, but Esther speaks again.

"Yes. I realize it's different," she replies, her voice clipped. She speaks quietly but her tone and expression warn that this should probably be the end of the conversation for now.

At least the public conversation. I have a feeling Walter is really dying to have a private chat with his mother. He'd like to deal with this situation right now. He's the kind of man who likes to meet a situation head on. Being part of an unresolved situation - unfinished business - is still something he finds objectionable in the extreme. It's a control issue and Walter still wrestles with that issue of control. Taking the reins and settling a matter is a way to maintain control. And he's very good at taking the reins.

Walter's tired right now. About a lot of things - but right at this moment he's tired of having to pussyfoot around his family, the Bureau, his friends and the rest of the world over who he chooses to love. If he could just have one place, outside our own little world of his apartment or some damn motel room where we could be ourselves I think he could breathe again. But right now he's choking and it's making my heart ache to watch him.

Walter starts to speak again but he's interrupted by two excited boys' voices.

"Mom, look what we caught!" Ben exclaims as he and Roger come barreling up toward the screened in porch's door. Roger's holding a string full of nicely sized striped bass.

"Oh my...I think the question of what to have for dinner is solved," Sylvia exclaims, trying to hide the tension in her voice.

Ben opens the screen door and both boys come onto the porch. They stare at all of us for a moment. These kids are obviously not slow on the uptake it seems. They sense something's going on with the adults. But they're willing to shrug it off in the face of their mother's recognition of their prowess as fishermen.

"Want us to help you clean them, Mom?" Roger asks magnanimously.

"Sure, you two can help me fix the whole dinner if you'd like to help," she replies, glancing at her watch. "It's about time I started it. Nana, Uncle Walter and Mr. Mulder can visit longer that way."

"Ok, Mom," Ben replies, nodding.

"Great. Go put the fishing tackle away and then come back in through the garage door. I'll take the fish," Sylvia replies, getting up. The boys make a quick exit after Roger hands his mother the fish. Sylvia holds them away from her gingerly and smiles wanly at me.

"Mulder...consider yourself lucky you're not doing this tonight."

"Me?" I answer raising an eyebrow.

Esther clears her throat and looks at me.

"Yes, I don't know if Walter told you but we have a tradition here regarding dinner. We take turns. Tonight is Sylvia's turn. Tomorrow night is Walter and by default...your turn. I'll be doing the Sunday's Fourth of July meal - the steamed crabs and oysters."

"Yes, we gorge and then we all drive into Reedsville for the fireworks," Sylvia adds.

"Oh I see. Well, Sylvia...I could trade off with you tonight..." I offer, standing up and moving around the chaise lounge. Yeah...talking with Walter and his mother right now doesn't seem like a fantastic proposition.

"No, no...that's fine. The boys really do want to show off their dad's fish cleaning instructions. So, I'd better let them try to impress me," she laughs gently. "I'll call you all when it's ready."

"Thank you, dear," Esther nods as Sylvia smiles and leaves us alone on the deck.

We all stare at each other. I sit down in the chair that Sylvia just vacated. I figure I can act as a buffer if necessary. Esther and Walter have identical 'I'm sucking a lemon' expressions on their faces. I'm dangerously close to laughing at them out of a mixture of nervousness and reaction to their faces. I clear my throat.

"So...uh...it looks like the weather will be nice all weekend," I begin. Oh piss on it. Talk about your lame conversational opening. Walter's quiet voice draws our attention a second after I speak.

"Mom...we've got until Tuesday here...are we going to dance around the issue the whole time?" Walter interrupts quietly.

Esther sighs.

"Uh...hey...I can still go help with dinner..." I interject, making a last ditch effort to allow Walter and his mother their privacy.

Walter reaches out and takes my hand in his, holding it tight. He looks in my eyes and the message is clear. Stay. For better or worse this is the moment of truth and I need you here for support. I nod slightly.

"No. Stay," he replies, turning to his mother and brandishing our joined hands.

"Mother...I can't...I can't deny this...my love for Mulder. I want...I want to give you the time to understand but if this whole weekend is going to be this tense I..."

"Walter...I'm trying, really. It's just that...and please, Fox...this is nothing against you. I can tell you seem like a fine person. A very good man. But...a man," she blusters looking at me. She turns to her son and addresses him again. "I mean, Walter...you were married for 17 years..." she lets her voice trail off.

I can see that she's trying to reconcile her previous conceptions of her son with the man sitting before her now. The Walter Skinner who seemed straight and was married to Sharon, with the man who is now professing his love for me. If it took Walter years to admit his sexual preference to himself and finally act on it, it's not hard to imagine how Esther is finding this all hard to believe. After all, Walter went out of his way to stay in the closet. To hide that side of his life from everyone, even his family. So, I do have some sympathy for Esther here. Walter's confusion has led to more confusion and now it's going to take some understanding on both their parts to straighten it all out.

"And my marriage ended in divorce because I couldn't face the fact that I really wanted a man and not a woman," Walter whispers, releasing my hand.

Esther folds her arms across her chest. Walter gets up out of the chaise lounge and goes to sit on the hassock Sylvia had her feet on. He leans close to his mother, his hands on his knees, and studies her face.

"I know...I know you had great hopes for me and Sharon, Mom. I realize you wanted grandchildren...a grandson maybe...to carry on the family name. I know you're disappointed that didn't happen. Disappointed in that and a lot of things I did or didn't do - like going to Vietnam and then going to the FBI Academy and not taking over the business after...after Father died."

"Walter...I..."

 "Let me finish, Mom, please. You know it's...it's difficult for me to...to get things like this out."

Esther nods. I want to go to Walter so badly and hold him now I can feel the muscles in my arms twitching. He swallows a little and plunges on. Both Esther and I are a captive audience - captivated by this intense, strong and proud man spilling his guts and practically begging for compassion from the woman who gave birth to him.

"I know finding out I'm...that I'm gay is probably another disappointment for you...but...I just wish you could understand that for the first time in my damned life...I'm happy. Mulder...Mulder has made me happy, Mom. I'm...I'm not alone anymore. I just want you to try to learn to accept that and accept us as a couple so that I don't have to feel like an outsider when I come home. Can you try to do that, Mom? Can you?" he finishes, pinning her eyes.

Esther takes a deep breath. I can see her eyes are moist but she's not going to cry. Walter's mother has that iron control as well. She straightens herself and puts her hand on Walter's hand where it rests on his knee.

"Walter...I know we've talked about my disappointment in you before. I know I hurt you very badly at one time by expressing those feelings. I never really meant them. Those were bad times...before...before I dealt with my drinking. I hoped...I hoped we were past that now. Son...I'm very proud of you...I love you and I know you've been unhappy in some unfathomable way for a very long time."

Walter ducks his head, "Mother...I..."

"Walter, you....you must know I love you," Esther adds, her voice almost cracking. It's filled with a longing to make amends to a son she may have wronged grievously in the past.

"Yes...I know you love me. I'm...I'm sorry. It's just that...you're right about the hurt. It runs deep sometimes. I...I still have trouble dealing with it," he replies bluntly.

Esther strokes his hand, "And I will have guilt to last me the rest of my life over that, son. I can't say how sorry I am."

Walter looks up into his mother's eyes and I see tears in his as well. He nods but he can't say anything else. Some kind of silent understanding passes between mother and son. I hope it's Walter's forgiveness. I can't be sure but it seems to be all right because Esther nods and continues.

"I want you to be happy, Walter. If...if being with Fox is what's brought love into your life and brought you that kind of joy then...then I can try to celebrate that fact. But...you're going to have to give me time too, son. You must realize this is a lot for an old, conservative, New Englander to absorb. I'm doing the best I can...I want to do better and I am going to try."

"Esther...I appreciate you inviting me down here. I think...I think that shows your willingness to give me the benefit of the doubt," I interject quietly.

"Well I appreciate your saying that, Fox. I did want to meet you," she nods in acknowledgment of my comment. She takes her hand off Walter's hand and turns her attention fully on me. "I want to meet anyone Walter is...is...well...let's not beat around the bush here - anyone Walter is courting. I mean that's what we're discussing here isn't it - a possible marriage?" she adds raising an eyebrow.

Walter straightens up and turns to glance at me.

"I think we're talking long-term relationship," he replies raising his eyebrows.

"I think that's accurate," I smile broadly at him. Walter smiles back, love for me showing plainly on his face.

Esther glances from me to Walter and grins a little.

"Well your intentions had best be honorable, Agent Mulder. If you make my son unhappy, there will be hell to pay," she blusters. I can tell it's just bravado and an attempt to play at acting tough to lighten the mood a little. The corner of Walter's mouth twitches up. He has the same idea.

"Yes, ma'am," I reply, nodding seriously.

She turns back to Walter. Walter locks eyes with her again. His face grows serious again. His eyes are as unprotected as I've even seen them. As open to his soul as when we're making love. He desperately wants to believe his mother is willing to understand. No matter what horrible things she said to him or did to him in the past he wants to believe that it is all in the past. He needs to believe that Esther has truly changed and there's hope for acceptance here. I'm practically holding my breath as well. I hope to hell she's going to do the right thing.

"Son...I'm going to try...honestly...I mean it," she finishes.

I let out my breath. Walter nods and then he shifts forward. As I watch, my hard as nails lover, the tough, ex-Marine and taciturn Assistant Director, lays his head on his mother's lap and hugs her waist tight. Esther reaches up and stokes the hair at the back of his head and I have to look away. Tears spring instantly into my eyes. The sight is too intense for me to watch.

"Um...if you'll excuse me...I need to...use the bathroom," I mumble, getting up from the chair. I swing my legs off the opposite side so as not to bump into Walter and exit the porch as quickly and quietly as possible. Neither Walter or Esther show any reaction that I'm leaving their company.

xXx

After going into the can to run cold water on my face and take a leak, I went into the kitchen and got in the way while Sylvia and the boys finished preparing dinner. I couldn't really answer Sylvia's raised eyebrows very well other than to shrug and mouth the words "It's ok," before the boys started peppering me with more questions about my adventures as a field agent. I told them about a really boring case where the UFO sightings turned out to be college students with laser lights and hot air balloons. It succeeds in making them lose interest temporarily in my exploits. I listen while they discuss everyday mom and son stuff. It's fun to listen in.

Esther and Walter turn up just after we have the dining room table set and are about to call them in for dinner anyway. Walter looks tired but more content. Esther looks about the same. Dinner, consisting of the bass, a large tossed salad, French bread, wine for Sylvia, Walter and I, and milk for Esther and the boys transpires uneventfully. Nothing about what happened on the back porch is even hinted at in the dinner conversation.

I help Sylvia clear the table, letting the boys off the hook so that they can go into the living room with Walter and Esther. It's dusk and as I start to take one of the last plates off the table my attention is drawn to the large windows that face the creek. The sun is setting over the trees and water and it's breathtaking. I watch transfixed as a heron soars past my line of sight.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Sylvia whispers at my elbow.

I turn to her and smile.

"Yeah, it is."

She nods and takes the plate from me.

"Why don't you go in and join Walter," she adds.

"Thanks, Sylvia. I think...I think this is going to work out, you know."

"I think so too. I'm going to talk to Mom later and find out what happened on the porch. It looks like things went smoothly but...I'll do mop-up if it's necessary," she replies with a wry twist of her mouth.

Walter's gruff laughter distracts us for a moment. We glance into the living room area. He's arm wrestling with Ben and feigning injury after letting him win. Ben is trying to tickle his side and Roger is laughing like hell.

"I don't think mop-up's going to be necessary," I remark, turning back to Sylvia.

"Evidently," she laughs, turning and leaving my side to go into the kitchen.

I make my way down to the living room and take a seat on the couch in back of where Walter and the boys are sitting on the floor around the low butcher block coffee table.

"I see Uncle Walter still can't arm wrestle," I observe archly.

"You mean you've beaten him."

"Several times," I nod, smirking at Walter.

"In a pig's eye. Didn't your mother ever tell you it's a sin to lie, Mulder?" he rumbles, cocking an eyebrow at me.

"Ok...you got me. No...I've never even tried. He'd probably break my arm off," I reply. Unless we were in bed I think. He'd let me hold him down and...cancel that thought. This is family time here. I chuckle. "I can't afford to lose my gun arm," I add.

"Wow! I almost forgot," Ben exclaims. "Uncle Walter, you promised..."

Esther, who has been working on a crossword puzzle while watching the boys and Walter, puts it aside.

"Promised what, Ben?"

"Uncle Walter promised he'd show us his new Smith and Wesson," Roger answers for his brother.

"Boys..." Sylvia interrupts coming into the living room. "You know what Dad and I said about guns."

"Ah, Mom. He was just going to show us. We aren't going to touch it," Ben replies.

"Ben, if your mother would prefer I didn't..."

Ben and Roger plead silently up into Sylvia's face. She sighs and goes to sit down in a chair across from them.

"All right...but then I want you all to do what we talked about. Roger needs to collect those lightning bugs to observe for his project.

"All right!" Ben enthuses. Roger smiles at his mother.

Esther leans forward a little.

"So, you're not carrying the Glock any longer? Good. I think the Smith and Weapon semi-automatic is a much better weapon."

I raise my eyebrow at her.

"The Glock was a good weapon. It's still my back-up," Walter replies, giving her his own raised eyebrow. He glances at me as he goes for his holster. "She'd say she's glad I bought American but that's not PC."

"Walter...you can be a trial sometimes," Esther replies with a quick laugh. There's love in her eyes however and Walter answers with a gruff chuckle. He takes his gun out and removes the clip. He sets the clip on the table, makes sure the safety's on, and holds the black gun out for both boys to see. It gleams in the living room lights.

"This is a Smith and Wesson semi-automatic. 9 MM," he states briefly. "Pretty much standard issue," he adds, turning it over.

Both boys lean close and examine the gun in Walter's hands. Ben looks up at me.

"Is your gun like this one, Mr. Mulder?"

"Almost. Mine is silver with a black grip."

"Did you ever shoot anyone with it?" Ben replies.

Sylvia clears her throat. "Ben...that's none of our business," she advises.

Ben looks over at her and then back at me.

"Sorry, Mr. Mulder."

"It's ok, Ben," I smile gently at him.

"All right. Show's over," Walter interjects, picking the clip up and inserting it back into the grip. He slips his gun into the holster, rises and rocks back to sit on the couch next to me. "Time for your bug hunt," he adds looking at the boys pointedly.

"Yeah, come on, Ben," Roger nods. "I bet we can find some peepers too."

"You want me to help?" Sylvia asks as the boys get up and head for the kitchen.

"Cool, yeah," Ben smiles. Sylvia smiles back and gets up to join them. "I think I have a second jar," she remarks. "And the 'Deep Woods Off'," she chuckles.

"Nana, Uncle Walter, Mr. Mulder...you want to help too?" Roger asks politely.

"No, dear, I'm thinking of going to bed soon. It's been a long and active day for me," Esther replies, smiling. "But have fun."

"I'll take a rain check guys," Walter replies. "It's been a long day for me too. I'm going to turn in early."

"Ditto. But thanks," I nod in return.

"Ok," Roger replies, walking quickly over to kiss his grandmother on the cheek. "Good night, Nana."

"Good night, Roger," Esther replies. Roger leaves her and Ben comes over to repeat the ritual.

"Good night, Uncle Walter, Mr. Mulder," Roger adds as he walks off towards the kitchen. Roger is obviously too old to kiss Walter on the cheek.

"Night, Roger," Walter and I chorus.

Ben however isn't quite as concerned with appearances. He darts over and gives Walter a quick hug. Walter hugs him back. "Night, buddy," he murmurs and then he lets him go.

"Night," Ben says as he scampers off after his brother. "Night, Mr. Mulder," he adds.

"Night, Ben," Walter replies.

Sylvia crosses to her mother and kisses her on the cheek as well.

"Night, Mom. I'll be up after a while."

"I will read for a little while," Esther smiles. "I'll probably be awake when you come up."

"All right," Sylvia nods. Sylvia's 'mop-up' remark comes back to mind as I realize she means to talk with her mother before retiring.

Walter and I stand when Sylvia comes over. She hugs Walter briefly but warmly and then to my surprise, hugs me too.

 "See you two in the morning," she adds, somewhat shyly.

"Night, sis," Walter rumbles a little self-consciously. I get the impression that he's accustomed to these displays of affection but not totally comfortable with them, outward appearances notwithstanding.

"Night, Sylvia," I smile.

Sylvia turns and makes her exit.

Esther watches them go and then stretches a little.

"Well...that is my cue to go up to bed. I need my beauty rest," she quips.

"Yeah, I'm beat. I'm going to turn in too," Walter agrees. "Mulder?"

"No argument there. I'm whacked. Sorry - I mean, yes, I need to get to bed as well."

"Enjoy your bourbon, gentlemen," Esther laughs gently. Walter barks a quick laugh at my raised eyebrow as well.

"My mother could work for the Bureau," Walter observes archly.

"Oh, I know you like a bourbon after dinner, Walter. And you know I know. It's fine. You don't have to hide it in the guest house. Bring it up here tomorrow night if you'd like. I won't mind."

"All right," he nods.

"Thank you, I'm sure I'll enjoy it," I add, nodding my head.

She smiles and rises out of the chair.

"Good night then," she nods. Walter walks to her side, and kisses her on the cheek. She hugs him as he does and then they part.

Esther walks away and heads off towards the wing of the house that comprises the bedrooms.

Walter turns to me and smiles a little.

"I think a bourbon does sound like a good idea. How about it?" he asks.

"Yeah. I could use a drink," I reply, sighing.

"No shit," Walter nods, patting me on the shoulder. "Let's go. Sylvia'll lock up."

"Ok," I reply, smiling. We head for the front door.

xXx

I towel off my face after washing it and exit the bathroom. Walter is already done cleaning up for bed. Both of us took a leak, flossed and brushed our teeth. Walter washed up first so he could get the glasses for our drinks. He took the bourbon out with him when he left the bathroom.

I enter the bedroom and observe him opening the bottle of bourbon over by the small table for two. The glasses are sitting on the table. Walter is wearing his 'tightie whities' this evening. I wore a pair of blue boxers today, just for variety, I guess. In any event, both of us are more comfortable and Walter looks mighty good as he unscrews the top of the liquor bottle. He pours a finger full of bourbon into both the glasses and then he sets the cap and the bottle down on the table.

"Here you go, babe," he rumbles, picking up a glass and extending it towards me.

I walk over and take the glass from him.

"Thanks," I reply.

He clinks his glass against mine.

"Skoal," he murmurs.

"Cheers," I reply.

He puts the glass to his lips, tilts his head back and swallows the whole thing without batting an eye. I sip mine cautiously, find it sufficiently smooth not to make me gag and knock back a healthy swig.

He smiles at my watering eyes.

"Smooth isn't it?"

"It's good," I nod, sipping at the bit that's left. Walter watches me finish it.

"More?" he asks.

"Nah...I think I'll quit while I'm ahead."

He smiles a little, "Yeah, me too."

He motions for me to hand him my glass and when I do he heads back into the bathroom. I watch him go, and shake my head a little. Ok...I thought maybe he would be a little more forthcoming...a little more talkative over our after dinner drink.

I hear water running as I pick up the bottle and cap it again. I put the bottle back down on the table and head over to the bed. There's a 19 inch TV on the dresser that sits on what I've decided will be my side of the bed. I pick up the remote and toy with it. No. As much as I want to turn on the tube and zone out I have two problems with the idea.

One problem is I think my man Walter wants to talk - his shortness over the booze notwithstanding. He's got that tight look on his face that says there are still things he needs to discuss here. Maybe he just wants to confirm that I think everything's going to be ok. Maybe there are still things he's apprehensive about this weekend with his family and wants to run them past me.

There's also still the niggling suspicion in my mind that there's a subtext under what's being said here so far about his sexuality that I can't quite put my finger on. There are more gears meshing in Walter's mind over the issue of homosexuality than just whether his family is going to accept our relationship.

I've noticed that every time he mentions Scully's name in conversation there's an odd hoarseness to his voice. As if he's trying to clear his throat in embarrassment. I have to wonder what's going on there. If he doesn't cough up the information soon I'm going to have to bring it up with him. If he's got an underlying problem with our three way agreement here we need to get it out in the open. It could just be that he's doubly worried about how he would explain something like that to his family. It could also mean he has doubts about the whole arrangement. Needless to say I love the arrangement we have between the three of us. I want us to maintain it and nurture it. But if it's getting to be difficult for Walter...I...I'm not sure how I'm going to handle it. I sigh. Well...I guess the best thing I can do is wait him out - as always - and hope he's going to spill his guts so we can wrangle it all out between us.

That brings me to my second problem. I've been pretty much in a state of arousal all afternoon and evening. My boxer briefs are wet inside with the tell-tale evidence. Being in close proximity to Walter has that effect on my libido. He's just an incredible turn-on for me and things are getting more than a little tense right now. I can tell though that unfinished business makes the prospect of me getting any a dim one. But damn I want his cock. God, I'm such a slut sometimes. I really have to learn to show some restraint I guess. I mean he's a stud but even studs need some downtime. Hell...I really shouldn't complain. He's usually more than willing to go at the drop of a hat.

I shrug a little and set the remote on the night stand. I strip off my boxers and toss them on the end of the bed. Ok. Hope springs eternal - what can I say? I turn down the comforter, climb into bed under the sheet and blanket, and settle back against the pillows to wait for Walter to return.

I hear the toilet flush. Walter comes back out and notices that I'm not watching the TV.

"No box tonight?" he asks with a raised eyebrow.

"Not tonight. I am kind of tired. You mind?" I ask quizzically.

"No," he shakes his head. "No problem. The AC in here ok for you?" he asks as he makes his way around the room, locking up.

"It's fine," I confirm.

He nods and completes checking the patio door. When he's done with that he turns off all the lights except the one in the bathroom and the one on the night stand next to his side of the bed. He cracks the bathroom door and then makes his way over to the bed. He takes off his glasses and places them on the night stand next to his cell phone, wallet, watch, ID, car keys and spare change. His gun is in the night stand drawer next to mine. He stares at the clock radio on my night stand.

"What do you say we be really decadent and not set the alarm?" I ask hopefully.

"You know...I kind of like that idea," he nods.

"I'll get up early anyway. I always do. I can wake you later if you want to sleep."

"Good deal," he agrees.

He hesitates for a moment, leaves his BVDs on and pulls back the covers. When he slips in he turns his back to me. Ok...I guess that's the definitive answer on the question 'Will Mulder get some?' I resign myself to my fate and attempt to tamp down my ardor. I shift over next to him, spooning up close. He doesn't protest and when I drape my arm over his waist he snuggles up closer and sighs. I kiss the back of his neck.

"It's ok," I whisper.

"Hmm?" he grunts.

"It's ok if you don't want to...uh..."

"Mulder..." he rumbles in exasperation.

"I don't mind is what I'm trying to say."

I know he's not going to say anything like 'Mulder, I'd rather cuddle tonight than fuck.' Or...'I think I'm too mentally and physically exhausted to get it up.' So, I'm going to give him an out. I know he can feel my cock against him and it's half hard as well as dampening the back of his BVDs. He's gotta know I want it and it's probably embarrassing the hell out of him that he doesn't feel like participating in a little one on one.

The way a partner handles this kind of situation can make all the difference in the world. Copping an attitude can make or break a relationship. The worst thing I can do right now is let my feelings of rejection and self-doubt about my desirability well up and cause me to hurt Walter by remarking on his disinterest in me sexually. And yeah...I have issues about my worthiness of Walter's love. A lot of issues. But I've been trying very hard to overcome those hang-ups because they're not constructive at all. I know rejection is not what's really going on here anyway. So, I try to stay supportive and squash that unproductive line of thought.

Walter grunts in agreement.

"You want to talk about it?" I murmur.

"Mulder, I'm beat. I really just want to sleep, all right?"

"All right," I mumble.

"All right," he echoes.

After a few seconds I throw in my last two cents.

"I think things are going ok. I don't think..."

He sighs hard and rolls over under my arm to face me.

"You don't give up do you?" he shakes his head in bemused annoyance.

I smile at him a little in the semi-darkness and stroke his cheek.

"Walter, I know something's still bothering you. I want to help, ok? I'm willing to listen if you want to talk about it."

He looks down for a moment and then back up into my eyes.

"I think it's just the day. It caught up with me that's all. Everything just...wore me out. The trip down here. The stress of anticipating what would happen. The...uh...discussion with my mother. I'm whacked, really - that's all. I am more hopeful about the whole matter. I just need to get some rest."

I study his face. I'm suspicious he's being evasive, but I can't be sure. Maybe that's what he's telling himself so he can drag himself out of whatever it is that's eating him. I have no idea. I'll have to give him the benefit of the doubt. I'll have to hope that he is ok and his mood is just a result of the trip fatigue, anxiety over the whole prospect of dealing with his family and the actual meeting of the minds that occurred this afternoon. I'll let this go for now. But, I make a mental note to stay alert and watch to see if this is really the situation at hand.

"Ok. Get some rest then. And for what it's worth. I think this is going to work out. I think your mother's a hell of a woman and I think she's going to make the effort to understand."

He does grin a little over that remark.

"Yeah, Esther surprised the hell out of me," he replies, nodding a little. "But believe me, it was a pleasant surprise for once...and I'm friggin' grateful. You know..." his voice falters.

"What?" I ask quietly.

"I do love her," he whispers, looking down.

"I'm glad. I can tell she loves you too," I reply, rubbing his shoulder. "Now...let's get you that rest. Turn over and assume the position."

He looks up and grins a little wider, nods and shifts over onto his side again. I snuggle close to his back and put my arm around his waist once more. This time he holds onto my forearm and relaxes back against me.

"Mulder?"

"Hmm?"

"I...I know you want it. I...I could...you know - jerk you off."

"Don't worry about it," I mumble, giving his back a light kiss.

"You sure?"

"Yeah. I'll be all right. I'm a big boy. I know you can't always get what you want," I reply, singing the last bit in imitation of Mick Jagger.

Walter chuckles gruffly, "Yeah, I can feel just how big a boy right now."

"I'll be fine. Go to sleep," I reply.

"Ok, babe. But...you're takin' a rain check."

"S'fine. G'night," I mumble, rubbing his stomach a little.

"Love you," he whispers barely audibly.

"Love you too," I whisper in return.

I hold him as his breathing evens out and he falls asleep. As he starts to snore lightly I feel myself drift off as well.

xXx

I'm not sure what wakes me up. I glance at the small clock radio. It's a little past midnight. I root around under the covers, seeking to snuggle back next to my bed buddy...and the bed's empty. I sit up in alarm and see Walter standing in front of the patio doors. He's opened the curtains and moonlight is streaming into the room. His figure is all pale shadows and sculpted black. He holds a glass of bourbon in his hand.

He must have had a nightmare is the first thought that runs through my mind. I didn't hear it though, so...maybe not follows the first thought. I run my hand through my hair and watch as he just stares out over the lawn and out towards the creek, sipping on the bourbon.

Finally I speak to him.

"You all right, big guy?" I whisper.

He drains the glass and sets it down on the small table next to him.

"Yeah...I...I just woke up, I guess. Couldn't get back to sleep," he shrugs. He doesn't turn however, preferring to still look out the patio door.

"A nightmare?" I query with concern.

"No...uh... not a nightmare."

"Come back to bed," I suggest. "I'll give you a massage," I offer.

He turns around and shakes his head.

"No...that's ok. I'm all right now. Let me just get the curtains and I'll be right there," he replies, running a hand over his scalp.

I lie back down and wait for him. He draws the curtains and then returns to his side of the bed. He sits down, swings his legs up again and lies flat on his back. I shift over and lie next to him, propped up on one elbow.

"You really ok?" I ask again, my voice tinged with worry.

"Yeah...fine," he nods. "G-night, babe," he adds, turning away from me onto his side. I frown a little. This isn't good. I wish to hell he'd level with me. I know something's up now. I mean what the fuck? I lie down flat, trying to struggle against my apprehension as I spoon close again. If I don't put the worry out of my mind I'll be the one not sleeping through the rest of the night. I still my mind and concentrate on Walter's warmth, his scent and his even breathing. I feel marginally more calm after a few moments.

"Night," I whisper, draping my arm over him again. He shifts close and grips my forearm to his stomach. I smile and kiss the back of his neck. He's quiet for a few moments and then he whispers my name.

"Mulder?"

"Yeah?"

"My father's ashes were scattered off Judge's Point. Sometimes...when I come back here...I...uh...it's the memories, you know. I have a little trouble sleeping," he murmurs.

Oh Jesus, I think, swallowing hard.

"Walter...it's ok. I'm sorry. I didn't know that about your father," I reply. It's all I can think to say. I pull him closer and hug him tight, rubbing my face into the fringe of hair on the back of his head. We lie there, breathing together for a few moments. Finally, Walter speaks again, and his voice is a little hoarse with unshed tears.

"Mulder?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks," he rumbles.

"Don't mention it," I reply as his breath evens out and he drifts again into sleep.

xXx

Saturday, July 3, 1999. 6:00 AM. The guest cottage. Judge's Point.

I lift one gummy eyelid and stare into Walter's morning beard stubble. He's peacefully sawing wood. He's lying on his back next to me, having moved flat during the night at some point. Sunlight filters in through the curtains, dappling his face with the shadows from a tree outside. I roll over and open both eyes to focus on the clock radio. It reads 6 AM.

Early. As I said. Ok, well I did want to run today. Saturdays are an off day for Walter. He does calisthenics but doesn't run. So, I hit the trail alone even when I'm staying with him. I gently extricate myself from where our legs are still entangled and slide out from under the covers so as not to disturb him. After his disturbed night, and the stress he was under all day yesterday I think he can really use the sleep.

I'm still bothered by the incidents that happened yesterday and last night - but with the dawn of a new day I'm willing to start fresh and see if he really is better. If he pulls out of it I'll let matters slide until we get back to DC. If not...well we're going to play a lot more than 20 questions and his reticence be damned.

I leave the bedroom and walk into the can, shutting the door behind me to keep the noise down. I go to the sink to rinse my mouth out with the mouthwash I brought along. I have a bad case of bourbon breath. I take the opportunity to wash my face as well while I'm waiting for my morning hard-on to subside. I'm only at half mast. Christ I should be thankful I don't have a cock like a steel rod after being so horny last night. I'd hate having to wait an hour to piss. But I feel like I had a good night's sleep and all things considered I guess I should be thankful for that too.

After I wash my face I finally grow flaccid so I make my way over to the john. The lids are down. I chuckle. Yeah, you can tell Walter was married for 17 years. Sharon trained him well. I lift up the lids, take myself in hand and piss. I stare off into space, contemplating what we could do on this fine summer day. As I shake off, I decide to just let things develop as they go along. Before I think about it, I flush the toilet. I curse silently at the idea I may have woken up Walter as the toilet does its thing. Luckily it's one of those quiet flushers. I proceed back to the sink to wash and dry my hands again. As I'm washing I happen to think I should leave some kind of note for Walter. He'll probably know I went running but I might as well remind him just in case. I pick up the soap and write 'Went For A Run' on the bathroom mirror. I exit the bathroom.

Walter is still oblivious to the world so I quickly snag my running clothes and running shoes, dress and leave the cottage through the front door. I lock the door behind me and head up the driveway to the main house. I figure if I jog down the driveway and then out along the road I can cover a couple of miles out and then a couple back and that should be sufficient for a vacation work out.

As I reach the front of the house, the front door opens and Sylvia comes out. She's dressed in dayglo orange running shorts, a white tank top, socks and running shoes as well. Her long hair is tied up and back. A sweatband is around her head. I smile as she waves me over.

"Morning," she smiles.

"Hey," I smile back.

"Walter said you ran," she observes.

"Every day if I can."

"Ah. How many miles?"

"I'm going to do about 2 up and 2 back."

"Estimating the mileage how?"

"I was hoping there were mileage markers," I grin.

She chuckles, "Well there are...after a fashion. This is a pedometer," she taps a small circular device attached to her ankle. "If you'd like to join me I can count off the distance."

"Is four miles ok for you?"

"Sure. I'm only doing about that anyway. I sprained my ankle a few months ago."

"Oh. Well, we'll take it slow then. I think that'll be good for me too," I smile.

I start to stretch and she moves into her stretching routine as well.

"Is Walter up?" she asks, placing her leg on one of the concrete planters that border the door. She starts to flex her thigh and calf muscle. I move to the other planter and do the same.

"Uh...no" I reply, coughing a little. "He had a little trouble getting to sleep. I let him sleep in."

"He didn't have a nightmare did he?" she asks concerned.

"No," I reply.

"He had a Vietnam nightmare here at Judge's Point once," she replies quietly. "God...scared the hell out of the boys. Me too for that matter. He...he used to have them a lot right after he came home."

"He doesn't have them very often now...or at least he hasn't since..." I let my voice trail off.

"Since you've been sleeping with him?" Sylvia smiles gently.

"Uh, yeah," I reply, flushing a little.

"Mulder...don't worry about it. I didn't think you were going to be using that cot," she smirks. I grin and the awkwardness passes as easily as it came up.

We stretch a bit more until both of us are satisfied we're ready to go and then we start a slow jog up the driveway, running side by side. After we get used to each other's running rhythm which coincides with us reaching the main road, Sylvia starts to talk.

"Mulder...I just want to tell you...I like you. I...I guess if the Skinner's have one talent it's being a good judge of character. I think you're on the level and...I just want you to know I think Walt made a good choice in partners," she states matter-of-factly.

"I appreciate that, Sylvia. I can tell you love Walter. I was hoping you'd think I was acceptable - as soon as I met you...I liked you too," I nod, as our feet beat time together on the pavement.

"You know Walter and I do keep in touch," she continues. "We always have - we used to write letters. Now we send e-mail and do that buddy chat thing once in a while. I can tell you Mulder, honestly...my brother has never been a really happy man. Not...not for a very long time anyway."

"I...I think I know what you mean," I reply quietly.

"Well Vietnam changed him of course. Getting wounded so horribly - all those men dying in front of him...I mean...any other man..."

"A lesser man would have never made it back, even if he did make it home."

"Precisely," Sylvia responds.

"Sylvia...you don't have to feel, obligated to tell me any of this...it's family business and..."

She turns towards me slightly as we run on, a quizzical look on her face.

"Mulder...Walter has talked about you so much I already feel like I know you like a brother. You are family - at least I think you're going to be family now...am I right?"

"I hope to be, yes."

"Then I feel like I can share this with you so you'll understand Walter better...and eventually perhaps my mother better as well."

"I see," I nod. "Ok, go on then."

"Well there have been other things that have added to his unhappiness. My mother's drinking...his disagreements with my father over enlisting and then over his plans to go into the Bureau..."

"I heard him mention something similar yesterday...in regards to your mother being disappointed in him, however," I reply quietly.

"After I left you on the back porch?" Sylvia asks.

"Yes," I nod in confirmation.

"Well, it's true. She was disappointed in him. But I think the main reason at the time was because he enlisted and went to the Academy to get away from my mother's drinking when it came down to brass tacks. Oh, of course law enforcement interested him more than running a trucking based empire, but...well at any rate, my father didn't want him to do either. My mother was too drunk to care, and my father blamed Walt and my mother both for Walt almost losing his life and then his losing Walt in the business."

"Jesus," I breathe out.

"Did Walter ever tell you how our father died?"

"No. He just mentioned that he died just before he entered Quantico."

"Well he died in a car accident outside Ambler. One night he and my mother had a fight - one in a long line of fights over her drinking. You know...I could never figure out why they stuck together. Except maybe it was because despite her drinking...Esther was a hell of a businesswoman - still is of course. Dad needed her to help him run the business. Oh, I think he loved her too. Deeply. But they used to go at it over the boozing. At any rate, they were fighting over the drinking and Walter's recent announcement that he was going to try for the FBI. Dad stormed out of the house...it was raining and the roads were slick. The rest you can guess."

"And Walter blamed his mother and her being drunk for his father's death?" I ask.

"Bingo," she huffs as we jog on down the side of the road. A car speeds past us, and Sylvia waves at the driver. The driver waves back. When the car is out of sight, Sylvia continues.

"Walter and our father had a love/hate relationship. Our father was a tough taskmaster. A lot like Walter really. They were so much alike I think it's why they butted heads so often. Deep down Walter worshipped him though, and Dad really loved Walter too. Walt had trouble speaking to my mother for a long time after the funeral. It was Sharon...well Sharon got them back together really."

"So the divorce was painful to your mother as well as Walter."

"Sharon was the daughter of one of mom's art circle friends. Mom really liked Sharon. Yeah, the divorce hurt."

I nod. Well this explains a lot, I guess. I'm really glad she's explaining it all to me. Maybe Judge's Point has its good memories for Walter but it's obvious after last night it has some memories that are troublesome as well. No wonder he's even more keyed up than this situation would warrant. Just coming home is stressful enough without adding all the issues about his sexuality to the mix. Maybe all this is what's been eating at him all along. Maybe his morose attitude had nothing to do with Scully after all. God, I hope not. I'm going to grab on to that idea and hold onto it with dear life because I really don't want to have to deal with the alternative. Sylvia draws me out of my reverie as she continues.

"At any rate, Mulder. What I'm trying to get at is - Walt hasn't had a really easy life. He's had some high spots of course. Don't get me wrong. I mean we at least had a happy childhood - nannies notwithstanding. He does take pride in his job and genuinely likes it despite the aggravation. He thinks he's making a difference there. He's had us - me and Roger and the kids I mean. He's taken a lot of pleasure in being an uncle and brother-in-law. God knows he's been good to me. I couldn't ask for a better brother. But in the main - I just got the idea he's never...you know...had that joy in his life that...."

"That you have when you're with someone you really love."

"Exactly. He's always been alone...and kind of closed off - until now," she replies, smiling over at me as we stride on.

"Well...I can say the same thing...except in my case - I wasn't exactly closed off. It was more like I was....adrift and almost drowning. Walter...Walter grounded me...saved me really. I...he's..." I let my voice trail off, swallowing my emotion hard.

"I understand," Sylvia whispers and we run on in silence for a few minutes.

Finally she breaks the silence with a chuckle. I glance at her.

"What?" I smile.

"You do know that Walter told me about the two of you before he told my mother don't you?"

"No, I didn't."

"Yeah. It was right before he went up to Crossroads for Christmas with you."

"Do I want to know what he said?" I laugh.

"Well he came down to Ambler and we went out for a drink. Mulder...he had that huge hickey on his neck. I'm sure you know the one I mean," she replies archly.

"Guilty as charged," I admit, flushing a little

"Yeah, well it was pretty 'out there'. Walter...with a love bite. I never even saw him with one of those when he was married for heaven's sake."

I start to laugh harder and Sylvia sputters more out.

"Well you know - he can be so...so..."

"Old-fashioned?"

"I was going to say tight-assed, but yeah. Sometimes he's like an old woman - God...like Mom," she giggles.

"Christ, what did your mother say?"

"Well he went over there after he got done using me for his test run for the big revelation. I think he wore a turtleneck when he went to see her."

I have to slow down I'm starting to laugh so hard. Sylvia slows too after glancing at her odometer. She holds up two fingers as she continues.

"So, we're in this bar and I'm just staring at his neck while he's trying to tell me he met someone special. I was dying."

I almost choke on my spit as we stop for a moment, turn round and begin to jog slowly back.

"Well...I guess you were really choking when he told you it was a man," I cough, running on.

"I can't say it made it any more easy to swallow, no." she nods. "But you know...I should have seen it coming...maybe suspected," she muses as we start the first leg of the return trip.

"How so?" I ask, curious.

"Well...he talked about you a lot - you and Scully both actually. But...when he'd mention your name...his whole face would change. I just never thought...well no offense but Walt hid his preferences very well and..."

"He doesn't 'act' gay?"

"Sorry...yeah...I mean even I'm guilty of that kind of stereotyping crap I guess."

"Hey, for what it's worth...I had no idea either. I thought...I thought..."

"You thought you were a dead man for coming onto him?"

"Hell, yeah," I chuckle.

"He told me as much."

We both laugh and jog on in silence then, concentrating on the work out.

"Look, Sylvia, is this going to be all right with Esther? I don't...I don't like the idea of coming between her and her son," I finally admit, getting it out in the open.

"Mulder...Esther has one issue. She just doesn't want Walter to be hurt again. She knows she hurt him very badly for years. She...she hurt me too for that matter. But...she's changed...a lot. Therapy helped her there. We've got a real mother/ daughter relationship now. I thinks she's trying to patch things up with Walter as well so she can get back that mother/son relationship."

"I'm not going to hurt Walter. It's the last thing I'd want to do."

"I know that...but look...and please don't take offense. You're Walter's subordinate, Mulder. Esther...Esther sees that as dangerous for Walter. If you're ever outted on the job...it's her viewpoint that Walter will suffer more, being your supervisor...and that he has a hell of a lot more to lose. She doesn't want to see that happen. So, besides wrestling with the issue of homosexuality she's also trying to come to terms with the idea that her son's career could be ruined and what that might do to him."

I glance at Sylvia and think to myself - 'If you only knew what kind of dangers Walter is under'. Ruin his career? Try wipe him off the face of the Earth. Our little pas de deux isn't even a drop in the bucket compared to the higher evil we're dealing with on a daily basis. I can't say it though because I know Walter has shielded his family from that evil to protect them. I almost tell her I'm not directly assigned to Walter anymore. But in the long run that's really not even that important. I was assigned to him when we started our relationship and he's still senior to me even if he isn't supervising me. So, I have to deal with things at face value here. We'd be in big trouble regardless for being male FBI agents fucking each other. Telling Sylvia I'm no longer under Walter's jurisdiction is really pointless.

"It would be the same situation for Walter if he was seeing one of his female agents...or dating his executive assistant, or any less senior female agent, really."

"But he isn't...he's having sex with a male agent. Mulder, you know it's different. They'll hang him up by his balls if they find out," she ends quietly.

I sigh, and run on, letting my feet pound for a few seconds, trying to gather my thoughts. Sylvia waits for me to reply and finally I do.

"Sylvia, the only rebuttal I have for that idea is...Walter makes his own decisions. It's his life. He's chosen to be with me. I guess he accepts the risks. I know I do. I'm...I'm willing to face whatever happens. I have to be...I love him. Not being with him isn't an alternative at this point. We're being as discreet as we can. But...I can't tell your mother...I can't assure her this is going to be safe or that Walter won't be found out and drummed out of the Bureau. We...we can only take precautions against it and hope it never happens."

"That's pretty much what I told my mother, Mulder," Sylvia replies.

I nod.

"Thanks, Sylvia."

"For what it's worth...she does like you - provisionally. I think...I suspect things will go just fine..."

"Barring any hickeys?" I smirk.

"Don't even joke. I still have to talk to the boys," she laughs. "I was going to say 'in time'."

"I promise to be on my best behavior and to remain patient," I reply, giving her the boy scout hand sign.

"I'll hold you to it, Fox Mulder. Now...last one to the house has to wake Walter."

"Hey! You gotta know he's a bear in the morning," I exclaim as she streaks on ahead of me, laughing as she runs.

"He is my big brother, after all," she calls back.

"No fair!" I laugh in return as I pound off after her.

xXx

Sylvia beats me to the door of the main house, but we part company anyway, her bet notwithstanding. She informs me that breakfast is catch as catch can. She's going to see if Esther and the boys are up yet. After that it's whatever the day brings until dinner when Walter and I are up for preparing it. It is vacation after all. No schedule. I smile at that idea. It's a pleasant novelty.

I walk slowly back over to the cottage, cooling myself down a little. When I reach the door, I unlock it and walk in. I'm met by the smell of coffee and the sight of my lover, doing push-ups with military precision. I notice the medallion I gave him so many months ago, dangling down as he lifts himself over and over again. I smile as it glints in the sunlight. He really does wear it almost all the time.

"Coffee," he grunts gesturing with his head towards where the small cabinet and under cabinet refrigerator sit. The coffemaker is all set-up with coffee perked, and two mugs set out.

"Good morning," I reply.

He glances up on the next push-up, smiles and lowers himself down.

"Morning," he grunts again.

I walk across the room to the coffeemaker and pour myself a cup. It smells really aromatic.

I cross back to sit down at the small table near the patio doors.

Walter does two more push-ups and then stands.

"How are you feeling?" I ask carefully.

He stretches from side to side and bends to touch his toes. When he stands up his face does look measurably more relaxed from yesterday.

"Better. How was your run?"

"Sylvia ran with me," I reply as he walks over to the coffeemaker and pours himself a cup. He brings the cup over and sits down across from me.

"Yeah? Great. She's coming back after that sprain really well. You know she used to compete. Cross country."

"Really? I could tell she was good. She beat me back to the house."

"She was on the cross country team in college. She belongs to one of those women's running clubs back in Ambler."

I nod as he sips his coffee.

"Hungry?" I ask.

"Starving," he smiles at me.

"Then why don't you shower and we'll go put on the feed bag. While I wait I can..."

"Yeah, I know. Cartoons. When you get up to the house Roger and Ben will be indulging their habit as well. You can join the other kids," he rumbles, teasing.

"Great. Maybe they've got some Lucky Charms I can share."

"Captain Crunch, if memory serves me," he chuckles.

"Even better," I laugh and he does too.

We stare at each other and his face becomes more serious.

"Fox...I want to thank you again for everything yesterday...especially last night. I...well...just thanks," he gestures with his coffee cup as he takes another sip.

I nod and reply.

"Hey, you don't have to go into a long explanation. I understand. Walter...that's what this is all about, you know. When I said I was in this for the long haul I meant it. For better or worse, guy. We can't do it legally but nothing says we can't practice the same philosophy those words from the marriage ceremony impart."

He doesn't know what to say for a moment. He looks down and shakes his head as if he can't believe it. I watch his larynx work to swallow. When he looks back up at me his eyes are very soft and I know his emotions are close to the surface. He's embarrassed by the force of them as well. Walter still has trouble dealing with showing his intense feelings. I smile and decide to help him out a little by playing at being the smart-ass.

"So...you wanna carry me over the threshold?"

He laughs.

"No fucking way."

I laugh in return.

"Yeah, well...you're stuck with me anyway, trip over the threshold or no trip over the threshold," I reply, laughing.

"Christ. I'd better invest in Pepcid AC stock," he replies, grinning.

"Or Metamucil."

"Oh go to hell," he replies, barking another quick laugh. Then his face grows soft again and he touches the back of my hand.

"For better or worse," he murmurs. "I want you to know...I wouldn't have it any other way."

My heart swells with emotion. God, I do love him. I nod and smile not trusting my voice to reply. He pats my hand and then withdraws his from mine.

"Hey, I'm hitting the shower. Enjoy Space Ghost," he comments, his voice taking on a teasing tone again.

"Scoobie Doo."

"Whatever, " he rumbles, shaking his head in amusement.

He gets up with his coffee mug and takes it into the bathroom with him. I watch him go, toying with the idea of joining him. He does seem in a better mood. Maybe he'd be in the mood for a little bump and grind? No - I'd better give him some more time. He had a difficult day and a trying night. Let him bounce back a little more and shake himself further out of the doldrums. We've got several more days here. I'm sure the opportunity will present itself eventually.

I head back over to the bed - which he's already made up of course - and grab the television remote. I click on the TV and sprawl across the bed on my stomach to stare at the tube.

xXx

Ben and Roger are indeed watching cartoons when Walter and I enter the front door of the main house. They're dressed in Star Wars the Phantom Menace T-shirts and those baggy long shorts that kids like to wear. We can smell someone making eggs in the kitchen and a quick look through the open space between tells us it's Sylvia. Esther is on the phone in the kitchen. Both are dressed, Sylvia in jeans shorts and a red T-shirt and sneakers, and Esther in a colorful blue and green print blouse, off-white khaki slacks and sandals.

Walter and I opted for jeans and T-shirts - mine white and Walter's black. He joked that we looked like chess pieces as we headed out the cottage door. I put my running shoes back on and Walter is wearing sneakers. For once Walter also chose to leave his Smith and Wesson in the night stand drawer. The drawer has a lock on it so both guns are locked safely away for now and each of us has a key.

"Uncle Walter!" Ben exclaims as we enter the living room. "You wanna watch cartoons? We'll put on Bugs Bunny."

I raise an eyebrow at Walter and he shrugs.

"I didn't say I don't watch that stuff. I just stick to the classics," Walter rumbles, grinning a little. "Nah, I'll pass you guys. But Mr. Mulder would probably like to join you," he adds walking on into the kitchen.

"Cool. You like X-Men?" Roger asks.

"Sure. What are you guys eating?" I ask

"Cap'n Crunch and orange juice," Ben replies indicating the bowls, glasses and pitcher of orange juice on the coffee table between them.

"Let me snag a bowl and I'll be right back."

"Ok," Roger nods as I head off into the kitchen.

"I'm making an omelet for myself. Can I get make one for you, Mulder?" Sylvia asks as she dexterously flips the skillet over the burner.

"No, I'm joining the guys for Cap'n Crunch," I reply, smiling.

"God, I wish they wouldn't eat that stuff. I guess it might help if I refused to buy it though, wouldn't it?"

I chuckle.

"Well, it's probably one of the few doses of sugar they get. They're pretty good about eating the right things the rest of the time," she continues. "Could you see if they'll each eat a banana though?" she sighs a little. "I'd appreciate it."

"Sure. No problem," I reply, smiling. I head over to a bowl of fruit on the cabinet and collect three bananas.

"Bowls are in the cabinet to Sylvia's left," Walter advises as he pours himself some coffee from the coffemaker next to the stove. I walk over and get the bowl out of the cabinet. There are clean spoons and glasses in the drainer by the sink. I take one of each. I end up at the counter setting everything down to grab the cereal box from where it sits on the kitchen counter.

"Walter, do you want an omelet? I can give you this one and make another for myself."

"You sure? I can just get out another skillet and..." Walter starts to reply, looking over at Sylvia.

"No problem - really."

"Ok, sure. Thanks," Walter replies, nodding at her in appreciation. He places his mug on the kitchen table and then heads over to another cabinet to get a plate for himself when Esther hangs up the phone. He stops when she crosses in front of him on her way to sit down at the kitchen table. Her half eaten omelet is waiting for her.

"Well that's too bad," she mutters as she sits down and takes up her coffee cup.

"What's wrong?" Walter asks, concern in his voice. He goes to stand by her side.

"Oh, that was Mary Conroy with the Reedsville Arts Group. John Dryden is in the hospital."

"Oh no, I'm sorry to hear that," Sylvia sympathizes, setting the omelet pan down on the stove's back burner.

"He's the painter that lives across the creek, isn't he?" Walter asks.

"Yes. Wonderful watercolorist. The damn old fool. He fell off a ladder over there and broke his arm."

"I'm sorry, Esther," I interject.

"Well he's supposed to recover fully, but they had to put a pin in and kept him in for observation because I guess he knocked himself in the head a little too."

"That's too bad," Walter commiserates, rising again to get the plate he had been retrieving.

"Well at least it wasn't his right arm. But still - for heaven's sake."

"What was he doing on the ladder?" Sylvia asked.

"Cleaning a bird's nest out of a gutter," Esther answers.

"Mr. Mulder...X-Men is coming on," Ben yells from the living room.

"Sorry," I wince a little at the assembled adults.

Esther laughs with good-natured patience, "Don't worry, Fox. You're doing me a favor. I'd have to join them and I'm afraid X-men is really quite beyond me."

"Well then in that case I won't feel guilty about it," I reply. I pour a healthy bowl full of Cap'n Crunch, and pour some milk from the carton on the kitchen table over it.

"Can you juggle all that, Mulder?" Walter asks me with an amused twitch of his lips.

"Piece of cake," I reply, taking a deep breath. I have the three bananas, the glass and the bowl full of cereal with spoon inserted, all balanced against my chest.

He chuckles as I walk very carefully out to the living room.

xXx

When the credits for X-Men are rolling I hear the phone in the kitchen ring again. Walter comes out to find me seated between his two nephews, empty cereal bowls all in a row. I'm drinking a second glass of orange juice just as Sylvia calls through the kitchen door.

"Roger...this is for you," Roger looks around in puzzlement.

"It's Jason."

"Oh cool!" Roger exclaims getting up to jog into the kitchen.

"Roger, can I come too?"

"I'll ask him," Roger calls back to Ben.

Ben turns to me as Walter walks over and sits down on the couch.

"Jason and his sister Pam live across the creek. They're usually down here for the summer. We go over there to play in their tree fort," Ben explains.

"Those are the people with the black Lab? The Kellys?" Walter asks.

"Right. Their Lab had puppies. We were hoping to see the puppies too."

"Uh huh. You guys still haggling for a dog I take it?"

"Yeah, but Mom and Dad said not yet," Ben sighs.

Roger comes running back out.

"They've invited us to see the puppies. Mom says we can go if Uncle Walter can ferry us over. Can you, Uncle Walter?"

"In the motorboat?" Walter asks his eyebrows raised.

"Yeah. It's all gassed up. Mom did it yesterday morning."

"Ok. Sure," Walter replies, smiling. "Want to come along Agent Mulder?"

"Uh...on a boat?"

"Yeah," Walter grins.

"Come on, Mr. Mulder. You can see the puppies too," Ben bounces around a little in his eagerness.

"Sylvia comes out of the kitchen and overhears the conversation.

"Mom and I are going into Reedsville to get Mr. Dryden some flowers. Mom said she'll go visit him after lunch and see if he needs anything from home. He doesn't really have anyone so he may need some help."

"No problem. Mulder'll come along too. I can show him some of the creek," Walter replies, nodding at his sister.

"Ok, boys, clear up the mess and then you can go. Now, do you still want to go swimming this afternoon?"

"Yes ma'am," they both chorus, smiling.

"Well then have Jason's mom drive you back around here by about 1 PM then."

"All right, Mom. Thanks," Roger answers. Both boys begin to clear away the breakfast dishes. Walter and I help them and then we head out through the kitchen towards the back door and the porch beyond. Walter takes a spare set of house keys from a hook on a rack in the coat closet on the way out. All four of us head down through the backyard towards the dock and private beach. There's a small boathouse next to the dock and we go inside to find a four person motorboat moored there.

"Ok, you guys, go get four life-jackets out of the cabinet," Walter orders his nephews and both run over to the supply cabinets and do as he requests.

"Wal...uh, sir ...I think I should tell you...I get seasick," I admit, flinching a little in embarrassment.

"We aren't putting out to sea," Walter smirks a little.

"Whatever you say, sir. But I did warn you," I shrug, climbing into the back of the boat.

Everyone piles in, Walter at the helm. We put our life-jackets on and the boys cast us off. Walter starts the engine up slowly and we taxi out of the boathouse.

"I'd sit up front if I were you, Mulder. If you get seasick the stern is the worst place for you," Walter admonishes me as I move to sit next to Ben in the back of the boat. "Roger, would you let Mr. Mulder sit there?" he asks the older boy who jumped into the shotgun seat. "We don't want him leaning over the side."

"Or barfing in the boat," Ben laughs. I give him a pained look and he laughs harder.

"No problemo," Roger replies, nodding and adjusting his glasses before he moves back towards us. The gesture reminds me so much of Walter that I smile as I rise and pass the boy. I take a seat next to Walter as he revs the boat's engine higher and we motor quickly away from the dock and across the expanse of water of Tipton's Creek. Creek is really a misnomer. It's a lot wider. Wide enough to need a boat to go from Judge's Point to the houses on the other side of this inlet. I grab hold of the seat and try desperately to divorce my stomach from my mind as Walter steers the boat rapidly through the water.

"That's John Dryden's house," he points off to the left.

"The painter," Roger calls from the back.

"Yes. Mr. Dryden broke his arm in a fall. Your grandmother is going to visit him in the hospital this afternoon," Walter replies to the boy.

"Is he gonna be ok?" Ben asks, wrinkling his brow.

"Sounds like it, according to your grandmother."

"Good. He's cool," Ben replies, looking out over the water.

"There's Jason's house, Uncle Walter," Roger indicates a large white house right on the Creek shore a little further to the right.

"Ok. Hang on," Walter smiles over at me as he guns the engine hard. The four-seater roars ahead, flying over the water like a rocket.

"WOW!" Ben chortles as we shoot ahead towards the shoreline.

"Go for it, Uncle Walter!" Roger hollers gleefully.

"Oh hell!" I yell as my stomach lurches up into my throat. I could have said something a lot more profane but I succeed in curbing myself in front of the boys as all the color drains out of my face.

Walter is laughing as he throttles back and finally slows to coasting speed. He aims the boat towards the dock and we approach it at a perfect angle for delivering the boys to see their friends. Two youngsters, a boy about Roger's age and a girl that looks around Ben's age come running down the dock followed by a blonde woman I take to be their mother. Walter brings the boat up close to the dock.

"Mulder, jump out and help Roger tie us off," Walter orders. I stare at him with barely contained pleading not to make me do it. I feel like I'm gonna hurl any second now. Walter merely raises his eyebrows and I know I'm doomed to obey.

Roger is clambering out of the boat anyway and rather than be shown up by an 11 year old, I rise from my seat on unsteady legs and practically pitch myself over the side and onto the dock. I manage to maintain my footing however and grab the bow rope while Roger grabs the stern. With the help of Jason, his sister Pam and their mother we get the boat tied off.

Ben, Walter and I exit the boat and Ben and Roger remove their life-jackets and toss them back into the boat. Introductions are made all around and Walter and I take a pass on going to see the puppies. The kids are so excited they run off up to the house with hardly a second's thought anyway. They're pretty eager to see the dogs. Walter tells Mrs. Kelly about needing the boys back around 1 PM and then we bid her goodbye, untie the boat and motor off again. As soon as we're out of earshot of Mrs. Kelly waving from the dock, I round on Walter.

"You bastard. I almost heaved my guts up," I growl.

He starts to laugh hard.

"You wouldn't be laughing if I'd puked all over the bottom of this damn boat."

"Hey, I'm sorry, all right. I'll take it slow on our tour."

"Tour?"

"Yeah, I'll take you down the shoreline a little and then out to Abbot's Island. It's scenic. Shouldn't take long."

I sit back in the seat and run my hand over my face.

"All right, but I make no guarantees I'm not going to lose my breakfast here."

"You'll be fine, babe. I'll take it nice and easy. Just sit back and relax," Walter smiles as he steers the boat parallel to the shore.

I do as he instructs and before long my stomach does calm down. The trip is very scenic. Beautiful in fact. It's a truly phenomenal morning. Not too hot yet, clear and sunny. Waterfowl, including several herons, fly between the shore and the boat. I can see fish jumping in the water around us. We pass a couple of other boats and Walter speaks, indicating a house on the left. It's a huge old Victorian and looks a little run down.

"You'd be interested in that place, Mulder. It's reputed to be haunted."

"Oh yeah?" I ask, interested.

"Yes. Sometime around the turn of the century a lover's quarrel resulted in a murder-suicide. The unfortunate couple is said to reenact the crime," he replies.

"Interesting. I'll have to check that out later."

"I think I have a book back home with the account in it. I'll check when we get back to DC," he replies. He smiles at me, pleased that he's able to tell me something he knows will catch my interest.

"Thanks. That'd be great," I reply, smiling back.

We motor along in silence again for a bit and then Walter points ahead.

"That's Abbot's Island."

There's definitely a land mass ahead. It's a small island filled with verdant green trees with a beach on the side we're approaching. Part of the beach is rocky and that's the area Walter is steering towards.

"We're stopping here?" I ask a bit skeptically. It looks more wooded than I like to get involved in. Oh don't get me wrong - I've had experience in the woods. The wrong kind of experience. Bad. If I can avoid roughing it I will.

"I thought you just might like to see one of the spots where I used to play as a kid. But we can go back if you'd prefer," he replies neutrally, watching the rocks as the boat glides in.

"Oh. Well, sure. I'd like to see it," I nod. I smile at him. It's nice he's sharing this with me. I really shouldn't act like such an asshole over it.

"Great. Get ready to drop anchor then," he replies, smiling. He gestures with his head towards the anchor that's on a chain in the stern.

"Aye, aye, Skipper," I salute him and make my way aft to the anchor as Walter throttles down and then cuts the engine. The boat comes to a stop in the shallows next to the shore, and I drop the anchor. The chain plays out and hits bottom quickly. It's not deep here at all. Just deep enough to clear the boat's propellers. I move back towards the bow and sit down in the passenger seat next to Walter where he sits at the wheel.

"We can go ashore here. I'll tie the boat off on that tree," he comments, pointing to a maple directly ahead of us.

"We're gonna get soaked," I observe looking over the side.

"Not if we take off our shoes, socks and jeans."

"Oh yeah?" I smirk. "Isn't that a little...risky?"

"Can you hear anyone out here, Mulder? See any other boats at anchor?" he asks, his eyes crinkling in amusement.

It's totally peaceful around us. Hardly any sounds of civilization at the moment - a far off droning of another motorboat being the only recognizable one anyway. The only sounds I can really hear are a soft wind rustling leaves, the calls of waterfowl and the gentle lapping of the waves against the boat's hull.

"No, I don't hear or see anyone."

He raises his eyebrows and I chuckle.

"All right," I reply, laughing too. "I guess I can strip down to my unmentionables for a few minutes to walk ashore."

"You shoulda put your swim trunks on under your jeans. I did," he comments and then he laughs like hell.

"You asshole!" I sputter. So that's what he was doing in the bathroom. He must have planned this earlier! I shake my head and continue to lambaste him with good-natured fake outrage. "First you turn my stomach inside out with that crazed dash for the dock back there, and now you just want to see me half naked. You've got some nerve. I'm a guest." I end huffing with feigned effrontery.

He laughs helplessly and so do I. Both of us are in tears by the time we finally calm down.

"Quit your grinnin' and drop your linen," I finally choke out.

"That's my line," Walter rumbles, toeing off his sneakers.

In short order we've got our jeans, shoes and socks draped around our shoulders. Walter snags a towel from the cabinet under the dashboard and takes the bow rope. We climb over the side of the boat and into the water. Walter wades across to the beach first, parting the water like Poseidon as he moves. He quickly ties the boat off. I flounder forward after him stepping in amongst a nest of crayfish.

"Shit. Shit. Shit," I curse as I kick the clawed monstrosities away from my toes.

Walter wades back to see what I'm complaining about. He peers down into the water around my feet.

"Hey, crawdads. Those are good eating," he comments. I look up into his grinning face.

"Spare me," I reply sarcastically. "They're trying to fucking eat 'me'."

Walter kicks up some more of the sandy bottom and the crawfish scatter. I take the opportunity to bolt for the shore. Walter renews his progress in the same direction, laughing again at my expense. In truth, it's so good to hear him laughing and enjoying himself that I couldn't care if the crawfish had been biting my ass. Well...you know what I mean. I'm just relieved he's relaxing no matter what the reason.

When he gains the shore he towels off his legs and then hands the towel to me.

"Thanks," I nod at him.

He's still chuckling as he dresses again. When he has his sneakers back on he sits down on the sand to wait for me to redress. He stares out over the creek with a pensive look on his face. I pull on my clothes quickly and sit down next to him, placing the towel by my side.

"Lot of memories," I observe quietly.

"Yeah. But...not all of them are bad," he glances over at me and grins a little.

"I'm glad," I murmur, touching his shoulder and stroking it. He brings his hand up and places it over mine. I smile as he lifts my hand to his lips and kisses my palm. When he removes his lips he smiles more widely.

"In fact, I'd like you to see one of my best creek memories right now," he replies. His eyes are clearly filled with pleasure at sharing this with me. I'm caught up in his infectious good humor.

"Great. Where?" I ask looking around.

"Come on. I'll show you," he replies, clapping me on the back. He gets up off the sand and turns towards the island's tree line. I toss the towel into the boat and follow him.

Both of us push through the trees and start to climb up the gentle rise that leads to the center of the island. We walk in silence, just content to enjoy the day and each other's company. It's easygoing really. The trees aren't too terribly thick and Walter seems to know the path of least resistance anyway. Before long we reach what appears to be the apex of the island and stop underneath the base of a large and very old maple tree that stands in amongst the grove at the summit.

Walter looks up and laughs a little almost to himself.

"I see someone has been carrying on the tradition," he muses as I follow the direction of his gaze.

Up high in the branches of the tree are many elaborate platforms made out of plywood. Some are covered and others are open to the air. There are ropes leading from platform to platform and also wooden rungs on the side of the larger branches leading between different levels. The whole thing looks like an elaborate tree condo, something right out of the Swiss Family Robinson. I shake my head in amazement.

"Incredible," I observe smiling at Walter. He moves his gaze from the site above back to my face.

"Thanks," he nods.

"You built this?" I reply, raising my eyebrows.

"Yeah. Most of it. It's become kind of a tradition now for the summer kids to add to it every year, or more likely repair what gets damaged over the winter. But essentially it's pretty much the basic tree fort Sylvia and I and a few other kids built here years ago."

"Did you ferry the wood over here?" I ask quietly.

"By rowboat at first until some of us were finally allowed to use outboard motors."

"God, that was some job," I reply, with considerable awe in my voice.

"Well we had a lot of enthusiasm. It was one of those grand plans that just takes flight in a bunch of kids' minds. The one big thing you strive to accomplish with your friends. It took a couple of summers to get the fort the way we wanted it but in the end it was worth every ounce of sweat and all the smashed thumbs any of us ever got," Walter reminisces.

"It's fantastic," I reply, clapping him on the back.

"Come here. I'll show you something else," he replies, grinning again. I follow him around the tree to the opposite side. There's an elaborate ladder on this side as well as a rope that leads up to the first plywood level. Walter advances to an area of the trunk near one of the rungs and motions me over. I stare at the wood.

"We even signed our work," he whispers indicating a row of carved initials in the tree's bark.

"'WS', that's me. 'SS', that's Sylvia. The rest were Bobby McNamara, Paul McNamara, Bonnie Jankowski, Leroy Peterson, and John Snyder."

"You let the girls in the clubhouse?"

Walter chuckles, "Well Syl was a given because I had to watch her. Bonnie and Leroy were cousins and she had the biggest rowboat with a motor. We were nothing if not pragmatic. But hell, they pulled their weight. Bonnie was as tall as I was back then. She had a longer reach than any of the other guys."

I stare up into the tree branches, and my mind falls back to my summer days on the Vineyard when I'd have to let Sam tag along with me to sandlot baseball games. We used to have a girl on our team too. Her name was Mary Abbott and she was taller than I was at the time. Hell of a second baseman.

"Mary Abbott," I speak aloud before I realize it.

"What?" Walter asks, perplexed.

I refocus on him and smile.

"Mary Abbott. One of the best sandlot second basemen I ever knew on Martha's Vineyard," I reply quietly.

He nods with understanding and a good deal of compassion for me on his face. He clears his throat and we survey the tree in silence for a moment longer.

"This is really fantastic," I finally add, touching the side of the tree.

"You want to climb up?" Walter whispers, gesturing with his head towards the wooden ladder.

I look back at him and smile wider.

"Yeah," I reply.

He nods and moves to the ladder. Walter climbs up first, gaining the first platform easily. I follow and with no trouble at all join him. Both of us stand on the first plywood floor and test it carefully. It seems more than capable of holding our weight. I look up and decide that maybe this is as far as we should go. I voice the thought to Walter.

"Maybe we'd better stop here."

"Not a bad idea. I'm really not sure the higher platforms are made for adult weight," he replies.

"Great view, even from here," I observe looking off over the creek. "I can see that artist's house and 'Judge's Point'," I note.

Walter stands next to me and replies, "From the top you can practically see to Reedsville. This is one hell of an old maple."

He takes a seat then and I sit down beside him. We rest our back against one of the upright limbs and sit Indian style. The breeze is fabulous up here. I can smell the combination of fresh and saltwater on it. Walter stares off over the creek in the direction of the watercolorist's house.

"My mother has taken a liking to John Dryden," Walter says abruptly.

"A liking? As in...she's..."

"She's seeing him," Walter replies, brushing at some dirt on his jeans.

"I wondered. She had that tone in her voice when she was talking about him. Like he was a little more than just the artist across the lake."

Walter nods.

"Yeah, I think maybe Dryden feels the same way. They got to know each other in that art's group. He's been hanging around. Sylvia seems to like him. You heard Ben's comment about him. They like him too," Walter replies shrugging.

"And how do you feel about it?" I ask quietly.

"It's Esther's life. I guess I don't mind really. He seems on the level as far as I can tell. Seems to understand my mother at any rate - even about the drinking. They get along. She likes to paint and she really loves the creek. So does he. I guess they have a lot in common."

"Your mother's been alone for a long time," I venture carefully.

"Long enough," Walter nods in confirmation. "If he's courting her I'm not going to object to it. She has a right to be happy."

"Exactly," I purr as I snake my arm up around his shoulder. I give him a hug. He moves into me a little and I turn towards him more fully. His hand comes up and takes the side of my face pulling me close and then we're kissing gently under the shade of the old maple.

I open my mouth and he deepens the kiss, letting his tongue rove over mine eagerly as my breath quickens. My hand moves to the back of his head and I pull him closer, seeking to taste more of him.

When we finally break apart both of us are breathing a lot harder. Walter grins and touches my lower lip with his index finger.

"Bonnie Jankowski kissed me up here once," he teases me.

"I'm jealous," I reply darting my tongue out to lick his finger.

"You shouldn't be. Scared the shit out of me. I ran like hell."

I laugh.

"More woman than you could handle?" I ask arching an eyebrow.

"A woman wasn't what I wanted to handle," he replies, grabbing my head with both his hands. He crushes my mouth to his hard, and I grab hold of his back convulsively, letting him take all he wants, consuming me, as I groan under his lips.

When he breaks contact I mumble some kind of nonsense sound of pleasure. He runs one large hand down my body, the cotton of my T-shirt pressing against my heated flesh. He tweaks my nipples a little through the material and I arch my crotch up towards his body. He grins and moves his hand down further until he reaches my fly and the rapidly growing bulge beneath. He unzips me deftly and works his hand into my pants.

"Oh God," I laugh, resting my head over his shoulder as he runs his thumb over the head of my cock. His other hand moves up under my shirt to make contact with my naked skin and I press even closer, panting lightly against his neck.

"Nice," he murmurs at the pre-cum slicking his finger.

I shift, spreading my legs slightly to give him more access and he moves back a little, taking his hand out from underneath my shirt. He starts to unbutton my jeans. Just as he's spreading the material wider to expose the fly of my boxer briefs we hear voices coming up the hill towards the tree fort.

"Fuck," I hiss, looking down in panic.

"Christ. Zip it up," Walter mumbles, moving back.

I reach forward with shaky fingers and rearrange my clothing, zipping and buttoning as fast as I can. My cock rapidly grows limp and my arousal backs off in a hurry as the high-pitched children's voices grow nearer.

"Sorry, babe," Walter hisses as he stands up to look over the side. A group of kids are coming up the hill, winding their way amongst the trees. It's a mixed group of twelve, all ages and sexes, and they're carrying some plywood and tools with them.

I walk to the edge of the platform and pat Walter on the back to reassure him it's ok.

"Looks like some urban renewal is about to take place," I comment, staring over the edge.

As the work gang reaches the top of the hill and pulls up under the tree, they start to put their boards, hammers and what looks like a bag of nails from a hardware store down. The leader of the group, a kid who looks to be about 12 or 13 years old, stops underneath the tree and looks up when he hears me speak.

"Hey Mister, you're trespassing," he calls up with authority in his voice.

"This is a kid's tree fort!" a second boy adds coming up behind him.

"Come on, Mulder, we'd better climb down before we're in serious trouble here," Walter chuckles.

Both of us hasten to the ladder and climb down carefully, Walter first. When his feet touch solid ground again and he steps back, I jump down next to him with a small thud.

"Sorry, we didn't see any signs that said "No Trespassing," Walter replies, "I'm Walter Skinner," he adds, extending his hand towards the leader, "I'm vacationing over at Judge's Point."

 The boy takes his hand and shakes it solemnly. "I'm Matt Blake."

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Blake. This is my friend Mr. Mulder. He's staying at Judge's Point as well."

All the other kids are looking on with their mouths open at Walter treating the oldest boy as an adult. We can practically see Matt's chest puffing up in self- importance. He lets go of Walter's hand and shakes mine briefly. When he drops mine, a smaller girl with blonde hair very much like the older boy's moves forward.

"You didn't see no signs because we just brought them this morning, right, Matt?" she interjects archly, displaying the hand-painted 'No Trespassing' sign to the boy.

"'Didn't see 'any' signs, Sue. My sister's right though, Mr. Skinner. Sorry. I know Roger and Ben. Are you their Uncle Walter?"

"Yes," Walter replies.

"Oh. Well I guess it was ok for you to be up there since you're on the creek and all," Matt answers magnanimously.

"But this 'is' a kid's fort," the same smaller boy pipes up again. He's very short, with mousy brown hair and really thick glasses. He suddenly reminds me of a young Frohike. I stifle a laugh.

"Well, we'll let you all get to work then," I nod, tapping Walter on the shoulder and gesturing towards the trail.

"Yeah, we'll be going. Good luck with the fort," Walter nods. He turns and follows me as I head back the way we came. He pulls up next to me when we're out of view, and smacks me on the ass.

"Rain check number two?" I whisper.

"You know it," he hisses back, the sound of frustration heavy behind that exhale of breath.

We walk on, but before we're out of earshot I hear Sue, Matt's sister exclaim.

"Matt. Matt. The initials. WS...could that have been..."

"Roger and Ben's Uncle built the fort?" Matt replies, his voice filled with interest. "Roger said his Uncle's an FBI agent," Matt adds in a lower voice.

"No shit," the voice of the kid with the thick glasses exclaims.

I look over at Walter and he grins wide as we push on through the trees towards the beach where the motorboat awaits.

xXx

Roger and Ben returned to Judge's Point a little after 1 PM and we all gathered for a lunch on the back porch. The day had grown hotter and the BLTs and lemonade were the perfect light meal under the circumstances. Roger and Ben proceeded to tell us all about the Lab puppies they saw and Sylvia started to waver a bit on the "no dog rule" in the face of her son's enthusiasm. Walter described our trip to Kelly's and then Abbot's Island and both he and the boys tactfully left out the part where I almost threw up in the boat. The boys are duly impressed that I'd been out to the tree fort. Evidently they'd been there with the group of kids before but hadn't been back enough to the creek to be part of the regular construction crew. Esther told an amusing story about the time Walter and Sylvia took some plywood they thought was set aside for scrap and turned out to be for construction of their father's new tool bench in the garage. Their punishment had been having to row their father over to the island to get a look at where the plywood had ended up.

After lunch, Esther excused herself to go visit John Dryden. It was evident to me since Walter had mentioned his mother's feelings for the artist that she did indeed seem to have a special liking for him. But in Esther's stiff New England way that fondness came out as complaining about what an old fool he was for getting himself hurt. So, Walter, Sylvia and I nodded and commiserated and when she left had a bit of a discussion about her trying to cover up her desires in that direction. Walter and Sylvia agreed that Dryden seemed to be ok and they'd take a wait and see attitude on how things developed in that area.

Things were quite a bit less tense in the Esther department during lunch all the way around in my opinion. Walter seemed more upbeat in that regard as well. I guess he's relieved I'm making nice and Esther is making the attempt to make nice with me.

The swim was on the agenda for after lunch of course. We waited a goodly amount of time for our food to digest and then all changed into our swimsuits. Once that was done, we tried to decide on whether to take the boat or stay on dry land. I voted loudly for no more boating. I put my foot down there. Walter took pity on me and opted to swim off the beach and dock instead. Besides, Sylvia wanted to do some sunbathing as well. The boys were just eager to get in the water.

So now Walter, Sylvia, Roger, Ben and I are leaving the house, a happy gaggle of summer vacationers.

You know...these two kids really are ok. I've seen a lot less well-mannered ankle biters. As we all traipse down to the private beach, the kids manage to drag three inner tubes between them. Sylvia walks in and swims a few quick laps then exits the water for the dock and her goal of sunbathing. Walter and the boys wade into the water with obvious gusto. I follow when Walter calls encouragement.

I swim around for awhile with him, and then do some laps alone while Walter races his nephews back to the dock a few times. Of course each boy is allowed to beat him once, and then Walter feigns being crushed at losing so they let him win a race as well. After a few more laps, I decide to join Sylvia where she sits on the dock, basking in the sun.

"Oil?" she asks as I walk down the dock towards her. "Factor 25 sunblock."

She's lying on a huge beach towel in a red Speedo one piece, her long dark brown hair tied back in a braid that is in turn piled up on her head. She looks damned attractive for a 37 year old mother of two 'wild Indians'. Walter would probably 'clock' me if he thought I was harboring lust for his sister. And really, nothing could be further from the truth. I'm not lusting for her. It's admiration I feel. She's a great person and in the short time I've known her I've decided I like her a lot. It's not hard to figure out why. If I could have seen Samantha grow up, I would have hoped she would be something like Walter's 'little' sister.

"Yeah, maybe I'd better. I haven't gotten much chance to get a summer tan," I smile taking the sunblock from her hands. I spread my towel out next to hers. I'm careful not to disturb her deck shoes. Walter's specs are tucked into one of them. His towel is folded up next to her shoes. I sit down on my towel and start to lather myself up with the oil.

"I don't suppose you would with your job being the way it is," she replies sympathetically.

"Exactly," I answer obliquely. I'm not sure how much Walter has told her about what I do at the FBI, so I don't want to get too specific. I have a momentary pang of guilt at the idea that my even being here may be dangerous for Walter's family. But he's accepting of the risk so I guess I can be too. After all, his involvement in the X-Files over the years hasn't been a risk-free environment for anyone he knows much less his family. He's done his best to shelter them but even so...look at what happened to Sharon. God, sometimes...sometimes I get so tired thinking about all the implications of what we do.

Sylvia nods and continues to watch her brother splashing and playing with her two sons, a gentle smile on her face. I'm heartened by her calm and buoyed by the look of love in her eyes. I continue to watch Walter too as I spread the suntan oil onto my skin. My lover is laughing and picking up Ben. Walter places the younger boy so that he can stand on his broad shoulders. Ben lets out a war hoop of pleasure as Walter gently lifts him up and tosses him into a perfect dive back into the water.

Roger grabs his brother and dunks him under when he comes up. Walter admonishes him to be careful and then picks him up and tosses him for an impromptu dive as well. Both boys are breathless with laughter, and Walter encourages them to float in the inner tubes they brought down to the shore so they can rest. Walter joins them on the third inner tube and all three of them float in a tight circle. Sylvia and I watch as they talk, Walter's low bass rumble and the two boys' higher-pitched voices caught up in intimate conversation. I hear the words 'Star Wars' a couple of times before Sylvia speaks again.

"He's a good uncle, Mulder. He...he doesn't get to see them all that often because of the job but...he does make the effort to see them as much as he can. It's quality time when he's with them for sure."

Once again, I'm reminded just how much of this part of Walter's life I knew so very little about. I continue to be glad Sylvia is sharing the information with me so freely. It makes me like her even more for doing so.

"It does look like Roger and Ben really like him," I whisper watching Roger gesturing grandiosely and Walter nodding very seriously at every word the boy is saying. "I can tell he's a good uncle just by the way they're interacting."

"They adore Walter. I sometimes think it was a damn shame that he and Sharon never had any kids. But I guess under the circumstances it was a good thing they didn't," she replies. "Oh...I...that didn't come out right. I didn't mean to imply..." she starts to bluster.

I set the bottle of suntan oil onto her beach towel and look at her with a small smile.

"Sylvia...it's ok. I know this situation isn't easy for you, despite how understanding you've been. You don't...you don't have to dance around the issue, or try to monitor your comments," I reply kindly.

"Well, I meant the divorce really. Divorce hurts kids. Roger's folks were divorced and it still hurts him even now. I didn't mean to imply that Walter discovering he was gay would have made him a bad father," she replies, shaking her head in self-deprecation.

"I understood that," I nod to reassure her. "Walter...Walter's a good man, Sylvia. I think he would have made an outstanding father."

Hell of a lot better than my old man I think bitterly.

"You love him very much don't you?" she asks quietly.

"I do," I answer simply, pinning her eyes.

"Then that's what's important," she smiles at me. "And like I said, I think you're a good man too, Mr. Fox Mulder. All that stuff I said before - about knowing you're good for my brother and the change for the better in him since you've been together...all that was true too, you know. He's...he has a joie de vivre he never had before he met you. I...I can't thank you enough for making him happy."

I nod, swallowing hard and gaze out over the water at the object of my affections. He's dropped off the inner tube and is swimming in a backstroke. His two nephews are still talking as he slowly circles the tubes. Finally he stands up in shallow water and I watch, entranced as rivulets run down his muscular torso. He reaches up and swipes water from his scalp, skimming his hands down over his face and then down his chest to sluice himself off further. I grow warm with arousal watching him. Oh brother. After the incident up in the tree earlier I'm going to have to really fight to keep myself under control here. Either that or Sylvia's going to get more of a show from me than either one of us want her to see. I cross my legs and jerk my attention away to focus back on Sylvia.

"Thank you, Sylvia. I appreciate it. You're very kind. It's...it's good to have you as a sister-in-law," I reply, smiling. It's a risk referring to her that way. But I feel it sincerely and I really do want to express my appreciation by treating her as family now.

She smiles, blushing a little.

"God...I...never thought about it that way...but you're absolutely right. Well, hell yes. I'm pleased to be your sister-in-law too, Mulder," she laughs, squeezing my arm impulsively. "And listen...my mother seems to be coming around. She...she nearly had a fit when I married Roger. You know...a fireman. How can that be a suitable husband for Sylvia Skinner? But she's come round where Roger's concerned. I know she's going to reconcile her mind where you and Walter are concerned too."

I chuckle, "This is a little different, Sylvia."

"Well, she'll have to learn to celebrate the difference," she insists.

I laugh. Esther celebrating this relationship that easily strains my credulity a little. But, I'm certainly willing to give her a chance. And Sylvia's right. Esther does seem to be making an honest attempt to get with the program. It's clear Walter respects and loves his mother. He may bluster and posture when they disagree but that scene on the porch yesterday certainly showed me that mother and son care deeply for each other. Yeah, I'll give Esther the benefit of the doubt for sure. I'll continue to meet her overtures of hospitality and friendship and be on my best behavior. I don't want to come between the man I love and his family under any circumstances.

"Let's hope there's no more fireworks during the celebration," I reply, clearing my throat.

"Oh I think we've seen the last display, Mulder. And look - call me Syl, ok. All my friends do," she smirks echoing what I said to her when we were introduced.

"Great, Syl it is then," I reply, smiling like an idiot. "Syl, I...I just want you to know I appreciate you making me feel so welcome. I...I only have my mother left as far as immediate family goes now. It's nice...it's nice to be included in uh...well it's just nice to feel a part of things," I add, stumbling over my words.

One of the things I've lacked all my life, but especially since Sam was taken, is a non-dysfunctional family life. I've lived vicariously through Scully's family for years. But, no matter how close I grew to her I always felt like an interloper in that family group thanks to Bill, Jr. I probably always will no matter how sincere Margaret Scully's like for me proves to be. But now...with Sylvia and her brood and Walter here at Judge's Point - I'm starting to feel like I truly belong in a family and it's a very heady experience.

Slyvia waves towards her boys and they both wave back. Walter waves at us and then I wave back as well.

"I should talk to the boys soon, Mulder," Sylvia muses and I look back at her with an understanding nod.

"If you want me to help...explain," I offer.

"I'll let you know but I'm pretty sure I can handle it. Roger works with a lesbian fireman at his station. Her and her partner have been to our home for cookouts so it's not like Roger, Jr. and Ben are unaware about gays - at least the women loving women side of things. I'll just need to explain that their Uncle Walter is in love and you've made him very happy. I don't think there'll be a problem. Besides, they like you already. I think they'll be pumped up to think they have another uncle in the FBI," she adds chuckling.

I laugh. Yeah, they did have a ton of questions about being a G-man in the field. I guess I'll hold a certain amount of fascination for them in that respect. Of course, Walter has already impressed on Sylvia the need to be discreet concerning our relationship. I just have to hope she can explain that need to both her boys. I think it'll be ok. They're smart kids.

 "Don't run, guys...watch the edge of the deck!" Sylvia calls as her two sons come racing onto the dock towards us. Walter follows, his wet swimming trunks clinging to his powerful thighs. Oh baby. Now that is a sight.

"Mr. Mulder, Mr. Mulder!" Ben yells, "are you going to take Uncle Walter to see Star Wars, the Phantom Menace?"

Walter rolls his eyes as the boys reach their mother's beach towel and plop down next to her.

"If your Uncle Walter wants to go," I reply giving Walter a raised eyebrow.

"Ben thinks Uncle Walter could beat up Darth Maul. Gheez...kids," Roger interjects, the "sophistication" of a much older 11 year old showing through with well-aimed sarcasm.

"Well, he could!" Ben declares, pushing out his lower lip in a pout.

"Don't be a dork. He'd just shoot him with his Smith and Wesson," Roger replies sagely as Walter reaches my side and takes a seat on my beach towel. He picks his glasses out of Sylvia's shoe and starts to seat them on his head.

"Well your uncle is very good with his...gun," I reply, double entendre heavy in my words. Walter nearly chokes, sputtering, and he almost drops his glasses. Sylvia laughs like hell getting my innuendo. I knew I liked this woman. She's got my kind of dirty mind. Walter recovers himself and pushes his specs back onto the bridge of his nose giving me 'the look' which is one part exasperation and one part perspiration - producing that is - as in, I break out in a sweat and melt under its heat.

Ben punches Roger in the arm.

"See, told you."

"Hey..." Roger yelps in protest.

"That's enough boys. No more talking about people beating each other up or shooting them with guns, all right? That's not what the Jedi Knight's code is about remember?"

"Or the FBI's either," Walter rumbles, ruffling Ben's hair. "Why don't you two go get all of us some popsicles out of the freezer."

"Oh, that sounds like a great idea," Sylvia nods.

"Yeah!" both boys chorus together. They jump up and run back down the dock heading off towards the house.

Walter turns to me and cuffs the back of my head playfully.

"Gun my ass," he rumbles, in good-natured mock indignation. Then he barks a laugh when he realizes the implications of his own words. Sylvia is giggling like hell, and I'm struggling to control myself so I can answer him.

I reply, coughing slightly, "So, you want to take in Star Wars? I haven't had time to see it yet. We could take the boys."

"Mulder, do you know how many times those two have seen that movie?" Walter replies, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh come on, Walter. They'd love seeing it again. Besides, you know they enjoy spending time with you. Why don't you and Mulder take them," Sylvia suggests.

Walter smiles at his sister.

"Yeah, I guess I could be dragged into Reedsville to see it. The boys just happened to mention it's playing there," Walter chuckles.

"See, they want us all to go," I nod, smirking. "What about Monday evening?"

"Sure. We don't have to head back until Tuesday afternoon so a Monday evening show should be fine," Walter nods. "Work for you, Syl?" he turns inquiring of his sister.

"I think that would work great. Mom and I can do girl stuff and you all can do guy stuff. Sounds like a plan."

We're all nodding and agreeing as the boys come walking double-time back from the house. They're trying to hurry but not drop their load of five orange popsicles.

"Grandma only had orange," Ben states a little guiltily as they reach our side.

"My favorite," I enthuse. Ben brightens instantly and comes over to my side, carrying his two frozen treats. He hands me one and plunks down on the towel next to me. I smile and take the popsicle, pulling off the wrapper.

Of the two boys, Ben seems to really be warming to me. I'd have to admit I'm secretly pleased about it. I like both boys, but Ben reminds me a little of me before...well before Sam was gone. At nine he's largely untouched by the world but still with a sensitivity and maturity a little beyond his years. I was a lot like that I think. I like to think I was anyway. Roger, his older brother, at 11 is reminding me of Walter a lot. I think as he grows older he'll fill out and become a lot like his uncle physically. He already has glasses, and with his sometimes grave nature, I can see more than a little family resemblance between nephew and uncle. It's amusing but also rather touching to see. Roger seats himself next to Walter now and hands first his mother and then his uncle each a popsicle.

Sylvia and Walter both take the treats and peel them open as well. Sylvia takes a bite of hers.

"Thank you," she smiles at her two sons. Walter nods his thanks, his mouth full of frozen orange food.

"Welcome," Roger answers for both of them as Ben nods.

"So, how would you two like to go see Star Wars Monday night?" Walter asks, chuckling after he swallows his bite of popsicle.

"Oh man! Can we!?" Ben exclaims squirming in excitement next to me.

"Really?" Roger adds, eagerness written all over his face.

"Yeah. You guys...and uh, Mr. Mulder talked me into it. We can go Monday night. Pick a fairly early show time and we'll do it," he replies, smiling into their dancing eyes.

"All right," both boys reply, pumping their arms up and down in the time-honored gesture of boyish pleasure.

We all savor the popsicles as slowly as frozen snacks on a hot day will allow. Sylvia renews the sunscreen on her two sons and then the boys take off for another dip off the dock. Sylvia and Walter gather up the popsicle wrappers and sticks in a neat pile for later disposal.

Walter opts out in joining his nephews this time, instead choosing to stay on the dock with Sylvia and me. He removes his glasses again and then uses the sun blocking oil liberally, especially on the top of his head. When he's well-covered he moves to lie down on the towel.

"Shift over a bit, babe," he grunts, lying flat on his back, his arms down at his sides. He closes his eyes. I move over fractionally onto Sylvia's towel. She's lying on her stomach reading the latest edition of "American Artist" Magazine. I glance at her and seeing her engrossed, gently reach out and stroke Walter's chest. He brings a hand up to still mine on the flat of his pectoral. He cups my hand and draws it to his lips, kissing my palm tenderly. I extricate my hand and he opens his eyes and smiles at me.

I smile back and lie down on my stomach next to him, basking in both his and the sun's warmth. I can hear the buzz of insects over the water. The happy voices of Sylvia's two boys. I can hear Walter's steady breathing next to me and it's just about the most perfect moment I can remember in a very long time.

The three of us lie there in peace for the better part of an hour. I think I dozed off for a short time. I feel Walter shift and turn over at one point. As he does so I feel his hand pat my ass.

"Flip over. You're gonna come out uneven," he chuckles. I hear Sylvia shifting onto her back as well. We're all going to get a nice even baking I think as I roll over and wiggle to get comfortable.

Finally after a little longer, Sylvia sits up and clears her throat.

Walter sits up too and then so do I. She's glancing at her watch.

"As much as I hate to rain on this parade."

"Yeah, it's getting late. Mother will be back soon," Walter observes glancing up to the house.

"Right. I'll take the boys back up to the house if you two want to...go get cleaned up," she replies, taking in our greasy bodies.

"We'd better. I don't want to smell like 'Coppertone Coconut Oil' while I'm fixing dinner," Walter replies, running a large hand over his well-oiled chest. I feel my groin tighten instantly at the sight. Sylvia's watching my face and I know she got a glimpse of my unbridled lust for her brother before I could hide it.

"Uh...there's plenty of time before you have to fix the spaghetti and salad. I'm going to have the boys take a shower too and give them some apples and cheese to counteract the popsicles, anyway. Why don't the two of you...take your time getting back up to the main house. I'm sure Mom, and I and the boys can find something to do for a while," she replies, the tone of her voice whether she wants it to or not, suggesting Walter and I should have some time alone together.

I raise an eyebrow at Sylvia, my head turned away from Walter. Sylvia raises both of hers in return and wiggles them for good measure. Ah ha. Make that she wants to make sure I know she intends Walter and I to get some time alone. Yes sir, Sylvia's a class act. Roger Sr. is a very lucky man, I muse. I nod at her to signify I get her drift and then turn towards Walter.

"Yeah, big guy. Let's go make ourselves presentable chefs."

"Right. I really need to ditch the Pina Colada effect for starters," he rumbles sniffing the air ruefully. He doesn't seem to catch on that I'm lusting after him or that his sister is picking up on my desire to get him alone and jump his bones. For crying out loud. He's got to be as hot as I am after our interrupted interlude in the tree fort. But, Walter is still, on occasion, oblivious to his desirability. It just doesn't occur to him that he drives me wild sometimes. Evidently his sister is a lot more in tune and observant in such matters right at the moment. Lucky us.

Sylvia and I both huff a laugh as Walter retrieves his glasses again and slips them on. He picks up his towel as well.

"See you later, Sylvia. Tell the boys we'll...we'll find out about the movie schedule when we get back up to the house," I reply, standing up. Walter stands as well.

"Ok, guys," she smiles, gathering her magazine and reaching for her shoes.

I pick up my beach towel, and Walter collects the pile of discarded popsicle refuse and turns to head up the dock.

"Later, sis," he calls back over his shoulder, clearly expecting me to follow as he walks away.

"Thanks, Syl," I wink at her.

She giggles, "Hey, I know what it's like. Roger and I have trouble finding time for...well with two boys, you can guess," she replies, blushing a little.

"I hear you," I nod. "Later," I add, turning to follow Walter's well-muscled butt back towards the guest house.

"Enjoy," Sylvia laughs low and musically as I catch up with Walter and slap him on the back.

xXx

I stand outside the cottage sipping the last of the bourbon Walter poured for me. I can hear him in the shower, singing a snatch of 'Sittin' on the Dock o' the Bay', all the way out on the cottage's patio. He's busily working at degreasing himself under the spray since he took dibs on the shower first after we had our drinks. I agreed readily because this time I fully intend to join him. But first, I want to set the mood for my little surprise entrance into the bathroom. I walk back in through the sliding patio doors, shut them and draw the curtains quickly. I head over to the small stereo system that sits on top of the cottage's bookcase near the bed. I set the empty glass of bourbon down on a coaster that rests on top of the bookcase.

I search through the CDs that are racked up next to one of the speakers. I pick out four and insert them into the compact shelf unit's tray. The open room concept of the cottage should allow the airy classical string quartet numbers to be heard in any location - but especially the bed. I smile as I adjust the volume to a pleasing level. Yeah, I'm glad Walter likes his classical music as well as rock and roll. The four CDs of mood music should be a perfect touch for the remainder of the afternoon of lovin' I have in mind.

I push the tray gently closed and the music starts up after a moment. I turn and head for the bathroom.

When I walk through the door I see Walter's trunks lying over one of the vacant towel bars. I pull my trunks off and hang them next to his. I take a few minutes to focus on him in the shower. He's not directly under the spray, and his back's to me. His head's tilted up as he scrubs his scalp. I watch as he moves his hands down over his face and then down the front of his body, lathering the bar of soap over his muscular chest and then down further over his stomach and groin. At last he moves his hands between his legs. I can't see a full frontal view but Walter's well-endowed and his nicely sized scrotum as well as the tip of his cock hang low enough as he shifts forward for me to get a great view. He lifts his equipment to give himself a thorough going over. By the time he's done scrubbing his legs I'm nearly drooling. God...he's such a stud. I feel my cock stir as I make my way over to the sliding shower doors. I open them and step inside, shutting them behind me.

"I was wondering what took you so long," Walter chuckles, turning round to face me. He continues to soap up his chest, standing just out of reach, teasing me.

"Am I that predictable?" I tease back, grabbing for the soap and managing to snag it in my hands. I start to lather myself up too.

"You and Sylvia. She's transparent and predictable. Not that I'm complaining.

You...your pupils dilate when you're horny. So I knew what you two were arranging. I just went along with the plan," he growls, moving closer and retrieving the soap. "Besides, I did say rain check," he murmurs, indicating the shower spray with a raise of his eyes.

"Twice," I whisper.

"So will this do as a rain substitute?" he asks huskily, stretching his large hands out and running them over my chest. He rubs the soap around sensuously, cleaning as well as arousing me very quickly. He slides his thumbs over my soapy nipples and I moan in pleasure.

"Hmmm....yes...works for me," I murmur moving in closer as his hands travel lower. I mimic his movements, using my soapy hands behind him, pulling him close so I can soap his back and his ass while he strokes the bar with its lather into my pubic hair and finally over my cock and balls.

"Oh," I whisper...."Oh...." I add more quietly as he tenderly cleans me all over. He even scrubs down my legs and then back up again. Then he gently pushes us both back under the spray to rinse off. He drops the soap to the bottom of the tub. It makes a noisy thud and neither of us pay it any heed.

I cling to Walter and we just stand there in each other's embrace for a few minutes as the warm water washes us clean of soap and coconut scented sunblock.

Walter nuzzles my neck, giving me small kisses underneath my jawline. He's got a bit of an afternoon beard stubble already but the texture of fine sandpaper on my cheek is very erotic. I tilt my head back as he plunders my neck. After a few more seconds of mouth work on my carotid artery, he pushes me gently aside and turns off the faucets. The shower water stops flowing and he takes me around the waist. I let him reverse me so that my back is against the flat wall on the other side of the stall. He looks in my eyes for a moment and then grins lasciviously. I smirk back as he lowers himself down my body, nipping, sucking and licking as he goes.

"Oh Jesus, I love it when you come straight to the point," I sigh. I feel his husking chuckle on my pubic bone as he sucks and licks at the root of my growing erection.

"I've wanted this since the island. Since you were lying on the dock with me," he rumbles.

"Take it, then," I hiss and he winds one strong hand around the base of my rapidly swelling cock with a grunt of pleasure as his reply.

"God!" I exclaim as he slides his lips over the head and then I buck up slightly as his mouth claims all of me, slowly, right down to my balls.

On the backstroke he tongues the underside along the vein that pulses there and my head hits the shower stall wall with a hollow thump.

We quickly establish a good rhythm between his mouth and my hips that I know is going to get me as hard as a rock in very short order. I tilt my head back down to watch him really go to work. Just seeing my lover's bald head bobbing between my legs is enough to almost make me shoot my wad. I rest my hands on his scalp as his mouth works its magic.

He's tonguing the head of my cock now, running my pre-cum over the glans, playing with the slit in the end until I'm groaning. His left hand cups my balls, pulling and massaging them gently in time with the lapping of his tongue. Then he takes the head of my cock in his mouth again and works back up the shaft with a wet, sensuous slide of his lips.

"Christ," I hiss, speeding up my thrusts a trifle, thinking this is so good I'm going to go for it and come down his throat.

Walter moves back down my shaft quickly and releases me with a soft, slick sound.

"Oh ssshit," I mumble in protest, laughter bubbling up in my chest.

Walter stands up and presses close against me, gently thrusting the head of his cock into my thigh, keeping it tantalizingly away from mine. He plants his hands on either side of my head as he leans in and claims my mouth. I open my lips to him instantly and I can taste myself on his tongue as he devours me whole, driving my head back against the tiles again.

When he stops the passionate kiss he trails his hand down to cup my genitals.

"I didn't want you to come," he whispers. "I want you in me."

"Oh man, yeah," I reply, moving my head against his neck. We stand immobile for a few minutes, so that both of us can gain some more control. "Let's take this to bed," I whisper at last, my arousal tamped down to a less explosive level.

He nods, and I reach down and take the hand that's cupping my nuts. Our fingers entwine and I lead him out of the shower stall, snagging the wet washcloth he had hanging over the shower bar. He grabs a towel to take along for clean-up as well. We walk into the bedroom proper. Both of us are still damp and the AC makes our skin jump a bit. The combination of heat and cold isn't unpleasant however. In fact, it's even more arousing and both of us are kissing sloppily as I back Walter over to the bed.

"Nice music," Walter mumbles, smiling around my lips.

"You mean you noticed?" I reply, teasing him and biting at his lower lip afterwards.

"Damn straight," he replies as he avoids my teeth for a moment. His rumbling chuckle as I suck in his lower lip makes me moan into his mouth.

We pitch down onto the bed together, rolling, legs entangled, and the washcloth and towel go flying up onto the pillows. We wrestle - kissing, biting, sucking and grinding together, laughing at the heady roughness of our foreplay.

Walter ends up below me at last as I work my way down his body with my mouth. His cock's nearly as rigid as mine but not quite completely erect. When I reach it in my explorations, I start sucking to get him all the way up. He writhes under me, grabbing my head and forcing his cock to the back of my throat with a hard buck of his hips.

Finally I release him when he's fully erect and retrieve the lube I'd stashed in the night stand drawer. I decide to use a condom too. I think I'm going to need it to last to be quite frank. I'm really turned on after almost two days of wanting it and not getting it. I set the condom aside for the time being. He lies back again and I push on his knee, signaling that I want him to raise them both up to his chest. He does, and I begin to prep him for penetration.

I get two fingers in quickly and then the third, postillioning him just the way he likes it. He can't take it for long though, he's too hot. His breathless "I want your cock," makes me want to ram it in fast and hard. I smile and grab the towel to wipe my hands off so I can pick up the condom packet. I rip the packet open, shake out the condom and roll it down my length.

"Ok, big guy, let me get a pillow under your ass," I advise.

"Oh...uh...can you...I'd like it on top," he stammers. He's still shy about asking for what he wants sometimes and I always find it endearing. Walter really likes to feel my cock in deep. For him, riding me is where it's at a lot of the time. I enjoy it too. It's one fucking fine view to have him above me.

"Sure, lover," I smile and he smiles back at me. The love and lust in his eyes makes my breathing pick up even more. Both of us are breathing heavily now as I scoot over and lie down next to him. I plump the pillows up a little behind my head and then lie back, reaching my arms out to him.

"Come here," I whisper.

Walter knee walks the few inches it takes to get into position and then he levers up to sit just in back of my erection. He takes the bottle of lube from where I placed it on the bed, and pours some out on to his palm, warming it quickly. We both slick up my cock, our hands meeting and entwining several times, in intimate, loving touches. He reaches back and adds a little more between his ass cheeks. Finally, he grabs the towel and we both wipe the lube off our hands. I toss the towel aside.

"This is great, babe," he murmurs, bringing his hands down again to stroke my balls lightly.

"I like having you ride me," I assure him as he rises up on his haunches and shifts his butt forward over my cock. His legs tremble a little in his excitement. I grasp his forearms and he lowers himself carefully. I feel the head of my cock breach his anus.

"Oh man..." he hisses as he sinks down. I sense that I'm coming up against his sphincter.

"Take it slow," I warn him.

"Yeah...s'fine," he nods.

-END OF PART 16-
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