Some Days are Diamonds
by Claire Dobbin
He felt Alex's breath huff contentedly along the back of his neck, as the young
man fell instantly asleep, and he thought to himself, 'It can't be as simple as
this. Can it?' Then the tightness in his chest eased and the clamour of his mind
settled and that was answer enough for him. He made one decision, however, as he
rested his arm along Alex's where it lay across his stomach. Sometime soon, he'd
talk to Dr. Massie about what had happened between them. He'd been quick to warn
Alex off from discussing it with the doctor and that had been wrong. The
psychiatrist had shown from day one that his patients' interests were paramount.
He could be depended upon for honesty and directness and it was a risk Skinner
needed to take.
He dozed on and off, enjoying the intimacy of a shared bed, as dawn approached.
When the alarm clock display ticked off the minutes to five o'clock, Skinner
reluctantly turned and began to nuzzle the sleeper awake. At first resentful,
Alex twisted away, muttering aloud and to quiet him Skinner had no alternative
but to kiss him soundly. Suddenly very awake Alex responded, his morning
erection making its presence felt as he curled a leg over Skinner's hip. His
lover obliged him by slipping a hand down the front of his boxers and the sounds
that arose from Alex's throat made Skinner smile as he hastily put a hand over
his mouth and whispered an insistent, "Shhhh!"
Alex's eyes opened and he nodded his agreement, all the time continuing to
thrust into the firm grip on his cock. A quick but arousing kiss and Skinner
released his hold to efficiently strip them both of their underwear before
pushing up and leaning across Alex. The younger man deprived of the wonderful
sensation turned to watch as Skinner opened the drawer of the nightstand to get
the tube of KY he'd tucked into it the pervious night. Alex smiled his approval
up at Skinner as the older man squeezed out a generous amount into the palm of
his left hand and laced his fingers through Alex's, sharing the slippery stuff
between them. Lying down again beside his lover Skinner initiated a deep kiss
that Alex returned with interest as their hands parted and moved downwards
towards two fully primed cocks.
The angle may have been strange to them but the strokes were sure and confident
as they jerked each other off. Several blissful minutes passed before Skinner
circled his thumb around the head of Alex's cock and triggered the younger man's
release. Concentrating on the sensations rippling through him and the need to
remain silent, Alex's grip on Skinner's cock lessened and the older man added
his own hand and strength to reach a satisfying orgasm, his seed spilling to
mingle with his lover's, between their closely coupled bodies.
"Mmmm," Alex commented.
Skinner silently agreed and rolled onto his back, carrying Alex with him like a
sticky but comforting blanket. Promising himself fifteen minutes of togetherness
before he chased Alex back to his own bed he closed his eyes to savour each and
every one of them.
The Svetlov household was alive and humming from 7am onwards in preparation for
the arrival of Alex's sister, Olga, and brother, Peter. A quick breakfast and
the work began, Skinner pitching in happily. He and Alex changed the bed linens
and moved Skinner's stuff into Alex's room, to make room for the new arrivals,
as Vera had suggested. Arms full of sheets and their own laundry, the two of
them went down to the laundry room where they sorted the items and filled the
washing machine with the first load.
Delicious smells drew them into the kitchen, and they hovered, watching Vera
prepare the soup to be served at dinner that evening. After a few minutes of
tasting and stirring Skinner offered to mow the front lawn and Vera gratefully
accepted. Before going upstairs to get ready for church, she showed him where
the old-fashioned gas driven mower was kept and he and Alex pulled it out and
fiddled with it until they got it putt-putting satisfactorily.
Alex disappeared into the house, while Skinner started his first neat stripe on
the grass, and returned in a few minutes with a Boston Red Sox cap that he
placed on the older man's head, peak turned backwards. He then jogged up the
front steps, found a broom and began to sweep the length of the front porch.
Laughing, Skinner righted the baseball cap and steered the mower around the edge
of a flowerbed.
Vera came out of the house and they waved her off down the farm road. Returning
to his task, Skinner watched Alex covertly each time he mowed a swath of grass
towards the house. It was plain the man was pretty tense in anticipation of
meeting his siblings, so when Alex finished the sweeping and put away the broom
Skinner killed the mower's engine and suggested to him that he go have a talk
with Dr. Massie. Willingly enough, Alex headed for the study and when he
returned some forty minutes later, Skinner had the mowing finished and the
machine put away.
"Everything okay?" Skinner questioned.
"Yeah, I had to wait for him to call me back but we talked." Alex told him, and
then asked, "Want a beer?"
"Sure," Skinner said, sitting down on the porch settee.
A couple of minutes later Alex returned with the frosty bottles. Skinner took
his and drank the cool brew thirstily. Wiping his mouth he looked at Alex and
said, "About tonight, I think I'll drive into town for dinner." Before Alex
could comment, Skinner continued, "Those TV shows that turn family reunions into
a spectator sport have always made me cringe. You and your family need some
private time."
Alex looked deflated, but said nothing.
"You'll be fine..." Skinner put a hand on the young man's shoulder and squeezed.
"Are you going to the airport?"
"No, Mama's going to pick them up. She thinks it's better if they meet me here..."
"Then I'll wait with you until they arrive. I'll have to meet them anyway. Then
I'll go into town." He finished his beer and said, "Are you okay with that?"
"I guess so," Alex agreed, his voice sounding distant.
Skinner ran his hand down Alex's back in a gesture he hoped was reassuring and
said, "It's good being here with you."
He could tell his open admission surprised Alex, but the younger man agreed with
him. "Yeah, it is good..." he said softy, "...kinda weird though. I mean, who'd
have thought... after everything...?" he waved his hand between the two of them.
"I know," Skinner conceded, "I've read more believable X Files."
Alex's laughter pleased Skinner.
"But right now, your family takes priority, Alex. After that, we'll take
whatever time we need," Skinner told him.
He could see the younger man's confidence increase with the promise.
He stood up and pulled Alex with him. "Come on, that wash will be done, let's
get it in the drier."
By the time they finished the laundry, Vera had arrived home and they followed
her into the kitchen. Deciding to serve the meal at the kitchen table,, she
began to arrange the bunch of flowers she'd brought back with her for its
centrepiece. She was a little surprised at the news that Skinner wouldn't be
joining them. He could tell she was also grateful as she said, "You know you're
very welcome, don't you?"
"I know, Vera, but this is a family time."
"Well, I want you back for coffee, about 10 o'clock. Promise?" she requested.
He glanced at Alex's hopeful face and agreed.
They made some sandwiches for lunch and ate them in the shade of the back porch,
while Vera filled Alex in on all the details about his brother-in-law, Mark and
sister-in-law Frances. Skinner watched Alex take it all in and wondered if he
was getting the 'between the lines' info Vera was throwing in for good measure.
It was clear to Skinner that in Vera's estimation, Mark, had turned out to be a
good father and husband, despite her early misgivings, and that Frances was the
best thing that ever happened to Peter. A few astute questions from Alex told
him that the young man had picked up on the messages from his mother.
'Not surprising,' Skinner thought, 'he's always been good at reading people.'
He remembered the one interrogation he'd seen Alex conduct, while still with the
FBI. No raised voices, or theatrics, just a quiet insistence and a steely gaze
that produced the statement needed to close the case.
"If you'll excuse us, Skinner." Vera's words as she stood up, her hand extended
towards Alex, called him back to the present, "this is the last chance I'll have
to monopolize Alexander for a while."
Alex slipped her arm around his as they walked across the porch and down the
steps.
Vera smiled back at Skinner as together they turned the corner of the house.
Skinner cleared the little table and cleaned up the few dishes before taking a
shower and dressing for his trip to town. He took the opportunity to check his
email on the FBI secure server. There were four emails from Mulder requesting
Skinner contact him. The last one verged on rude. Skinner ignored them and dealt
with the others quickly. He disconnected from the net and went out to the front
porch to read the paper that had been neglected all day due to the preparations.
Voices drew his attention and he watched Vera and Alex return from their walk.
He got the impression from their demeanour that they'd had a genuine heart to
heart. He felt a stab of worry as he watched them. For the first time realising
how his relationship with Alex might jeopardize the one that was developing
between mother and son. A stab of guilt, too, at his willingness to put it to
the test. In a flight of fancy, he tried to imagine the kind of account Vera
would give of him, were he to become the third 'in-law'.
"I'd better get ready for the airport," Vera said, checking her watch. She
smiled nervously at them and went inside.
"Good talk?" Skinner asked.
"Real good talk. She likes you..."
"Giving your mom the hard sell?"
"Not necessary..." Alex murmured, his gaze sweeping over the older man from head
to foot, "...what's not to like?"
"Behave yourself," Skinner warned.
Alex's lascivious look told him that was unlikely. Something for which Skinner
was very grateful. But the young man backed off and lifted the sports section
from the paper, trying to hide his nervousness in the ordinariness of the
activity.
They read together silently until Vera re-emerged, dressed in a flowing silk
suit of blues and greens.
"I should be about two hours," she told them, "I've left a list on the
refrigerator of things to check on, and some things that need to be done. Will
you take care of it?" she asked them.
"Don't worry," Alex said as he stood to walk her to the car.
Skinner watched them exchange a few words, before Vera kissed Alex on the cheek
and got into the car. The young man stood at the edge of the lawn until the car
disappeared from the farm road. He returned to his place on the porch settee and
they both resumed their lazy trawl through the Sunday papers.
After a quiet hour Alex put down his paper and asked, "Want to check out what
needs to be done?"
Skinner nodded and followed him into the kitchen. The table was beautifully set
and the counter tops held all the makings of the dinner, carefully covered and
ready. Two saucepans simmered gently on the hob and Skinner took a look under
the lids before going to peer at the list clipped to the fridge door. He was
thinking that Vera had left them nothing too demanding when Alex's arm snaked
around his waist, pulling him in tight. He relaxed into the embrace as Alex
began to scent him through his shirt. It went no further than that, and they
stood for a long time, simply imprinting each other's physical presence.
"Alex," Skinner murmured.
"Uh-huh?"
"It's time to put the bread rolls in to bake..."
"Oh, okay." He released his hold on the older man and casually turned to switch
on the oven.
Skinner, trying to be just as casual, took the package of frozen rolls from the
freezer, opened it and placed them on a baking sheet, which he handed to Alex.
Working together they soon had everything done and returned to the settee on the
front porch. Instinctively they sat at either end and waited for the imminent
arrival.
Just as dusk began to take hold they saw the Vera's blue station wagon drive
slowly towards them. Skinner noticed the convulsive swallow Alex took as he
stepped down off the porch. He stood and watched the young man walk down to the
edge of the grass where the car had stopped. The front passenger door opened and
a tallish, brown haired woman eagerly stepped out. She took a moment to look at
Alex before throwing her arms around him and Skinner could clearly hear the
repetition of 'Alexander' as she held on. By then Vera and Peter were also out
of the car and they joined the other two in a family hug. That was Skinner's cue
to go indoors.
He turned off the oven and used a potholder to take out the rolls, which he
placed in a napkin-lined basket on the table. Excited voices preceded the
squeaking of the screen door and Skinner turned to see Alex, his face glowing,
come in flanked by his brother and sister. Only then, under the bright kitchen
light, did Skinner get his first good look at Peter Svetlov. The word 'clone'
sprang to mind. A younger, 'only one careful owner' clone. But a clone
nonetheless. The same shock of dark hair. The same delicately shaped green eyes.
The same build and physique. It was unnerving.
Only belatedly did he notice Olga. She was an attractive forty something, but
she favoured neither her mother, nor her brothers. 'Very much her own woman,'
Skinner thought, 'in every way.'
Alex was speaking. "Olga, Peter, this is Walter Skinner..."
Skinner reached out to shake Olga's hand as she said, "Mr. Skinner, Mom tells me
you've been looking after our Sasha?"
"Well... I..." He floundered, returning the firm grip of her hand.
"*Walter* has been kind enough to use some of his personal leave to make it
possible for Alexander to be with us..." Vera stepped in.
Peter reached out to shake Skinner's hand, "You're with the FBI?" Even the voice
was the same.
"Yes," Skinner answered, backing towards the door. "It's been good meeting you
both. Alex, Vera I'll see you... all... later."
"Thank you, Walter," Vera nodded to him.
He looked at Alex for a second before turning to leave. It was good to see his
family gathered around him, but in his heart he felt faint stirrings of jealousy
and self-doubt. Since the previous Monday, when he'd collected Alex from White
Oaks, the man had looked to him for everything. He'd even been, at times, what
Skinner would describe as 'needy', and though it had irritated him, like any
human being he had been flattered by it too.
Now suddenly Alex had a whole new family to support him, a family intent on
loving him and making him part of their circle. It was natural and right, and
Skinner felt like a jerk for feeling the way he did, but he couldn't help
wondering if Alex would still need him, still want him. Was the closeness and
the sex just a manifestation of Alex's need for emotional and physical contact
with another person?
Having no answers, and feeling a little lost, he left then, knowing that he'd
spend the night in a hotel.
When Skinner returned to the farm the next morning, Alex was still angry with
him, for staying in the city. Though not as angry as he'd been last night at the
end of their short phone conversation.
"Where are you?
"I'm at the Best Western in Sarasota."
"Why?"
"To give you and your family some breathing space."
Silence
"Alex?"
"When are you coming back?"
"First thing tomorrow morning."
"Fine."
And the line went dead.
Thinking about the brief exchange, Skinner looked around at the people seated at
the table as Olga brought him a cup of coffee. They seemed comfortable with each
other, even Alex. Though the only word Skinner had gotten out of him was a terse
'Morning'. Vera had told him they'd talked into the small hours and that they
were going to have a lazy day.
When Olga sat down she had a small bag in her hand. Opening it she said, "I
forgot about these last night, my boys made them for you Alexander." She took
out two homemade cards and handed them to Alex. Both of them had the words,
'Welcome home Uncle Alexander' on the front, together with a picture of a stick
person and a blue house.
Alex looked a little at sea as he told his sister, "These are good."
"Max is meticulous, but Alexander..." she glanced up at his face, "Alexander
needs to work on his spelling." She pointed to the unnecessary 'l' in the word
welcome.
He looked at it and smiled. "Well, he's better than his uncle at that age."
"I'll pin them up for you," Vera offered, taking the cards from Alex.
"I promised them they could talk to you when I call them today. Okay?" Olga
asked.
"Sure, but... what will I say?" he asked.
"Don't worry," Vera said laughing, "Max will do all the talking. Why don't we
talk to them now? It's after eleven, and you know how kids are..."
Looking at Alex, Skinner thought it unlikely that he knew anything about kids,
but he watched the young man go off with his mother and sister to make the call,
leaving him with... the clone. They looked at each other across the table,
warily. Skinner took a swallow of his coffee to cover the uncomfortable silence.
"My mom has been... evasive, to put it mildly, Mr. Skinner, about what happened
to my brother. I know better than to push her on the subject and she's made it
clear that we are not to bother Alexander. But I would like some information."
Skinner tried to quell the apprehension that leapt into his stomach, as he fixed
the man with one of his AD gazes. Peter Svetlov was not intimidated in the
slightest.
'This should have been better rehearsed,' Skinner thought, then said, "I can
understand your concern. To have a close family member returned to you so
suddenly..."
"For me, Alexander has not 'returned'," Peter interrupted, "I have no memory of
him. He was a photograph on a wall. Mom and Dad... no one talked about him much.
I suppose it hurt them too much. Of course, it goes without saying, that I'm
glad to have him here..."
Skinner searched the stranger's familiar face, and saw that Peter wasn't as good
at shuttering his feelings as Alex. Here was a man clearly torn between the love
that he felt for his family and the knowledge that he was no longer 'number one
son'.
"...but there are questions that need to be answered. Who took him? Why? What
happened to them?"
"I have only been involved in the case latterly," Skinner said, "and my interest
is due to the fact that Alex worked in my section for a time. Your mother
explained that I'm here on my own time."
"So you're not here in any official capacity?"
Skinner stood up and walked to the stove to top up his coffee cup in an attempt
to give himself some thinking time. He knew he'd have to give the man something.
When he sat down again he looked into the earnest face and said, "Your brother
was a witness in a major case. A case with implications for national security.
It was dealt with at the highest levels 'in camera'. That's why you won't have
heard of it. His evidence made it possible to bring a great many dangerous
people to justice and to remove a threat to our government." Skinner watched
that sink in before continuing. "Alex's abduction as a child placed him in
position to obtain this evidence, but it also means he has lived through many
unpleasant experiences, not least of which was losing his arm. The last couple
of years, in particular, have been traumatic and he... lost his way for a while.
Over the last year and a half the FBI has provided him with a secure environment
to help him come to terms with what he's been through. I am here in an official
capacity, in that I'm his supervisor on this visit."
Peter Svetlov looked stunned by what he had told him. In the silence between
them Skinner could hear the sound of laughter coming from across the hall and he
didn't want to be caught having this conversation.
"I've overstepped my remit in giving you this information, but I'll go further.
Alex poses no threat to your family. The men who abducted him are either dead or
incarcerated. This is truly a new beginning for him. I've watched him this past
week; he wants this very badly. I think he can make it but he's going to need
the support of all of you."
Peter nodded solemnly, obviously affected by what he'd heard.
"This is restricted material, it can go no further. Your mother already knows
and her approach is right. Don't push Alex on it, when he's ready he'll come to
you."
Voices could be heard outside in the hallway. "I'll leave the original FBI file
on the kidnapping in your room. It will give you an idea of what your parents
went through."
"Thank you, Mr. Skinner," Peter said.
"Please call me Walter," he requested, as the three others entered the kitchen.
"Absolutely," Vera agreed, "everyone on first name terms here."
"How did it go with your nephews, Alex?" Skinner asked, deliberately engaging
the young man.
Alex looked at him coolly, but answered, "They sounded great. They're really
looking forward to getting down here."
"I'll bet," Peter said. "A week off school at Grandma's. Alexander you'll be
their hero for life." That made Alex smile broadly and he put his hand on his
brother's shoulder as he moved past him, going back to his place at the table.
"Well before the children get here, why don't we take a picnic over to the
island this afternoon?" Vera suggested.
Peter snorted and remarked, "As long as Olga promises not to feed the seagulls."
"Am I ever going to live that down?" She asked, exasperated.
"After this length of time, Sis? Nah, not a chance."
Vera looked at Skinner and Alex and explained. "When Olga was about eleven we
took a fourth of July picnic over to Anna Maria Island. We set everything out on
the beach and just as we were about to start, Olga threw some bread out to a
seagull."
"Uh-oh," Skinner said, laughing.
"Yeah," said Peter, holding his hands out dramatically in front of him, "it was
like a scene from 'The Birds'."
"You've never seen people move so fast in your life," Vera told them.
"We all squeezed back into the car, with the food wrapped up in the tablecloth.
Dad was furious with me but then he started to laugh. We laughed all the way
home and had the picnic in the backyard." Olga said, caught in the happy memory.
"Alexander, you should have been there..."
The laughter ended in an awkward silence.
Skinner looked from one to another and cleared his throat. "If I may make an
observation?" No one answered so he continued. "Yes, he should have been there,
Olga, but he wasn't. And walking on eggshells is going to become very tiresome,
don't you think?"
Alex looked at him as if he'd thrown him a lifeline, and Skinner knew he was
forgiven.
"He's right." Alex said firmly. "I'm not made of eggshell, believe me."
He and Skinner exchanged a knowing smile.
"Okay," Olga said going to check the refrigerator, "so I'm taking orders for
lunch..."
On Tuesday morning Skinner woke up to the sight of Alex sprawled out across the
narrow twin bed only a few feet from his. He had kicked the sheet off in the
night and it lay draped on the floor at the foot of the bed. His white tee shirt
was hiked up exposing his belly button and the navy boxers were tenting slightly
with his morning hard-on. The longish, dark hair stuck out in all directions and
he breathed heavily and regularly through his open mouth, making the pillow
below it damp. With the flush of sleep on the open face, the overall effect was
enough to stir Skinner to instant arousal.
But remembering they were separated from Alex's brother by only a bedroom wall
he reined in his desire and rolled over onto his back, stifling a needy moan.
Whatever else he felt for Alex, he was most definitely 'in lust' with him and
these sleeping arrangements were going to become torture before very long. He
sighed heavily realising there was little to be done about it, other than limit
the amount of time they spent together in the room. He knew from the restless
tossing and turning of Alex the previous night that he was in the same boat. It
must have been well after 1am before they'd fallen asleep.
So though it was only 6.30am Skinner decided to take his own advice and not be
there when Alex eventually woke up. He gathered his things silently, and putting
on his robe, left the room. The bathroom was at the end of the upper floor and
was separated from the bedrooms on one side by the airing press and on the other
by the stairway to the attic. Knowing that despite the age of the house, the
plumbing wasn't noisy, he locked the bathroom door and took a soothing shower,
finishing it with water cool enough to dampen his remaining ardour.
He shaved and dressed at leisure, before tidying the bathroom and dropping the
wet towels into the hamper. Passing their bedroom, he tiptoed in to put away his
things, and nearly undid all his good work. Alex had turned to sprawl on his
front, pulling the boxers so tight they moulded themselves around the perfectly
shaped ass. Above it was visible a broad, smooth back that curved to a trim
waist, below it the sweep of lightly furred long legs...
Skinner moaned quietly for the second time and firmly closed the door on what
was rapidly turning from his fondest dream to his worst nightmare. Activity, he
decided was best the solution and he went down into the kitchen, to put on the
coffee and set the table. He was just finishing when Vera came in and wished him
good morning.
He returned her greeting and opened the back door to look at the cloudless blue
sky. "Looks like it's going to be another fine day," he remarked.
She stood beside him and followed his gaze. "You know, Walter, in Florida you
tend to take them for granted, but I agree with you, I think it's going to be a
real fine day."
He smiled at the woman, delighted by her happiness, and pleased to have been
part of it. "Is there anything you need done today?" he asked.
She went to pour them both coffee, "I'll need some stuff moved in the attics,
that's where they children will sleep. My neighbour is going to bring over some
roll away beds this morning. Then Olga and I can give the rooms a good clean and
airing. It's been a while since they were used."
"Just tell me what you need," he offered.
"Actually, there is something..." she said, hesitantly, "...there are some things
up there that belonged to Alexander... if the children are going to be there,
well you know how they're into everything... maybe some day, he and I will go
through them... not this time though..."
Skinner nodded in understanding. "Do you want to take care of it now?" he asked.
"That would be good," she said.
Together they quietly climbed the two flights that brought them into the attic.
Skinner was surprised to find the top floor was as bright and spacious as the
rest of the house. The two rooms each had large dormer windows to the front and
rear that let in the morning sunshine. The floor space was mostly clear but
there were an assortment of cupboards around the walls and each of them had one
corner full of the usual clutter from a household that could find no other place
to rest.
"The kids will love being up here, you know," she said softly, emptying out a
carton. "It's over here."
She opened up a small, pine wardrobe and stood very still as she looked inside.
"I haven't looked at this in a long time," she told him.
He watched her carefully take out a pile of tissue wrapped items. Between the
folds of paper he recognised many items of baby and toddler clothing, a soft,
yellow blanket with a ragged edge, several well loved and well used toys, a pair
of bronzed baby shoes on a wooden base. They were all placed reverently into the
carton. Lastly, she took out an old candy box, its pink ribbon fraying. Opening
it, she said, "He was always making things, drawing pictures."
Inside Skinner could see a collection of natural and household objects that had
once been important to a four-year old boy. Time had rendered them formless to
Skinner's eyes, but it was clear Vera remembered the significance of each one.
From the bottom of the box she took out an old Christmas card, unfolding it to
show how the inside had been used for drawing paper. On it a snowman defied the
laws of nature by standing on a green lawn, under a clear blue Florida sky with
a big yellow sun. His twig-like hands waved crazily, at a red blob, no doubt
intended to be Santa, who hovered in mid air beside him.
They chuckled at the image, before Vera folded it up and put it back into its
place. Putting the candy box into the carton, she closed the flaps and
straightened up.
"We'll put it in with the water tank," she told him and he followed her,
carrying the heavy box to the far end of the attic. A small door opened onto a
crawl space and Skinner manoeuvred the carton through it, and closed the door.
Vera nodded her approval and they went back down to the kitchen and started
breakfast.
Olga appeared soon after, greeting them cheerfully and bringing in the morning
paper, which she handed to Skinner, encouraging him to sit at the table. She
poured herself a large mug of coffee and glanced at the clock, remarking, "We'll
need to get started Mom, it won't be long till it's time to go to the airport."
"Hmmm..." her mother agreed, cracking eggs into a bowl. "French toast, okay?"
"Uncle Paul's recipe?" Olga asked.
"Of course."
"Then yes please." She looked at Skinner, asking, "Has Mom made this for you
yet?"
He shook his head.
"You are in for a treat," she promised, going to the fridge to take out the
container of milk, before continuing, "So, who's going to the airport?"
"It'll take two cars, with the bags. I thought Peter would go in the rental and
you could take my car. I'll stay here."
"What about Alexander?"
Vera looked past her and said, "Why don't you ask him?"
Skinner put down his paper to watch Alex enter the room, still un- showered and
unshaven, and looking good enough to eat. Skinner fervently hoped the French
toast would be ready soon, as he retreated behind the sports section. From the
telltale sounds he could visualise the way Olga was fussing over Alex, hugging
him, settling him at the table, getting his orange juice and coffee. He smiled
behind the newsprint and couldn't resist taking a peek at Alex's discomfiture,
thinking, 'That's going to get old very quickly.'
But when he laid the paper on the table to turn a page, he saw Alex beaming up
at Olga, clearly loving the attention. It irked him and he gained the man's
attention with a crisp, "'Morning, Alex."
"'Morning, Walter," the cool tone and sad expression letting him know exactly
what Alex thought of being left asleep and alone in their bedroom.
Unmoved, Skinner shook out his paper and hid behind it again. A few seconds of
normality and then a foot slid between his thighs and rubbed sensuously against
his crotch.
"Uh... Jesus...!" he spluttered, mangling the paper in his fists.
He lowered it to see a smirking Alex and the two women looking at him
quizzically.
"Umm..." he glanced down at the paper, "it's just that the Celtics were beaten
last night. I apologize for the language."
Vera and Olga looked at him in a patronising kind of way and returned to the
stove. He turned his furious gaze on Alex who was totally unrepentant, deciding
it was time to explain the rules of engagement to the thrill seeker.
"Alex, could you take a look at one of my tyres for me. I think I picked up a
stone yesterday, it's looking a little flat."
Vera turned round, "Walter, breakfast's almost ready,"
"This won't take a minute," Skinner promised sweetly.
Once outside, he frogmarched Alex out of earshot and rounded on him, "What the
hell are you doing?"
Alex looked at him warily, "I didn't mean..."
"Didn't think, you mean." Skinner snapped, but the anger was gone. "It was a
stupid thing to do, Alex, and... you embarrassed me."
"I'm really sorry," Alex said, "it's just... this is hard, you know..."
Skinner grinned at him, "Tell me about it." He put an arm around Alex's
shoulders and turned them back towards the house, "Come on let's go eat."
Peter was at the table when they re-entered the kitchen and they all sat down to
breakfast.
Skinner helped himself to two slices of the toast and bit into the first one,
sharing a moment of ecstasy with Alex who had just done the same thing.
"Mmmmm..." they both murmured.
"Told you," Olga said.
But Skinner was too busy eating to reply. Glancing occasionally at Alex he
thought to himself that if sex was off the menu, Vera's cooking would go a hell
of a way to make up for it.
A second batch of toast later, Olga picked up the conversation about the day's
arrangements.
"Alexander, are you going to come to the airport with Peter and me?"
Skinner deliberately looked away from Alex, wanting him to know these were his
decisions to make.
"Yeah, I'd like to go," he told her, after a moment's hesitation.
"Okay, that's settled." She looked pleased and reached behind her to the counter
to pick up a small notepad and pencil, which she flipped open. At the sight of
it, Peter picked up Skinner's discarded newspaper and began to read.
"Right," Olga continued, "I've called Giler's Photography in Sarasota. They're
sending someone over on Friday to do the portraits. And..." she said with
emphasis, looking at Alex and Peter critically, I've made appointments at
Giuseppe's for you both, and my boys. You could all do with a trim."
Skinner looked at Alex's hair. It was longer than he'd ever seen it before and
he agreed with her that it did need trimming, just so long as it wasn't that
god-awful buzz cut that brought back unwelcome memories.
"Olga, take my name off the list," Peter was saying calmly, fixing her with a
level stare.
She ignored him.
"Mom..." Peter said, never breaking eye contact.
"Olga, dear, please take Peter's name off the list," Vera asked reasonably.
Olga gave her brother a cool look and dramatically put a line through his name
on the page. Skinner recognised it as the action of someone who knew they'd get
their own way in the long run. Feeling vindicated, Peter smiled at Alex and
returned to reading the newspaper.
Alex seemed a little at sea with the exchange, so Skinner ran his hand over his
bald head and said to Olga, "What a shame I'm not a member of the family."
The comment drew a hearty laugh from everyone at the table and they went on to
finalize the agenda for the day, Skinner feeling he was very much part of it
all.
"Vera," Skinner called up the attic stairway, from the upper landing.
She came to down to him and he said, "They're here."
He let her precede him down the main staircase and when she went out the main
door he held back, feeling uncomfortable.
A babble of voices outside and then he heard his name, "Walter?"
Vera came back in through the front door and beckoned him. "The children want to
play outside so we're going to sit on the porch."
He followed her out, into the kind of happy chaos he knew from his own family.
The adults all engaged in catch-up chitchat and the children, circled on the
lawn, arms outstretched, mimicking the roar of airplanes, as they shook off the
confinement of the journey. At the centre of it all Alex looked a little lost.
"Walter," Vera introduced him, "this is Frances, Peter's wife," he shook her
hand, "and this is Mark, Olga's husband."
The man stood and returned his handshake with a firm grip. "Pleased to meet you,
Walter. Let me get the kids."
He walked to the porch railing and called out, "Hey kids, up you come and say
hello to Mr. Skinner."
The oldest boy broke out of the circle pattern and zoomed up the path and steps
to stand in front of his Dad, the other two following his lead.
"This is Max," the proud father said, his hand resting on the boy's head, "and
this is Alexander. Say hello," he prompted.
"Hello, Mr. Skinner. Pleased to meet you, sir." He held out his hand. Skinner
shook it, figuring to himself the boy was about eleven years old.
"Hello, Mr. Skinner. I'm Alexander," the younger boy said, also holding out his
hand. He looked about seven to Skinner's eyes. They both resembled their mother,
but had their father's fair colouring.
"Pleased to meet you boys," Skinner said, "no school today, huh?"
"No school all week," Alexander told him, in a conspiratorial whisper. "Dad told
Mrs McKay we had a tummy bug."
"Mark," said Olga, exasperated, "you didn't!"
"Well, you didn't tell me what to say, Olga." Mark defended himself.
Skinner smiled at the boys and mimed zipping his lips shut. Then he looked down
at the little girl. "And this is?" he questioned.
Peter came over and scooped her up into his arms so she was level with Skinner's
face.
"This is Maria Vera Svetlov," he announced.
"Pleased to meet you Maria Vera," Skinner responded, smiling at the child who
was so like her father and her uncle it took him back a little.
'This is what Alex's child would be like,' he thought to himself.
She looked at him with very serious eyes and said, "We came to see Uncle
Alexander. He got lost."
Skinner could feel the emotional charge in the air, caused by the child's simple
words. He glanced at Alex, who looked stunned, before turning back to Maria.
"But now you have him back."
She nodded her head enthusiastically, the dark pigtails bobbing in time.
"Okay, you kids," Peter said, breaking the mood and putting her down, "off you
go."
Immediately the three aircraft came to life and buzzed away, down the steps and
onto the grass.
The grown-ups were left a little uneasy with each other, until Frances spoke,
"That's a child for you, the direct approach. Usually the best one, I've found.
" She turned to Alex. "I didn't get a chance at the airport, with all the
excitement, but I just wanted to say, I'm really glad you're back with the
family, Alexander."
"Thank you," he told her.
Mark cleared his throat. "I'd like to second that. There's always been a hurt in
this family that no one talked about. I can't even imagine what it must have
been like for you all, but everything feels different today. Welcome home,
Alexander."
Alex nodded at him and watched as Olga put her arm around her husband and kissed
him on the cheek.
"Come on, love," she told him, "help me bring the snacks out from the kitchen."
They disappeared inside together.
Skinner went to sit on the porch settee next to Frances, as the family banter
resumed. He smiled encouragingly at Alex, sitting close to his mother and still
looking a little dazed.
"Here we go," Olga said carrying out a huge tray of snacks and putting them on
the folding table in front of the settee. Mark followed with a pitcher of
lemonade and a cooler of beer. When he returned from the kitchen a second time
with the glasses and napkins, they all helped themselves to the food.
"Max, Alexander, Maria," Vera called out, "come up for something to eat."
"Yes, Grandma, " they chorused, breaking off their game.
Max and Maria headed for the tray, but Alexander went to stand before his Uncle
Alex.
He looked at him for a long moment before asking, "What's wrong with your arm?"
Olga choked on her lemonade and everyone else went very still.
Alex returned the boy's gaze for an equally long moment and asked, "You mean
this... bionic arm?"
He held the prosthesis out and made some robot-like movements with it.
Alexander's eyes opened wide. "Cool," he said, motioning over his brother, the
little girl following in the wake of her cousins.
"Show Max," Alexander requested and Alex obliged.
Skinner, along with the other adults, let out the breath he didn't know he was
holding, and watched as the children helped themselves to snacks and squeezed
into spaces beside Alex on the couch. Not able to read with any accuracy the
expression the man wore, it seemed that Alex was coping well with the sudden
fascination of the children.
Of course, as is the way of butterflies and children, the fascination didn't
last very long, and within minutes all three of them disappeared off round the
corner of the house in search of new wonders.
Sitting back in the old, comfortable porch settee, Skinner watched how hard Alex
worked at being part of the conversation that flowed back and forth between the
people around him. It was plain he was singularly unskilled at what came so
naturally to the average person. Because of his and Alex's shared past and FBI
background, finding things to talk about hadn't proved to be a problem. But
Skinner was beginning to realise that life in the shadowy world of the
Consortium or behind the walls of White Oaks, had left Alex without the cultural
shorthand that was the foundation of all social interaction.
He helped and prompted where he could and was relieved to see Vera do the same.
He was even more relieved when Vera, Olga and Frances decided to go off in
search of the children, who had been worryingly quiet for while, and left the
four men to talk sports. This was a subject about which Alex was knowledgeable
and felt comfortable. And when, every now and then, it veered off on a tangent
into stock portfolios and career prospects, Skinner steered swiftly them back on
course. With intensity, they debated and argued, until the light began to fail
and the noises and smells from the kitchen told them dinner was being prepared.
"We'd better bring in the bags," Mark suggested, realising that in all the
excitement they had been forgotten.
"Frances brought Maria's portable crib," Peter said to his brother, "can you
help me put it up?"
"Sure," Alex replied, a smile playing on his lips.
Mark and Skinner distributed the baggage round the various rooms, while Peter
and Alex set up the little girl's bed beside her parents'.
"That attic is too big and scary for Maria," Peter explained, "and they are way
too rough." He pointed upward to the floor above, where Max and Alexander were
tearing around, investigating their new territory.
From the hallway came the sound of Olga's voice, "Not so crazy, you two. Come
down and wash up, dinner's on the table."
She gathered the rest of them up and together they sat down at the big kitchen
table to a noisy and delicious dinner.
Skinner found himself watching Alex's reactions to it all. To the way Mark led
them in saying Grace, to the way Alexander had to have his vegetables on a
different plate from his meat, to the length of time it took to get a tiny
amount of food into Maria. Alex seemed to be fascinated. Skinner also noticed
how he carefully kept the prosthesis out of sight below the table, able to do
without it because of the dexterity he had achieved with his right hand.
When the meal was over Frances took Maria up for her bath and Olga recruited
Peter and Mark to help with the dishes. She shooed her mother and Skinner and
Alex out of the kitchen and they took the two boys with them to watch a little
television.
In a little while, Frances came downstairs with Maria ready for bed in her
nightclothes.
"Maria, wants a Grandma-story," Frances told Vera.
"I've been saving one specially for you," Vera told the little girl, tickling
her tummy and making her giggle. She turned to her son. "Alexander, can you
carry Maria upstairs for me?" she asked.
Alex hesitated momentarily before standing up and taking the child from her
mother's arms. When Maria reached out for him, he gave Skinner a worried look,
but it quickly changed to a smile as she wrapped her arms around his neck and
held on tightly.
"Okay sweetheart," Vera said, "up the wooden hill to dreamland."
And the three of them left the room.
The two boys lying on the rug, gazing at the flickering T.V. screen were
beginning to get sleepy, when it occurred to Skinner that he needed to find a
more secure storage place for his FBI issue weapon than the drawer of the
nightstand in the room he shared with Alex. He excused himself to Frances and
quietly climbed the stairs to retrieve it, intending to ask Vera if there were
somewhere lockable he could store it. As he reached his bedroom door, the
melodic sound of Vera's voice, coming from the next room, drew his attention and
he couldn't resist taking a look inside, realising that Alex had remained with
his mother.
A shaded lamp filled the room with a soft light, and he could clearly see the
small form of Maria, already fast asleep, on the crib beside the double bed.
Vera sat on the bed, in the shadow, the light falling like a halo on the book
she was reading from. At first he couldn't see Alex, but as his eyes adjusted to
the dimness of the room, he began to realise that the shadow he thought was
Vera, was too bulky for the woman. It was, in fact, Vera and Alex. She, holding
his hand, while he leaned against her back, his chin resting on her shoulder, to
follow the words as she read.
Skinner stepped back, embarrassed by his intrusion into the moment. He silently
retreated down the stairs, forgetting why he'd climbed them. In the living room,
the noise of the T.V. and the chatter of the rest of the family who had gathered
there, covered his contemplation of what he'd seen And when Alex and his mother
came back to the room, looking unchanged, it was as though he had imagined it.
The reality of it, too strange to be part of the man he'd known as Alex Krycek.
Skinner broke his self-imposed rules that night, and when the household was
quiet he slipped into Alex's bed and wrapped his arms around him. Nothing
sparked between them because they were both emotionally drained by the events of
the day. Lying, closely pressed together in the narrow bed, they talked in
whispered tones, about all that had happened.
Unexpectedly, Alex changed the subject to tell him, "Mama wants to invite the
rest of the family here on Saturday."
"Oh?" Skinner questioned. "How do you feel about that?"
"It'll be okay," Alex answered. "It's the only thing she's asked of me."
"Yeah, that's true," Skinner. "I guess it has to happen sooner or later."
"Mmm," Alex mumbled, rubbing his cheek against Skinner's shoulder.
"Did she...?" Skinner began, then stopped.
"What?" Alex lifted his head to look into his face.
"Am I going to be there?" he asked.
Alex looked annoyed. "Damned right, you're going to be there."
"It's different with your immediate family, but isn't my presence going to see a
little odd to other people?"
"That's their problem, Walter," he whispered vehemently.
"Ssshh!" Skinner warned.
Alex relaxed in his arms. "I'll talk to Mama about it, but you're going to be
there."
"I can always spend the day in the city. There are a few things..." but he didn't
finish, sensing the resistance in Alex to the suggestion.
"Okay, okay," he relented, "we'll work something out."
He kissed Alex lightly on the lips and reluctantly left the warm embrace to
climb into his own bed.
Over the next two days, Skinner drove into Sarasota several times. No matter how
welcome the family made him feel, he thought it only right that they should have
time together without an 'outsider', because whatever he was to Alex, that's
what he was to the rest of family. In all honesty, he found it a relief to get
away. The atmosphere at the farm was very intense and ambiguity of his position
made him uncomfortable at times. It also helped to relieve another pressure. All
night long, he and Alex slept chastely, kept apart by thirty-six inches of empty
space and will power. All day long, Alex seemed to be at his elbow, touching
him, jostling against him, constantly reminding him of what was off limits. It
was slowly driving him crazy. He couldn't remember being so horny.
On Friday morning, Skinner stepped out of the shower to realise he'd forgotten
to get fresh towels from the airing press, next door. He put on his bathrobe and
opened the door, checking that the coast was clear before zipping into the
walk-in cupboard to retrieve what he needed. Inside he found Alex on a similar
mission. Surprised, they'd laughed for a few seconds, until the nearness and
scent of each other worked its magic and Alex reached past him to pull the door
shut. Skinner found himself in the dark, testing the 'bounciness' of the fabric
softener, as Alex pushed him against the neatly folded bath sheets. Suddenly,
Alex was licking and kissing his way across the V of chest left uncovered by
Skinner's bath robe, and in response, Skinner slid his hands down to cup the
full ass cheeks and knead them roughly.
That brought their cocks into contact and forced a groan from Skinner. The sound
of it halted Alex dead in his tracks.
"Oh God, Walter... we have to stop..." Alex whined.
"...you started it..." Skinner managed to say, sensing the closeness of Alex's
mouth.
It ghosted across his own, as Alex said, "I was provoked... officer..."
Skinner snorted quietly and said, "We'd better get out of here."
He felt Alex nod agreement and allowed himself to be pulled away from the door
before the other man opened it to let in a sliver of daylight.
Through the small opening, Alex scanned the landing for signs of life. There
were none, and they both slipped out to go their separate ways.
Having been lucky enough to get away with that indiscretion, Skinner decided it
would make sense to head out for some down time and he excused himself to Vera,
promising to bring her back a few items she needed from the city.
He returned in the evening to find himself enlisted as a babysitter on the
children's outing the next day.
"You'll have a wonderful time, Walter," Olga told him, "I have the whole day
planned. Here's your copy of the schedule."
His eye ran down the typed page, with attached leaflets and map. It began with a
visit to The Gulf coast Wonder and Imagination Zone. 'One of the finest hands-on
science and technology centres in the country', boasted the literature. Next up
was 'Pelican Man's Bird Sanctuary', open-air rehabilitation centre to 55
different species of Florida birds. Lunch was to be consumed in the cafeteria of
the Bradenton Children's Petting Zoo, and was to be followed by a two- hour tour
of said location.
He looked up at Olga seeking clemency, but none was forthcoming. Instead she
smiled cheerily and said, "It will be fun and educational for the children and
it will give Mom, Frances and I time to get everything ready for Saturday."
"That's... great..." said Skinner, lamely, and followed her into dinner.
When Alex looked up from the table and smiled at him, he smiled back and any
chagrin he felt melted away.
"Have a good afternoon?" asked Peter, who like Mark and Alex, had spent the
better part of the day doing Olga's bidding around the house.
"Um... fine thanks," he replied, folding his schedule to put it in his pocket.
Mark nodded towards it and said, "You're up to speed on tomorrow, I see Walter."
"Yes," he lied, "I'm looking forward to it."
Peter smirked at him. "Oh yeah, I can tell."
The party was up, dressed and fed by 8am the following morning, ready to hit the
road. Olga supervised the loading of the two cars. Peter and Mark were in
Peter's rental, with Maria, who was strapped into her car seat in the back.
Beside her sat Alexander. Skinner and Alex were in the other rental, with Max
carefully belted into the rear seat. Olga had seen to it that the trunk of their
car was equipped with supplies for every contingency, short of a blizzard.
The three women waved them off and Peter lead the way out onto the main road.
Skinner followed at a carefully judged distance, but they didn't get very far
before the car ahead signalled right and pulled over onto the hard shoulder.
Skinner did the same and he and Alex rolled down their windows when Peter and
Mark got out of the car and walked back to them.
"Care to do a little revision on the day's itinerary?" Peter asked, as he and
Mark leaned on the open windows.
Alex took his copy out of his pocket and looked at it.
"What had you in mind?" Skinner asked.
Mark pulled half a used envelope for his shirt pocket. "We were thinking that a
trip to 'Planet Fun—Ride 'n Roll', over on Cortez, would get the day off to a
good start," he told them. "Then lunch at 'Chuck E. Cheese' on 44th Avenue
West."
"Yeah," said Max enthusiastically from the back.
"And of course, no day is complete without a couple of hours at 'J.P. Igloo's
Skaterama' in Ellenton."
Skinner grinned at Mark and told him,"I think I could endorse that revision."
"But..." said Alex, holding up his photocopied schedule, "...Olga said..."
Four pairs of eyes regarded him coolly.
He stared back.
Then his concerned expression changed to an evil smirk.
'And we have contact', thought Skinner with satisfaction.
They could hear Alexander's roar of approval when his Dad got back in the car
and told him of the change in plan.
Nine hours and several forays into the world of junk food later, they returned
to the farm. The children were sticky, sweaty and exhausted, but very happy. So
were the grown-ups. At both the venues, Skinner had been content to hover near
the creche, where Maria played happily, while he watched Alex and the others.
Alex had had a go on everything, and had willingly waited in line with Max and
Alexander the extra minutes to get on the front car of each roller coaster.
Skinner found himself wondering if Alex had ever spent a day in this way before.
The man's reaction to it had been more in tune with that of the children than
with his brother and Mark.
However, he hadn't been so keen on the petting zoo. Coming out of the Igloo,
stripping off the extra sweaters Olga had so thoughtfully provided, Maria asked,
"Can we pet the bunnies now?"
Peter's paternal instinct kicked in at that and they detoured to spend thirty
minutes at the zoo, where Skinner discovered that cute, fluffy animals were
never going to be Alex's thing.
Arriving back home, the children bounded up the porch steps, reviving at the
excitement of sharing their day with Mom and Grandma.
"Mom," Alexander called out going into the kitchen, "we went on 'The Drop of
Death' twice..."
But it was clear Olga had other things on her mind. "Did you sweetheart? I'll
bet that was fun. Now, don't touch anything and don't go into the dining room.
We're going to have supper out in the back yard tonight."
"We petted the bunnies," Maria told her mother.
Frances knelt down and hugged her daughter. "Did Daddy take you to wash your
hands after, Baby?" she asked.
"Uh-uh," Maria said, shaking her head.
"Peter," Frances said, a little irritated, "you'd better take the children to
wash up. "
Peter shepherded Maria and the two boys out, grinning at getting away with the
deception so easily.
Alex spent the rest of the evening with his mother and Olga going through the
family photo albums again, learning the names and relationships of the people
within them. Skinner, Frances and Mark took the boys out for a walk to the
river, while Peter put Maria to bed and sat with her. Once back in the house
Skinner took a shower and went to bed. He lifted the paperback he was reading,
but when he found himself reading the same paragraph for the fourth time he gave
up and switched off the light.
The next thing he remembered was the bleeping of his wristwatch that told him it
was six thirty. He glanced over to find Alex's bed empty. That surprised him and
he dressed to go looking for him. He didn't have to go far. Alex was in the
kitchen with Vera helping to clean up after the bread making. The air was heavy
with the warm, yeasty smell. On the counter rested a basket lined with a white
linen cloth, heavily embroidered in red. Skinner knew that, following the
Russian custom, it would be filled with the fresh bread and set out as a
welcoming token for the arriving guests.
The thought of it brought his worries into focus. He sat down at the kitchen
table and thanked Alex for bringing him a mug of coffee. He stared into it for a
while and only looked up to watch Vera sit down in the seat opposite him.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
He looked past her to the man resting against the kitchen counter.
"Alex wants me to be here for the party, but I don't feel comfortable about that,
Vera," he told her honestly. "Don't get me wrong, this isn't about you or the
family, this is about me. I don't think it's my place, is all."
He regretted the hurt look he put on Alex's face with the words. Daily it was
becoming clearer to him that Alex was investing more and more in their
relationship. It was something he wanted, but it was something he never thought
he'd see. Very much a case of 'be careful what you wish for'. If Alex was sure
this was what he wanted, and was prepared to make the commitment, then it put
the ball firmly back in Skinner's court. He enjoyed their physical relationship,
and the growing closeness between them. He loved seeing Alex open up to his
family and to him. Yet something in him held back from facing the bigger issues.
He could see nothing beyond the end of this brief stay in Florida.
He knew that the root of it all was trust. The chasm between Alex and trust
would not be easily bridged.
And niggling away at him was the worry that he was expecting a 'normal' reaction
from a man whose life, so far, had been a complete screw-up and who'd just spent
a year and a half in a mental institution.
Was that a reasonable expectation?
"Walter," Vera said, calling him from his reverie, "you do what feels
comfortable, but let me explain something about Russian hospitality. A guest is
an honour to the household. That's how I treated you; that's how I'll treat the
people who come today. You, like them, are my guest, and as such you will be
accepted without question. Anything else would be rude."
She glanced back as her son, before continuing. "Alex wants you here, and so do
I."
He looked from one to the other, knowing there was no way he could refuse the
invitation.
"Okay," he shrugged his shoulders, "so, if I'm going to be here, I may as well
be useful. What can I do to help?"
Alex beamed at him and he was glad about his decision.
"I thought you could help Mark with the bar," she suggested.
"Sure, I can do that," he agreed.
"Great, we're all set then," she told him, "now let's get breakfast."
The rest of the day was a blur of activity and before he knew it, it was 4pm and
he was sitting with Alex and Vera in the kitchen awaiting the first arrivals. He
was trying not to watch the younger man, who was getting more frayed by the
minute. His left foot was tapping out a regular tattoo on the tiled floor and he
kept smoothing down his already glossily smooth hair. He reminded Skinner of a
candidate waiting for a job interview that he really, really wanted, and his
heart melted for him.
A car horn sounded and Peter shouted something outside. Alex went very still,
his bottom lip caught between his teeth. Vera came over and gave him a hug, just
as Olga slipped in through the door, clearly on a mission.
"That's our cousin Denis," she said, sotto voce, "Alex, Walter, I forgot to warn
you, if he brings up the subject of UFO's don't offer any opinions. Trust me on
this, you do not want to go there with him."
And she left the room and a stunned silence behind her.
The three of them looked from one to the other before exploding in laughter. It
took a few minutes before they could speak and even then it was through bubbles
of laugher and tears that kept welling up. But it completely dispelled the
tension they felt and set the mood for the rest of the day.
And it was a great day. Walter Skinner had a ball and drank a lot of beer. Vera
was right, with the house full of people from all the branches of the family,
and their friends, and their neighbours, no one questioned his presence. They
were all too busy having a good time. And they were people who knew how to have
a good time.
Alex found himself at the centre of it all. He was kissed and hugged and given
gifts. He had his picture taken with everyone present, and then in every
possible combination of those present, with siblings, with cousins, with uncles,
with aunts, with uncles and aunts, with uncles, aunts and cousins .
Skinner presided over the bar, leaving it only to help himself to a plate of
food from the buffet table, which he ate with Alex. Bizarrely, when they'd
finished they found themselves being drawn inexorably to cousin Denis. Skinner
watched Alex study the man intently, and for a minute thought he was going to
pat him down for an implant. But by then, Alex had discerned that Denis was not
the genuine article, and had signalled to Olga that he needed help. Big sister
swooped in and rescued him, Skinner making the getaway with him.
After the food, Peter made a 'welcome home' speech on behalf of his mother and
sister that was witty as well as being from the heart. Alex replied to it,
awkwardly, and received another hug from everyone present. When the music
started, Skinner leaned on the bar and watched Alex slip out to the kitchen with
Olga and Peter. He knew what was happening. They were giving Alex his gift. Vera
had shown it to him in a quiet moment earlier that day. A beautifully tooled
leather album, containing copies of all the family photographs with him in them,
and a mix of those taken during the years he was gone. At the back was a pouch
with his birth certificate, and beside it a large copy of the family portrait
taken just a few days before, which Olga had extracted from the photographer
through sheer persistence.
When they returned. Alex, looking emotional, was immediately drawn back into the
swirl of the festivities. Skinner chuckled to himself as Alex was fawned over by
every woman at the party of marriageable age, and several far beyond. He took
the attentions in his stride, obviously used to them. Skinner watched him flirt,
both consciously and unconsciously. It took a while but he eventually realised
that the flirting was with him, by proxy. Every time Alex complimented or smiled
at a woman, for a fraction of a second his gaze would sweep over to Skinner, the
sexual message clear. Then the dusky lashes would fall and his attention would
return to his companion.
Though fascinated, Skinner forced himself to turn away from his lover and his
antics. He knew he was blushing and he was sure someone was going to notice. So
he concentrated on his job of keeping everyone supplied with drinks and the
table they were using for the bar wiped and tidy.
By midnight the party was winding down and many had already begun the journey
home. Some hardy souls, and those who were being accommodated by Vera's
neighbours, remained. They'd settled themselves on the big porch, in the velvety
night, talking and sipping.
Inside the house, Skinner washed up the last of the glasses. He pushed his
glasses up to the bridge of his nose, feeling weary.
"Walter, you're exhausted and the rest can wait until morning," Vera told him,
taking the dishtowel from his hand. "Why don't you call it a night?"
"I think I will," he agreed.
Just then Alex stumbled into the room. Skinner wasn't surprised. He knew first
hand the amount of tequila Alex had drunk in the last two hours.
"Here's someone else who needs to go to bed," Vera said.
Alex leered over at Skinner.
"Why don't you go on up, Alex? I'll say goodnight to everyone for you," Vera
promised.
"Okay," Alex agreed with alacrity.
He hugged his mother and whispered into her ear," I'll never forget today, thank
you."
"Love you, sweetheart," she whispered back. "Now, off you go."
Skinner followed him up to their room. When he closed the door he found Alex
staring at him.
"No," Skinner said, firmly, walking past him to pull down the shades.
Alex's arm snaked around him and traced the line of his fly, as a warm mouth
fastened itself onto his neck.
Skinner pulled the second shade down and caught the wandering hand, turning to
face Alex.
"I told you 'no'. Now get undressed."
"Oh yeah," Alex murmured, beginning to unbutton Skinner's shirt.
Skinner impatiently stopped him, needing to put an end to the foolishness. A
gentle push was enough to send Alex sprawling back onto his bed.
"Walter," Alex moaned.
Skinner climbed on the bed and straddled the other man. He leant down and said
softly and precisely, "Not... another... word."
Beginning with the shirt he efficiently stripped Alex to his boxers and covered
him with the sheet. He undressed himself and sat down on Alex's bed, combing
away the tousled hair from his lover's forehead.
"You know I want to as much as you, but we can't, not here." He smiled down at
Alex. "Anyway, you're as exhausted as I am, and you're a hell of a lot drunker."
Alex's eyes had closed at the soothing contact. "Are you... imputing my manhood?"
he asked sleepily.
"Imputing? Believe me, I'd never 'imput' your manhood, Alex," Skinner assured
him, grinning.
"That's okay then," Alex said, drifting off. "I'll just rest my eyes for a while..."
And he was gone.
Skinner sat watching him, his mind content to enjoy the beautiful sight of his
lover in the abandonment of sleep. The big picture and the rest of the world
could wait for another day.
Alex was not so frisky the next day. When he eventually stirred, about noon,
Skinner had a pitcher of water and his own patented hangover cure waiting for
him. Realising he wasn't going to get out of the room before he consumed it, he
gave in and swallowed it under Skinner's gaze.
"Jesus, Walter, that's worse than the hangover," he told the older man.
"In thirty minutes you'll be thanking me," Skinner promised.
Alex looked doubtful, but he had more pressing issues. "Get out of my way,
Walter," he warned, holding the top of his head in position as he made a dash
for the bathroom.
When, showered and shaved, Alex turned up in the kitchen, some forty minutes
later, he did look less green about the gills, though he was still moving in
slow motion.
"Your Mom and Olga are at church," Skinner told him, taking the coffee pot from
his hand and replacing it with a glass of water. "Sit down, what do you want for
breakfast?"
Alex just groaned.
"Dry toast, I think," Skinner said to himself.
One by one the rest of the family found their way to the kitchen, and Vera and
Olga arrived back from the service with the children. They nibbled on the food
left over from the party, and talked about it, and gossiped about their
relatives. Eventually they all spilled out into the backyard where they could
laze and nap and watch the children play.
At about six, Skinner told Vera he would like to take them all out to dinner,
and she happily accepted. She suggested a restaurant to him and he made the
reservation, while she called around the neighbours to find a babysitter. By
seven thirty they were all seated at a table in the garden of 'The Bistro' on
Anna Maria Island. The coloured lights strung around the trees cast a festive
light on the gathering, and from inside came the warm tones of a jazz combo.
It may have been that the chef was a culinary genius, or it may have been simply
that he felt pretty damned good, but Skinner couldn't remember enjoying a meal
so much. He sat at the other end of the table from Alex, and that meant he could
watch him. He had the look of a man at peace.
When the espresso arrived, Peter tapped his glass to gain everyone's attention.
"We waited until after the party to tell you this," he said, looking at Frances.
"I'm pregnant," she told them all. A happy smile lighting up her face.
Peter put his arm around her and kissed her forehead.
There was a little moment of quiet, in which Skinner caught the tiny frown that
crossed Alex's face. It was gone almost before he could register it, and Alex
was on his feet and taking part in the hugging and hand shaking that followed
the announcement.
Vera cried with happiness, finally reaching her emotional limit. Peter held onto
her and rocked her.
"When are you due?" Olga asked.
"July..." Frances was saying but Skinner tuned it out, watching Alex. There was
no further sign of the shadow and the evening continued enjoyably.
Alex was standing looking out into the night when Skinner walked into the
bedroom. He shut the door and went to stand behind his lover.
"What is it, Alex?"
Alex looked at him, questioningly.
"I know you pretty well now, I know something upset you when Peter and Frances
told us the news."
"It's nothing," Alex assured him.
"Have you thought about a family, Alex...? " Skinner probed. "You have plenty of
time..."
Alex turned to him and said, "That's not for me, Walter. I know that."
He put his arm around Skinner's neck. "This is who I am."
Skinner pulled him tight against his chest, a weight lifted from his shoulders.
Alex was speaking again. "It's just that knowing Maria and Max and Alexander,
and now a new baby... I never thought about it before..."
Skinner was confused. He pulled back to look at his lover's face. Alex was still
staring out into the inky blackness and he understood.
"They're coming, aren't they?"
Alex nodded, and Skinner could sense a dark despair in his lover that equalled
the darkness of the night
Skinner hugged him tight again, feeling the fragility of them all, and aware of
the precious nature of every moment.
Monday morning saw an early start for them all. Mark and Frances and the
children were going home. Packed and ready, they said goodbye to Vera and Alex
and Skinner on the front lawn, making tentative plans for future visits. Alex
was accepting and vague about the details, and Vera promised to sort it all out.
Peter and Olga, who both had another day in Florida, drove off with them to the
airport. As she waved them off, Vera suggested to Alex that he take up the offer
of her neighbour, Bill Huber, to take his boat out for a little fishing. Alex
saw Skinner's eyes light up at the suggestion, and he asked his mother to go
ahead and make the arrangements.
When Peter and Olga returned they enthusiastically joined in and the four of
them, in shorts and shirts, set out to spend the day on Tampa Bay. Vera waved
them off, too, looking forward to a quiet day in her own kitchen.
Alex pulled the car in beside the unfamiliar vehicle in front of the house,
noticing the local plates. He and Walter went to the trunk to gather together
the fishing tackle and their catch. They dumped most of the stuff on the porch
but Alex carried in the large bass like a trophy. Finding the kitchen empty, he
called out, "Mama?"
"I'm in the family room, Alexander," his mother responded and the two of them
crossed the hallway, laughing as the slippery fish made a bid for freedom from
Alex's hand.
"Look what we caught..." Alex began as his mother walked towards him across the
room.
"Guess that decides what's on the menu tonight," she looked past her son and
spoke to the older man. "You have a visitor Walter." Stepping aside she turned
back to Fox Mulder and asked, "Will you join us for dinner Mr. Mulder?"
Mulder looked at the two of them standing frozen in place then turned to the
older woman smiling. "Thank you, but I have a flight to catch at six thirty."
"Perhaps another time," Vera said quietly. She put her hand on Alex's arm and
pushed him gently towards the door. Meeting resistance she said, "Alexander, the
rule applies in this house, you catch it, you clean it."
Skinner took a short necessary breath and nodded at Alex. "Go on, I'll speak to
Mulder here."
Alex allowed his mother to steer him out of the room, closing the door behind
them.
Walter Skinner had never felt so wrong footed in his life. He stood silently
looking at the man seated on one of the couches.
"I just had to see it for myself, Skinner." The arrogance in the voice masked a
deep anger.
At that Walter found his voice. "You have no right, Mulder, to come in here..."
"No right?" he interrupted. "I have every right to come down here to see if
someone I consider to be a friend is losing his mind."
Skinner glanced towards the door fleetingly then held up his hands placatingly.
"Okay, Mulder, we need to talk... but not here..."
Mulder stood and looked him in the eye. "No... we wouldn't want to spoil this
game of 'happy families' would we?"
The seething anger was no longer hidden and Skinner, knowing it was unlikely he
could diffuse it, decided to get Mulder out of the house as quickly as possible.
"Come on Mulder, let's go somewhere... get a drink..." He tried to move Mulder
towards the door but the man was fixed firmly in place.
"Why, Walter?"
Skinner scrubbed his hand distractedly across his forehead. "Okay... okay..." He
sat down and watched Mulder sit on the couch opposite him. For a long moment he
looked at the man he respected more than any other, a man for whom he cared.
"There is nothing I can say that will explain or justify to you why I'm here. So
I want you to trust me when I tell you I need to be here... for me..." his gaze
travelled again to the door. "I'm not asking you to understand but, as my
friend, I am going to ask you to back off and let me do this."
"You're right, I don't understand why you're making it possible for that... that
murdering piece of shit to get everything he doesn't deserve, a family... a
life." Mulder abruptly stood up to begin pacing in front of the fireplace as he
continued. "Fuck... they allowed him to walk away from every filthy horror he
perpetrated. What he did to you... to Scully. To how many others? Did they even
bother to count the number of corpses he left in his wake?"
Skinner, feeling weary and lost, said nothing, just watched the pacing man and
listened to the truth.
"All his life he's used people and gotten away with it. That's what he does,
uses people up and throws them away. He's doing it to these people ...he's doing
it to you," Mulder turned to look at him before he finished, "again."
That brought Skinner to his feet. "No, you're wrong," he said, vehemently. "Alex
has changed..."
A harsh, bitter laugh greeted his words and Mulder grabbed Skinner by the upper
arms and looked directly into his eyes.
"Walter... you know men like Alex Krycek don't change. What makes you think...?"
He stilled and they looked at each other, communicating on some instinctive
level.
Mulder stepped back. "You're fucking him," he whispered, his voice terrifyingly
soft.
Skinner dropped his gaze, no longer able to engage Mulder in eye contact.
Mulder walked away from him, arms up, hands clasped behind his head, his
breathing short and panicky.
The sound of a vehicle drawing up outside, of car doors opening and closing and
voices calling moved Skinner to action. "That's Alex's brother and... and
sister."
Mulder turned towards him, his handsome face distorted with anger and...
something else that Skinner didn't take the time to identify.
"Whatever Alex... and I are guilty of, these people have done nothing. Don't hurt
them." He stood behind Mulder and put a hand on his shoulder. Feeling the
contact, Mulder pulled away from his touch and strode to the door, Skinner
following on his heels.
When Mulder wrenched the door open, Skinner got a brief glimpse of Alex leaning
back against the hallway wall, feet crossed at the ankles and head down, before
the intense green eyes flicked up to regard them both. As Mulder took a step
forward, Alex pushed himself away from the wall and the two of them stood eye to
eye. Skinner saw the muscles in Mulder's back bunch through his T-shirt a split
second before he punched Alex's face so hard the man rocked back against the
wall. Winded and looking disorientated, Alex's only move was to swipe at the
blood that spurted from his spilt lip. And, as always, he offered no resistance
when Mulder loomed over him, fist raised again. Skinner moved decisively then to
restrain Mulder but he didn't get the chance to follow through as Peter Svetlov
came barrelling out of the kitchen, his impetus taking both him and Mulder to
the floor.
Skinner reached down and had to use all his strength to separate the two
wrestling men. Getting a grip on Peter's shirt, he hauled him to his feet,
leaving Mulder sprawled on the floor. He watched as the prone man looked from
one Svetlov brother to the other, clearly confused.
Peter had begun to struggle out of Skinner's hold, yelling at the top of his
voice. "...who the fuck are you? ...to come into my home... hurt my brother..."
he twisted round and yelled directly at Skinner. "Let go of me..." But Skinner
held on.
Vera held one hand against the side of Alex's face, already beginning to
discolour, while with the other she used a dish towel to try to staunch the flow
of blood dripping down onto her son's pale lemon shirt. Olga stood close beside
her brother. Her face, like her mother's, was ashen and frightened. Skinner
could see this was beyond their experience. Peter, however, seemed more than
able for the task and Skinner knew he wasn't going to be able to hold him for
much longer.
Glancing at Mulder, who still seemed to be mesmerized by the Alex look-alike, he
ordered at the top of his voice, "Mulder, get out of here. Now!"
He watched the lanky man gather his senses and get to his feet. Unhurried, a
contemptuous expression on his face that only served to send Peter into a
further rage, Mulder straightened his clothes and walked to the front door.
Taking a final look at the scene of chaos he had caused, he left, slamming the
door.
Peter made one last abortive attempt to follow him and managed to drag Skinner
partway down the hall before they all heard the sound of a car engine roaring
into life and the squeal of brakes that quickly faded into the distance.
Skinner released his hold, conscious of protesting muscles. Peter pushed away
from him and went to his brother, turning his head gently to look at the bruised
cheek.
"Olga, will you get some ice?" Vera requested.
Letting go of her brother's hand the younger woman disappeared into the kitchen.
Peter looked at Skinner and announced, "I'm going to call the police."
"No!" Alex shouted.
"Easy, sweetheart," Vera murmured, "we'll do what you want."
"I'm not going to let him get away with this," Peter declared. "Alexander, he
assaulted you in your own home. Who the fuck is he anyway?"
"Peter!" Olga chided, returning with an ice pack that she placed in Alex's hand,
guiding it towards the ugly bruise.
"Oh for Christ's sake, Olga, get real will you," Peter snapped at his sister,
before addressing the others, "Can I please get some answers?"
Skinner could see the desolate expression on Alex's face and wasn't surprised
when he pushed past his hovering family, looking at Skinner for support.
"Please... don't. I can't talk about this now."
"Let's catch our breath, shall we?" Skinner suggested, watching as Alex
distanced himself from them.
"All right," Peter agreed. "I'm going to get a drink. I think we could all do
with one."
Skinner watched the younger brother walk into the kitchen and heard the clink of
glasses being taken from a cupboard.
"Mom, I'm pouring you a brandy. Walter, what do you want?"
Skinner stepped into the doorway to answer but didn't get that far. The sound of
the front door opening caught his attention and he broke into a run as Alex
slipped out of the house. By the time he got down the front steps of the porch,
Alex was in the car with the doors locked and he ignored Skinner's shouts and
pounding fists on the window as he drove away, a blank look on his face.
"Fuck..." Skinner roared in frustration, aware of Peter's presence at his side as
he asked. "Have you got your keys?"
"What...?"
"Have you got your car keys?"
Peter tapped his pockets. "Umm, no ."
"Then go get them and tell your mother we're going after him."
They had been driving for over four hours, checking out the places Alex was
familiar with, but had found no sign of him. As they'd searched Skinner had done
a lot of thinking, his mind replaying the unpleasant scene. He was worried about
what would happen when he found Alex. He did not entertain the possibility of
not finding him, even though he knew the man was a consummate undercover agent
who had turned disappearing into an art form. Unless, Alex did something really
stupid, and Skinner did not think he could have misjudged the man that badly.
Alex would never take that route. He was a survivor.
Regarding his own encounter with Mulder, he tried as best he could to put it to
the back of his mind. It was too excruciating to dwell on. Mulder's few cutting
remarks had made him feel foolish. Viewing what had happened between him and
Alex through Mulder's eyes made it appear cheap. And he was annoyed with himself
for letting his former agent railroad him in the way he had. Sweeping in to pass
judgement on a part of his life that Skinner considered intensely personal. A
part that he had, as yet, to accept and reconcile within himself. Mulder had
truly overstepped the mark and Skinner smarted from the intrusion.
Peter drove into the car park at Holmes Beach, the last one on Sarasota Bay they
had to check, and thumped the steering wheel when it was clearly deserted. There
had been no call from the farm and it was getting dark so reluctantly Skinner
pulled out his cell phone and dialled information for the Sheriff's number,
requesting to be connected directly.
"Hello, this is Deputy Director Walter Skinner of the FBI, may I speak with
Sheriff Currie?"
The title had its usual effect and in short order he was put through to the
police chief.
"Sheriff, you're familiar with the reason I'm down here?"
"Yes, Mr. Skinner, how's it going?"
"Not so good. I need a favour," Skinner requested, coming straight to the point.
The man was all too eager to oblige, partly from the source of the request and
partly because of his respect for the Svetlov family. "What can I do for you,
sir?" he asked.
"Alex has taken off and I really need to find him. I could use your help,
unofficially. I don't want any record of this."
"Glad to help out. Can you give me the details?"
"White male, 6'1", 180lbs, short, dark brown hair, hazel eyes. He wears a
prosthesis in place of his right arm. He's wearing tan pants and a pale yellow
shirt, blood stained. The left side of his face is badly bruised. Driving a Ford
Taurus, registration TAZ 331, Florida plates. He may be carrying identification
as Alex Krycek."
Skinner was aware of Peter's interest as he mentioned the name. Surprisingly,
there hadn't been much discussion about the details of Alex's previous life.
"We'll find him for you, if he's in the county, Mr. Skinner."
"I appreciate this Sheriff."
"I have contacts in Highway Patrol. Do you want me to give them a call?"
"As long as it's off the record."
"No problem. Give me your cell phone number."
Skinner called out the number and ended the call. He looked at the man beside
him and said, "We'll find him, Peter."
"How can you be so sure?"
"In practical terms, he has about forty dollars in his pocket and no credit
cards. He's driving a marked rental and any identification he may be carrying is
unusable. But, more importantly, I don't think he wants to get lost again. At
least I hope not."
"This won't ever be over for him, will it?" The young man asked.
"No, it won't."
"Or for us," Peter remarked.
"Is that going to be a problem?" Skinner had to ask.
"For Mom and Olga, not at all. For me? No... it won't." He looked at Skinner.
"It's only been a few days, but Alexander is my brother. Anyway, how could I
turn away from someone who's so like me?"
He ran a hand over his hair in a very familiar way and Skinner found himself
smiling.
"You all handled that really well. I have to admit, at first, I found it totally
weird." Skinner commented.
"Believe me, it freaked me out that first night, like looking in a mirror. Now,
he's just Alexander and I like having a brother."
"Then let's find him." He handed Peter the cell phone and said, "Want to give
your mom a quick call?"
"Thanks."
They had begun checking bars in the shadier side of town when the call from
Sheriff Currie came through.
"Mr. Skinner, we have Alexander Svetlov in custody. You need to get down to
2071, Ringling Boulevard. Ask for Sergeant Garcia. He'll take care of it for
you. And Mr. Skinner, I hope this is the last time this man is brought to my
attention."
"You have my assurance on that Sheriff and my thanks." He ended the call and
turned to Peter. "They've got him. He's at the Sheriff's Office on... Ringling
Boulevard?"
The tension in Peter's face relaxed as he answered, "I know it."
Skinner watched out of the window and thought about how to approach the request
he needed to make. Just as they turned onto the Boulevard he said quietly, "I
think it's best if I go in there alone."
"Why?"
"Think about it. If your places were reversed, and you had a choice, would you
want Alex to go in there to get you?"
"No... I wouldn't."
"Besides," Skinner remarked, "I think Alex is going to be pretty pissed off with
me for this. No reason you should be involved in the fallout."
"What should I do?"
"Go back to the farm. Tell your mother I'll get him home as soon as I can."
Peter pulled in at the front of the Sheriff's Station and Skinner nodded to him
as he got out. He watched the car drive away before climbing the steps to the
station door.
Sergeant Garcia came to the front desk as soon as Skinner asked for him. The man
wore a rueful expression and the beginnings of a black eye.
"Deputy Director?" he asked.
Skinner nodded.
"Hope you brought a tranquilliser gun, Sir." He remarked as he opened the side
door and waved Skinner through.
"Excuse me .?" Skinner asked, following the police officer along the corridor.
"Mr. Svetlov, has not been... co-operative." He pointed to his discoloured eye.
"I also have two officers in the emergency room and a patrol car missing a right
wing."
He opened a door and the offensive odour of urine assaulted Skinner's nose as he
entered and he looked along the row of cells. He saw Alex immediately, cuffed to
the bars of the last cell in the row. His intense gaze was fixed on the three
other occupants of the cell, who had wisely taken up position as far from him as
possible.
When Garcia walked past him, Skinner asked, "Where did you find him?"
"In the parking lot of the Dairy Queen, on Madison."
Skinner knew the second Alex became aware of his presence. He watched the
expressions on the man's face change from menace to relief, then anger.
The officer took the bunch of keys off his belt as he said, "That's where he
decided to redesign one of our patrol cars using the rental he was driving." He
unlocked the cell door.
Skinner took a business card out of his wallet and handed it to the officer. He
looked Alex in the eye as he said, "Give that to Sheriff Currie and ask him to
send me the bill for the emergency room and the body work on the patrol car."
They stared at each other until Skinner turned to the police officer.
"Key for the handcuffs?" He requested.
The man took them from his pocket and handed them over. Skinner swiftly unlocked
the cuff and returned the keys. "Let's go," he said, his tone harsh.
Alex didn't move.
"Are you planning on staying here?" Skinner asked.
Alex lowered his gaze as he answered, "They took away the prosthesis."
Only then did Skinner notice the shapelessness of the shirtsleeve. He turned to
Garcia, who nodded and said, "Come through to the locker room. I have it there."
They exited the cell and followed the officer to the staff area. He took the
prosthesis out of a cupboard and left them in the room. Skinner watched as Alex
unbuttoned his shirt and began the awkward process of strapping on the false
arm.
"Can I help you?" He asked.
Alex glanced at him before continuing to buckle the complicated straps. "I can
do it myself," he answered, his tone sulky. "Why did you get the police
involved? I wasn't going to run, I just needed some time ."
"A simple phone call would have taken care of it. Your family are anxious and
distressed. I was worried..."
"Well, what else can you expect from a selfish bastard like me?"
"I can understand how what happened today hurt you, Alex. But wallowing in
self-pity is not going to make it any better. Get over it."
Whatever response Alex intended was stillborn when Garcia returned with the
rental car keys, which he handed to Skinner. "It's driveable, Mr. Skinner.
You'll find it in the second row of the back lot."
Skinner thanked him as Alex finished buttoning up his shirt. Once dressed, Alex
walked to the door and pushed his way through, deliberately allowing it to slam
in Skinner's face as he followed close behind. Skinner caught Garcia's
sympathetic look as he reopened the door and left the room.
Alex was standing beside the expensive and mangled rental car, when Skinner
reached the parking lot. The harsh neon lighting glinted off the twisted metal
that had been the front grill and bumper. Skinner counted to ten slowly in his
head before asking, "What the hell were you thinking?"
"Thinking? I wasn't thinking," Alex said, in a low, menacing tone. "It felt
good, so I did it. I enjoyed it."
"You enjoyed it?"
"Aw come on Walter, even you know what I'm talking about... *I* can vouch for
that... punching a handcuffed man in the gut then leaving him on a freezing
balcony all night. It felt fucking good. Admit it."
Skinner knew all too well what he was talking about. Right there and then, the
desire to grab Alex and shake him until his teeth rattled was overwhelming, but
somehow he resisted. He unlocked the passenger door and barked, "Get in."
Alex wore the insolent and knowing smirk of his Consortium days as he climbed
into the car almost undoing Skinner's resolve to remain in control. It was as if
an old, almost forgotten nightmare had suddenly re-surfaced, bringing back its
pain and terror. Skinner determined that he would not be drawn back into the
cycle he'd thought was broken.
The engine made a croaky start when he turned the key. It shuddered a few times
as he put it in drive but moved off smoothly enough. One of the headlight beams
angled off strangely into the darkness as he negotiated his way through the
parking lot, back to the main thoroughfare.
Once on the road Alex began talking softly. Listing and commenting on how he'd
carried out the orders of the Consortium. He sounded like someone reminiscing
about the 'good old days'. Skinner ground his teeth as he listened reluctantly.
The facts were not new to him, but the tone in which they were delivered made
his blood boil.
"I think I enjoyed the palm pilot best of all," Alex taunted in a quiet, breathy
tone. "Total control, zero risk."
Skinner's knuckles turned white as his hands gripped the steering wheel.
"Though killing Mulder's father was satisfying." His voice hitched in a
humourless laugh as he remarked, "It's difficult to pick out just one
highlight."
That did it and Skinner swerved the car across the road into the first
convenient opening. Following the curved roadway, the headlights picked out the
dark and secured form of a tourist information centre, behind which was a large,
lighted parking area and picnic garden. He brought the car to an abrupt halt in
the farthest corner of the deserted lot and killed the engine.
"Out!" He ordered, before exiting the car himself. He strode to the passenger
door and wrenched it open when Alex did not move fast enough for him. The
younger man got out warily, recoiling slightly when Skinner stepped into his
personal space. "I'm not going to hit you, Krycek. I'll never hit you again. You
have my word on it. You know why?" Skinner barely drew breath before answering
his own question. "Because that's what you want. You want me, or Mulder, or
probably just about anyone, to beat the shit out of you. You pathetic fuck-up."
Skinner grabbed his shirtfront and pulled him even closer. "Mulder called you a
murdering piece of shit today. And in all honesty, I'd say that's a pretty fair
assessment. If there was any justice you'd be in some maximum security lock-up
right now, defending your virtue, or not, as the case might be. Or better still,
counting down the days in some God forsaken death row. But maybe that's what you
want. So why don't you settle on any one of those 'career highlights' you just
described so eloquently, write up a confession and sign it. I'll take it to the
Attorney General for you myself. I'm sure the Department of Justice will be
happy to accommodate you."
He released his hold on the shirt and watched the other man fall back heavily
against the car. He felt suddenly weary, aware of a pounding in his temples and
the coursing of adrenaline through his bloodstream.
He stepped away from Alex and leaned back against the rear door of the car. "I
don't fucking need this," he said.
Alex reached out to him, his expression one of regret.
"Don't..." Skinner warned as he walked away, Mulder's words replaying in his
mind. 'He's using you.' He leaned both hands against a tree trunk, and let his
head fall forward.
"Walter..." the voice was very close, "I'm sorry. You were right, Mulder hurt me
today and, like a shit, I'm lashing out at you."
"I just happen to be convenient?" Skinner asked as he straightened up. "Tell me,
does that apply in general?"
When Alex didn't reply Skinner turned round, his anger renewed, a scathing
comment on his lips. But it went unspoken when he looked into Alex's face. The
beauty of it, completely open and vulnerable, took his breath away. Unbidden,
lust and the need to take control swept through him and he reached out, his hand
catching the back of Alex's neck to pull him into a frenzied kiss. In the first
few seconds he felt Alex resist, but then the other man relaxed and allowed him
to plunder his mouth. An involuntary wince and the metallic tang of Alex's blood
told him he'd reopened the torn lip. The knowledge and the taste only fuelled
his desire to possess, and he ran his hands down Alex's back to his ass, pulling
it forward in a bruising grip as he ground his hard cock into the other's groin.
It wasn't enough. He pushed Alex roughly away, drawing in great ragged breaths
as he looked around for a dark and hidden place. An oak tree stood, solid and
large girthed, only a few feet away. Catching hold of Alex's crumpled shirt, he
pulled the unresisting man with him into the shade it cast over the car park's
floodlighting. As the bigger man backed him against the rough bark of the tree,
Alex opened his mouth to Skinner's renewed assault. Skinner's hands efficiently
unbuckled and unzipped Alex's pants and tugged them and his boxers down to mid
thigh. He wrapped one hand round the half hard cock and with the other he took
hold of Alex's balls, applying enough pressure to make the man arch his back in
obvious discomfort.
Abruptly, he released the tender flesh and manhandled Alex, turning him to face
the tree. Alex barely had time to brace himself with his right arm before
Skinner, a brutal grip his neck, pressed his upper body forward, forcing his ass
out. Skinner unzipped himself and pulled out his raging hard on. In the small
part of his mind still in touch with his higher brain functions, the words
'lube' and 'condom' arose and were discarded. He kicked Alex's legs as far apart
as the restricted clothing would allow and placed the head of his cock against
the tight pucker. But at the sudden pressure on his glans, Skinner held still,
afraid the intense physical sensation rolling through him, would trigger orgasm.
A moment of calm in which Alex sucked in a panicky breath and whispered, "Do it...
hurt me."
Four quietly spoken words that washed over Walter Skinner like an ice cold
shower. Arousal fled, in the realisation of what he had been about to do. He
fell forward, crushing Alex against the tree.
"Walter... Walter?" Alex pushed back against the dead weight lying along his
back.
"I'm okay... just give me a minute..."
After a few steadying breaths, Skinner hauled himself upright and straightened
his clothes. He watched Alex push himself out of the awkward position and try to
pull up his pants.
"Let me help you?" Skinner asked.
A quick glance over his shoulder at the older man and Alex nodded his agreement
as he reached forward again to support himself against the tree. Skinner caught
hold of the waistband of the boxers and pulled them up gently, settling the
flaccid cock within them before hitching up the pants and fastening them.
"Thanks," Alex murmured, turning round. His face was white and drawn but he
returned Skinner's gaze without flinching.
"I'm sorry..."
"I'm sorry..." They spoke the same words in the same moment, then ground to a
halt.
"You have nothing to be sorry for..." Alex began afresh.
Skinner glanced towards the car park as he interrupted, "I'd take issue with you
on that, but this is neither the time nor the place." He walked back to the car,
searching for the keys in his pockets before realising he'd left them in the
ignition. Alex joined him in the car and, within seconds, they were climbing the
ramp to the highway. They drove for almost twenty minutes in silence until Alex
spoke.
"Walter, will you listen to what I have to say?"
Skinner was too weary and punch drunk to reply but after a minute he nodded,
knowing Alex's eyes were on him.
"I know I behaved like a total asshole today. I knew it when I drove away from
you. I knew it when you walked into that police cell to get me. I knew it when I
was deliberately provoking you... hurting you. But something in this fucked up
head of mine just kept on going, cause that's what Alex Krycek does."
Skinner heard Alex swallow hard twice before continuing.
"I'm not offering it as a justification, but the way Mulder was with me today,
just like... before. It brought home to me how much of a fairy tale this has all
been. There he was, slapping me down into my rightful place, and I'm following
right along. You know, a year ago, hell, two weeks ago, that would have been how
it ended, but Walter, that's not who I am anymore. I know the bad things aren't
going away, but now there are good things too. I want them. I just hope I
haven't realised it too late."
Silence returned. In it, Skinner tried to process what had happened, what Alex
had said, what he had been about to do. The shame he had felt in front of
Mulder. It was too much to deal with on a dark Florida highway. He needed time
to think. Above all, right now, he needed to get away from Alex.
"I'm taking you back to the farm, Alex. I'm going to be gone for a few days. You
will stay there until I return." He glanced over at the once again blank face.
"We'll talk then. Settle this."
There was no response. "If you'd prefer to go back to Virginia..."
"No..." Alex immediately interrupted, "I want to go home. I'll wait for you
there."
"Fine." It was the last word spoken between them. Skinner pulled the car up
outside the farmhouse, watched Alex go in the kitchen door and drove off.
Skinner shared Alex's desire to go home, so he drove to Bradenton airport. He
avoided the hassle of turning in the damaged car by parking it in the rental
company parking lot, and dropping the keys into the after hours box. An air taxi
was available immediately to Miami International, from where he took the 'red
eye' to DC. A short wait for a taxi, in clothes totally inappropriate for
Washington in January, and by dawn he was letting himself into his own
apartment. He turned the heating on full, stripped to his boxers and crawled
into bed, where he slept for twenty hours straight.
He awoke from a dream of suffocating jungle heat to find himself tangled in the
damp and sweaty sheets. In the dark it took him a minute or two to figure out
where he was and why. A sick feeling rippled through him at the memory of the
previous day, and at the knowledge that he had left Alex Krycek, unsupervised,
in Florida. But it settled quickly and left him listening to the silence in the
apartment. It was unnerving. For the last two weeks he'd woken to the steady
breathing of another human being and the noise of a household coming awake. It
hadn't taken long to get used to it. But though he missed it, he was relieved
that he didn't have to face Alex and his family. He felt too raw for that.
Anyway, it was high time they started dealing with each other without the buffer
of Walter Skinner.
Reaching out to put on the light he extracted himself from the bed and went to
the kitchen. It was a long time since he'd picked at what passed for food on the
plane, and he was ravenous. He rinsed out the coffee maker and filled it. He
took some sweet rolls from the freezer and put them into the oven. While he
waited he stripped and remade the bed and put the sheets in the washer with the
clothes he had worn the day before. He took time over breakfast, and followed it
with a leisurely shower. By the time he had shaved and dressed, he felt renewed
in body, if not in spirit. Returning home had grounded him, preparing him for
the thinking he needed to do, the decisions he needed to make.
It took him two hours to work through his mail, voicemail, and emails. He
deleted Mulder's messages, unanswered. As he finished, dawn was making its
steady progress through the living room towards his open study door and he
switched off the desk lamp and stretched hugely. It was just after six thirty
and he knew if he called the farmhouse straight away he would catch Vera alone
with her first cup of coffee. He dialled the number and listened to it ring
twice before it was picked up.
"Hello?" He was relieved to hear the woman's familiar voice.
"Vera, it's Walter."
"Oh, I'm glad you called. I've been trying for hours to get through to your cell
phone."
"I turned it off at the airport. Is everything okay?" he asked.
"Things are fine, Walter. How are you?" He could hear the concern in her voice.
"I'm okay. I just needed to come back to Washington for a while."
"Alexander says you are coming back... you are, aren't you?"
"Yes, the day after tomorrow probably. How is he?"
There was a slight hesitation before she answered. "We had a family heart to
heart when he came home last night. It was... frank. I was proud of him, the way
he handled it. We got through it. He's a little subdued, but I'm concerned for
you Walter. I know more about this man Mulder now, and I saw how you were with
him that day. I'm sorry you were put in such an awkward position with your
friend."
"If Mulder's my friend Vera, it won't be a problem." He told her. "You'll keep
Alex in line for me?"
"You can count on it. And Olga and Peter are taking two extra days with us. So I
have back-up."
"That's good to know."
"I'll tell him you called."
"Remind him to call Dr. Massey," he requested. "And Vera, I'll call the doctor
myself, to tell him about my trip home."
"I'll make sure he understands," she promised.
"Take care. I'll speak to you again before I leave Washington to let you know
when my plane arrives."
"Thank you Walter. You take care too. I'll see you soon."
He put the phone down, feeling a warmth that surprised him. His curiosity had
been peaked about the 'frank' family discussion, but he didn't linger over it.
He had issues to resolve that required his full attention. Knowing he did some
of his best thinking while exercising, he dressed in shorts and t-shirt and took
the elevator to the extensive basement gym. He hadn't worked out for several
weeks and he was careful to begin with a lengthy series of stretches, but soon
he moved to the machines and began a punishing routine. As always the
repetitious activity freed his mind.
Usually in a session like this his thoughts would follow a well-trodden path,
through Bureau politics, into the machinations of the Consortium, ending with
the murky goings-on in another basement. Since Sharon, that had been the remit
of his life. Since Alex came in from the cold, the conspiracy and the X-Files
were no longer in the frame. It was a sad reflection on his life, that the
destruction of a gang of malevolent megalomaniacs and the disbandment of a freak
show, could so reduce its scope.
Sweat was beginning to soak into his shirt when he deliberately turned his
thoughts in a new direction. A genuine accounting of what was important to him.
How he felt about things and people and what he wanted, really wanted from his
life. It wasn't something he could ever remember doing before. His life had
followed the conventional pattern, a happy childhood, college, profession and
marriage, one leading naturally from the other. He had done everything expected
of him, with two notable exceptions. He had chosen to go to Vietnam, and,
instead of a law practice, he had chosen the FBI and, by dint of it, the X
Files. If Vietnam had taken his innocence, the X-Files had swept away every
certainty upon which a human life was built. For him nothing could ever be the
same again.
Yet incredibly, once the Consortium clean up was over, his life had slipped back
to its predetermined pattern without so much as ripple in its surface. His
detour to Florida, for all its pain, had shown him he didn't have to bow to some
inevitable conclusion. After all, he had ignored all good sense in acting as he
had; and the world had not ended. The recognition of that truth empowered and
invigorated him. And, if truth be told, scared him a little. But one thing he'd
learned, life was too sweet and too fragile to let slip by. What had been
acceptable to him before, no longer was. And if that meant having to turn his
back on all he knew, so he could have what he valued, so be it.
Pounding his muscles into submission seemed as good a way as any to deal with
the cocktail of emotions running through him, so he upped his pace to maximum in
the final section of his routine.
The workout and a second shower brought his appetite back with a vengeance. He
checked in vain through the kitchen cupboards and refrigerator. Putting on a
warm jacket he walked the nine blocks to his favourite delicatessen where he
bought several days supply of every comfort food that appealed to him. With the
aroma of freshly baked bread wafting out of one of the paper carrier bags he
meandered back to the apartment where he made a huge lunch and settled on the
couch. From that position he had a clear view of the balcony under its grey and
lowering sky. It looked desolate. Just as it had the night he'd locked Alex out
on it.
Last summer he had bought three expensive planters and filled them with a lush
assortment of flowering plants. They had been a riot of colour until the late
autumn, but they hadn't made the balcony any more appealing. It wasn't just the
incident with Alex. In fact, he'd never liked it, never used it, except that one
night. As a living space it was too open for him to be comfortable in. But that
was only one of the minor reasons why he was going to sell the apartment. Top of
the list was the fact that if you were no longer a 'suit' you didn't need a
downtown address, in any city.
All his decisions should be so easy.
Finishing his sandwich, he walked to the sliding door of the balcony and opened
it. The chill air embraced him as he stepped over the threshold. He ran his hand
along the smooth metal of the top rail. The scuffmarks cut into the steel by the
handcuffs supporting the weight of Alex Krycek were still clearly visible. He
traced them with a finger, remembering the angry words Alex had spat at him as
he sat huddled on the bare concrete. He remembered the arousal he'd felt. It
stirred his blood again.
But this time it was much more than his body's reaction to a beautiful, young
man, or the power trip of a dominant position. It was deep and layered and
multi-textured and it made him ache for the man a thousand miles away. For his
scent, the softness of his hair, the caress of his voice. He wanted to look into
the world-weary eyes and watch them brighten at a shared joke. He wanted to pull
the strong body against his own and feed on the lush, sweet mouth. He wanted to
know what Alex thought about, and believed in, and wished for. Above all, he
wanted to lose himself in the eager, responsive depths of Alex Krycek, and never
again have to break the surface.
He gripped the rail tightly and breathed in lungfuls of cold winter air to
dampen the desire that raged through him. Gaining control, he smiled to himself
and thought ruefully, 'Jesus Walter, you have it bad. And you walked into it
with your eyes wide open. You have only yourself to blame.'
Still high on the exhilaration of arousal and ignoring the uncomfortable
restriction of his pants, he closed the door between him and the balcony. After
a quick clean up and he took the elevator to the lobby and tracked down the
concierge to retrieve his car keys. The Lexus was safely parked in his parking
space where it had been left two weeks earlier by the airport valet service.
Within minutes he was on I-95, heading towards Virginia, and the White Oaks
Facility.
He had to wait for nearly an hour to see Dr. Massey who was chairing a staff
meeting when Skinner arrived. He wasn't surprised by the anxiety he felt as he
waited. The doctor had become a neutral point of reference for the two of them.
He was one of the few people who had been allowed to get to know Alex Krycek,
and he had shown an insight into Skinner that was sharp enough to make the man
feel uncomfortable. He was also brutally honest, and had the wellbeing of the
people for whom he cared at the top of his list. Yet the doctor also had the
professional detachment that would make it possible for Skinner to deal openly
with issues he could never broach with someone closer.
The busy doctor bustled into the spacious office, checked his watch and made a
quick memo to himself as he sat at the cluttered desk. He then turned his gaze
on his visitor and straight faced asked, "I hope you're not here to tell me
about a clock tower and a sniper rifle?"
Walter Skinner stared at him, dumbfounded. The question tapped into a much more
acute anxiety than the one he'd arrived with.
The doctor immediately picked up on his mistake and said regretfully, "A small
and rather inappropriate industry joke, Mr. Skinner." He smiled then and waved a
hand through the air, indicating the building. "Sometimes a little black humour
is very therapeutic."
Skinner nodded but didn't return the smile.
"I got my usual call from Alex today. I take it you're here to fill in the
interesting details." The doctor prompted.
Slowly, over the next hour Dr. Massey played Walter Skinner like a virtuoso
plays a violin. Word by painful word, he extracted an account of what had
happened between him and Alex in Florida. The doctor showed no sign of surprise
at what he learned. He offered no opinion. But he made it possible for Skinner
to speak of his hopes and fears for a future that included Alex Krycek.
When Skinner's final sentence faded into silence the doctor looked at the
emotionally drained man for several minutes before saying, "If you concerned for
Alex's mental state you don't have to worry, Mr. Skinner. He has one of the most
strongly defined egos I have ever encountered. I think that's how he managed to
survive as a functional person. If he doesn't want this relationship you'll know
soon enough."
He poured a glass of water from a thermos jug and handed it to Skinner, who
drank greedily.
"Thirsty work, Mr. Skinner?" he asked, indulgently.
Skinner only nodded, feeling like he'd used up his quota of speech for the day.
"There's a downside to Alex's personality type, of course."
That caused Skinner to snort in amusement. Massey considered it a good sign, and
he continued, "Well, since these aren't billable hours let's just cut to the
chase. Even if he wants it very much, Alex will be hell to live with at first.
He doesn't have the interpersonal skills of the 'average person', if such a
creature exists. Add to that some seriously skewed and ingrained perceptions and
you have a pretty volatile mix. He has two possible futures, a lengthy
institutional stay, or being supervised by someone whom he respects, who'll
stick with him and set some clearly defined parameters while he finds his way.
His mother, from what he's told me of her, could take on the role, but you'd be
better. In either scenario he'd be looking at long-term therapy, then
counselling. If you do decide to do this, you'd better be sure you know what
you're taking on. No 'love conquers all' bullshit applies here. It's going to be
grim and nasty a lot of the time."
He looked at Skinner's stricken face, before saying, "But not all the time. And
it will get better. Find him gainful, challenging employment and it will go a
lot easier." He checked his watch again. "I'm sorry Mr. Skinner, I'm going to
have to go." He began gathering his belongings as he said, "Look, call my
secretary, make another appointment. You don't have to jump in feet first.
Anyway, it's Alex's decision as much as yours. You need to talk to each other. I
can schedule some joint sessions if you'd like."
"Thank you, doctor," Skinner said, "I'll take you up on both offers, if I may."
"No problem," Massey said, as he accompanied Skinner through the door and down
the hallway. "I'd like to see you both back here this time next week. We'll make
arrangements then."
Massey saw him out through security and they parted at the entrance to the car
park. Skinner drove home a long and circuitous route, his mind replaying the
discussion. His feelings for Alex were unchanged but he had a great deal more to
think about. The risk he would be taking, the responsibility for Alex's future.
The strain their relationship might put on both families. It was a lot to ask of
Alex's newfound family. He knew he would have problems with his own. Hell, if he
was honest, he was having problems with himself. Living with another man, no
matter how discretely was not going to be easy for him. He knew it would not be
a problem for Alex, with his 'super ego', but could he be happy in the kind of
life Skinner wanted? Was it fair to ask it of him?
The questions were still circling in his head when he drove into his parking
space. Just as he was about to get out of the car, his cell phone rang. He
answered it, saying "Skinner," abruptly.
There was silence, and he was beginning to get annoyed when he heard Alex's
voice. Alex's rich, husky voice; making the man seem tantalizing close, instead
of half a continent away.
"I swore I wasn't going to do this Walter... but, I need to know you're okay... I
know you spoke to Mama today... she said you were fine, but..." he stammered to a
halt.
Skinner let the liquid tones wash over him, then answered, "It's okay, Alex. I
am fine. I was going to call you tonight anyway."
He could almost hear the other man relax over the phone line.
"It's good to hear your voice," Alex said.
"Ditto."
"Day after tomorrow, right?"
"Yeah," Skinner assured. "We'll talk then, like I said."
"I can't believe how I acted..." Alex began, but Skinner interrupted him.
"I wasn't exactly a model citizen myself, and walking away like that wasn't the
most mature thing I've ever done. So let's leave it at that, okay?"
Even to his own ears, it sounded brusque. The guilt he still felt coloured the
tone.
He knew Alex had picked up on it when he said, "It's late... I'll see you soon."
Skinner regretted his words. He didn't want it to end on that note.
"Alex," his voice softened, "there'll be worse and there'll be better times
before we're done."
"I hope so, Walter, emphasis on the better," Alex agreed.
"Ditto."
A laugh, a bit on the watery side, but definitely a laugh. Evidence to Skinner
that Alex was riding his own emotional roller coaster. "Good night, Alex."
"Good night, Walter."
He closed the phone and leaned back in the dark anonymity of the car. He laughed
a little himself, from the relief of bridging the gap between them and from the
sure knowledge that, whatever Dr. Massey might think, 'love conquers all'
bullshit was alive and well and thriving in Crystal City, Virginia.
The following morning, Skinner spent at his bank with a financial advisor. He
emerged from the meeting pleasantly surprised by the health of his finances. He
was in a position to leave the Bureau whenever he liked and could take his time
deciding what he wanted to do. It was a comfortable feeling. He went back to the
apartment and booked a seat on the 10.15am flight to Florida the next day. Over
lunch he called a number of realtors and set up appointments with the two who
were available to value the apartment that afternoon. He then called Marie, his
personal assistant, and requested she make a call for him. He stayed on the line
until she came back to him with the information he needed.
Checking his watch, he went to pack a small bag with the few extra things he
would need to take with him on the flight and then dressed formally in a white
shirt and dark suit. Just as he was finishing, the doorbell rang and he went to
admit the first of the realtors. It took several hours to go through everything
with both of the realtors who called, but by the end of it, he had selected one
of them to handle the sale. The woman left the apartment understanding that
Skinner wanted to be involved as little in the process as possible and that he
wanted to sell the property quickly. He had impressed upon her that he would
take the first fair offer. A few minutes later, he put on his grey wool topcoat
and drove out of the building, intent upon his final task in Washington.
He pulled the Lexus into the parking lot of a stylish office complex in the
central business district, some thirty-five minutes later. The building was
completely anonymous and security was tight, but his badge gained him access and
he followed the route he'd taken on several previous occasions to his desired
destination. The glossy secretary recognised him.
"How may I help you, Mr. Skinner?" she asked.
"I'd like to see Mr. Mulder as soon as possible," he replied.
"I don't know if that will be possible, sir. His schedule is full today," she
said, doubtfully, running her manicured hand along the list of entries in the
daybook.
"My assistant already checked with you, he's here until six tonight. I'm sure
you can find five minutes for me. That's all it will take."
She looked at his resolute face and capitulated. "The meeting in the conference
suite will be over in about fifteen minutes, there's a gap in the schedule then.
Would you like to wait in his office?"
"That would be fine. Thank you."
She ushered him through the heavy, mahogany double doors into the large room
with its minimalist furnishings, and brought him a cup of coffee and a magazine.
Through the second set of double doors leading to the conference room, he could
hear a vague murmuring of voices. He put down his cup and went to stand beside
the large picture windows that filled the eastern wall of the office. Outside,
the early evening traffic was beginning to build up. As he watched, one by one,
the vehicle lights glimmered on in the falling darkness, creating a necklace of
sparkling diamonds and rubies that snaked its way through the city streets. A
kinetic sculpture of commuters, all happily oblivious to the purpose of the
building in which he stood, were concerned only with getting home to their
little patch of suburbia. He wasn't sure if he envied them their ignorance or
not.
His attention was drawn back inside by the rising tenor voices in the adjoining
room and the sound of laughter, just before the double doors were opened and
through them stepped Mulder. The man saw Skinner at once and his laughter faded
away as a surprised, uneasy expression covered his face. Skinner turned away
towards the window again as Mulder recovered himself and spoke to the men he was
leading from the large conference room.
"I'll get the finalized report to you the moment it's ready, gentlemen," he
said, "no later than next Friday."
Skinner listened to the chorus of social courtesies and watched the group file
out of the room, reflected in the darkened window. He recognised many of those
who'd attended the meeting, 'movers and shakers' every one. He knew Mulder's
role in the yet unnamed organisation, created in response to the
extraterrestrial threat, was pivotal and he knew about the virtually unlimited
funding available to the project, but he hadn't realised the man's position was
significant enough to have people of this stature coming to him. He couldn't
help but be impressed.
It made sense though, if anyone could pull together some semblance of a defence
against the threat that hung over them all, it was Fox Mulder. All his years of
playing 'David' to the Consortium's 'Goliath' had equipped him well for the
task. He certainly knew the subject better than any other human being alive,
with the possible exception of one, and he had shown a tenacity that was
extraordinary. Skinner gave an involuntary shudder at the thought of being, even
peripherally, involved with such a venture.
He watched Mulder close the doors firmly behind the last person to leave, before
turning back to the room to face the man.
"Walter, sit down please," Mulder requested, as he took his own place behind his
desk.
He did so and they regarded each other warily, before Skinner spoke.
"This won't take long, Mulder," Skinner said, surprised at the calmness of his
own voice considering how he still smarted about what had happened. "I've come
to tell you that I will not tolerate you intruding on my private life the way
you did the day before yesterday. In fact," he held his hand up to forestall
Mulder's intervention, "given the way you behaved towards Alex, I think it's
best we have no further contact."
Mulder looked shocked at the words, but Skinner continued. "I want him in my
life, and if you and I are being honest about it, we know that's going to make
this friendship impossible. I regret that Mulder, I really do, but it's better
to end something before it's ruined."
He watched Mulder's face take on the vulnerable expression that spoke so much of
the man, the one that only a few people had ever been allowed to see. He had
seen it in the corridor of a hospital, the day Scully had gone into remission.
He had seen it again, the day he'd gone to the basement to return Mulder's
letter of resignation. Looking at the man before him, he was as affected by it
as he had been on the two previous occasions, but he steeled his resolve. It
wasn't just the difficulty Mulder would have with Alex and his relationship, it
was also the man's ongoing work against the alien threat. He needed to make sure
Alex had no connection with that whatsoever.
"You'll forgive me, Walter, if I'm not so ready to call it a day on our
friendship. I've never said this before, and that was wrong of me, but you've
pulled me through some tough times. You've put your career and your life on the
line more times than I care to think about, and it's brought you nothing but
grief and danger. I never took that lightly. I guess I assumed you knew that."
"Of course I knew it," Skinner said, "and it wasn't just one way traffic. You
were there when I needed you."
"I tried to be. Not on the same scale though." Mulder smiled, then sat up
straighter, looking more determined when he spoke again. "But, this goes beyond
friendship, Walter. You're my contact in the Bureau. An honest broker in one of
the organisations that's key to this project. You know the kind of bullshit I'm
still having to put up with, just today..."
"Mulder..." Skinner intervened and was ignored.
"...I couldn't get a straight forward answer..."
"Mulder... will you listen to me? " He raised his voice to drown out the other
man, who looked at him perplexed.
"I'm starting over," Skinner said with conviction, "and that mean's I'm getting
out of the FBI."
"What?" Mulder asked, incredulous. "You're not serious. We have work to do,
Walter."
"I'm going to let you run with this one, Fox. You have the vision, and now you
have the resources." He trailed his hand through one of the piles of paper on
the desk, scattering them a little. "I have had a bellyful of it. It's over for
me."
"Of all people, I never thought I'd see you walk away from your duty," Mulder
said coldly.
Skinner met his gaze, refusing to rise to the bait. "I've paid my dues, Mulder.
On more than one field of battle."
Mulder stood and turned towards the window, clearly at a loss for where to take
the argument.
"I intend to recommend Doggett to head up my department. That, and a push from
your end, should do it. He's a good man, one you can trust implicitly. He's
proved that."
"Yeah, Doggett's a part of it now, but Walter, you and Scully and I faced this
together when we had nothing but the truth to protect us. Now we have a chance."
He held out both hands, entreatingly. "We need to stand together."
Skinner resisted the tug of loyalty he felt for Mulder and his cause as he shook
his head. "People and circumstances change, and sometimes you just have to admit
that you're boxing above your weight. Do the best you can, then go home to Dana
and William."
The other man said nothing. Silence settled between them and Skinner decided it
was time to go. He walked to stand beside Mulder and held out his hand.
"I wish you luck, Fox," he offered.
Mulder looked at the extended hand, then into Skinner's eyes. "Better save that
for yourself, Walter. I'd say you're going to need all the luck you can get."
Skinner felt his hurt and frustration breach the dam of his patience.
"What the fuck is it with you, Mulder? You say you don't want to lose my
friendship, but you're not prepared to accept something in my life that is
important to me. Something I want."
"For Christ's sake, we're talking about Krycek here."
"Yes, we are. And I'll be the first to admit it, this may be the biggest fucking
mistake I ever make. But I'm prepared to take the risk, and the consequences. As
a friend, what are you prepared to risk for me? I'm not expecting invitations to
Thanksgiving dinner, just a little tolerance."
"You expect me to accept you... and Alex?"
The expression on Mulder's face was one Skinner at first did not recognise, but
then he had his own moment of insight.
"Jesus... you want him..."
"I do not want Alex Krycek," Mulder answered vehemently.
"Maybe not, but you don't want me to have him," Skinner stated, mentally
slotting a whole lot of pieces neatly into place.
"I don't want you hurt. And he will hurt you, Walter," Mulder said with a
confidence born of experience.
"You... and him... when?"
"We were never together. We never even talked about it. I was too busy
mistrusting him. He was too busy betraying me," Mulder said, sitting down
wearily.
"Was Alex interested?" He hated himself for asking it.
Mulder looked up. "That you will have to ask him. I never could tell what was
real with him."
Skinner sat down again and said, "God, what a mess."
"Maybe you were right, Walter," Mulder admitted. "about ending the friendship
before we... before I destroyed it."
"I need time to think about that." Skinner admitted. "About... you and Alex,
whatever it was, I'd rather know. I don't want any shadows between the two of
us. We're carrying enough baggage as it is."
He got up to leave, but hesitated. "I'm going to tell you something, Mulder. I
don't know if it's the right thing to do or not, but I have to. You have a right
to know." He swallowed to ease the lump in his throat. "It was a combination of
things that moved Alex to bring down the Consortium, but the final trigger was
the order he received to kill Scully's baby. He was going to do it. He tried to
get me to do it. But when it came right down to the wire... he couldn't kill your
son."
Mulder looked up at him, unable to speak, his eyes brimming with tears.
Skinner reined in his own emotions hard as he said, "Jesus, what a fucked up
bunch we are. But you're right, we need each other. I'm flying out tomorrow.
I'll call you in a few days."
Mulder nodded his agreement and covered his face with his hands. Skinner reached
out and firmly grasped Mulder's shoulder. "I'll tell your secretary you don't
want to be disturbed," he said quietly, before leaving the room.
Skinner drove home, still reeling from what he had learned. Knowing only that
the ties that bound them all together were so strong and so complex that they
would never escape them. Reaching the apartment, he called Florida and was
relieved to find the answer machine on. He hastily left the details of his
travel arrangements, saying that he was picking up a rental car and would drive
straight to the farmhouse. Call made, he went to the gym and spent several hours
working out, trying to settle the clamour in his mind. Finally he gave up,
admitting to himself that there could be no peace of mind until he talked to
Alex, face to face. He went back to the apartment and made dinner. Having chased
the food around the plate for over an hour, he eventually threw it in the
garbage along with the rest of the perishables in the refrigerator. He cleaned
up and got ready for bed, ignoring the phone that rang at frequent intervals,
letting the machine pick it up.
Skinner breathed a sigh of relief when the plane touched down at Sarasota
Airport. He steered his way through the disembarking passengers, glad he didn't
have to wait for the tedious process of baggage unloading. Knowing the way he
stepped onto the moving walkway that would carry him to the arrivals lounge, one
floor below. He saw Alex before Alex saw him and he watched the younger man's
anxious, searching expression change to one of joy at the sight of him. The
reaction was unmistakable and genuine and it chased away the chill of his
encounter with Mulder. Alex was happy to have him back, it was written in every
nuance of body language.
He stepped through the barrier into a bear hug, that lasted just a fraction too
long to fall with in the strict bounds of male friendship and pulled back to
look into eyes that were a fraction too bright. It was everything he'd hoped
for.
"Good to have you back, Walter," Alex said.
"Yes," he answered, holding up his small bag. "I'm ready to go."
"Okay."
He followed Alex as and they manoeuvred their way through the waiting crowd.
Drawing level, Skinner looked around and asked, "Isn't your Mom here?"
"She decided to take a few days with Olga, so I drove them to the airport this
morning." He checked his watch. "They should be in San Diego by now. We took
Peter to the airport last night." He held up the car keys. "We won't need a
rental," he said, a little embarrassed.
Skinner cuffed his ear gently and laughed.
"Everything okay with the family?" Skinner questioned, as they stepped outside
the terminal building.
"It's great... the way they've been with me... sometimes I can't take it in..."
"Families can be pretty amazing. When I came home from Vietnam... well, let's say
I wasn't easy to live with. But they stuck with me. All the way." He smiled at
the memories. "Whether I liked it or not."
Alex smiled ruefully. "I think I know what you mean."
"It's a good feeling, right?"
"Real good," Alex agreed and pointed to the next row of cars. "We're parked over
there."
In a few minutes they were out of the car park and driving along the familiar
road to Bradenton. Skinner was filled with hopeful anticipation, but he could
sense only anxiety in Alex, despite the warmth of their first few minutes
together. Wanting to ease it, he casually laid his hand on the other man's
thigh. Alex responded instantly to the intimate and possessive gesture and
Skinner felt the body beneath his touch relax. Neither looked at each other, nor
said anything, but the tension between them eased.
The drive to the farm was silent and comfortable. Pulling up outside the house,
they got out and walked up the steps to the porch, where they stood looking at
each other.
"I was afraid you weren't coming back," Alex said simply.
"I've done a lot of thinking over the last few days. Ran through a lot of
options. That wasn't one of them, Alex." He leaned back against the porch
upright and continued, "I took on a commitment when I signed those papers in Dr.
Massey's office. I intend to fulfil it." He took the edge off the words with the
gentleness of the tone he used. But there were things he wanted to say, without
equivocation or ambiguity.
"That commitment has turned out to be greater than I had anticipated. And that's
okay with me. More than okay..." He watched Alex's expression lighten at the
words.
"But Alex, I need you to know how serious I am about this. For me this isn't a
game, or a whim. I need to know what it means to you. Above all, I need you to
be honest with me... and yourself," Skinner said, acutely aware of the number of
times he had used the word 'need'.
Alex was quiet for a moment, and Skinner had the impression he was rehearsing
what he was going to say in his head.
"I remember the first day I saw you. It was at an induction seminar when I was
assigned to the Hoover. They sent you in to scare the shit out of us."
Skinner scowled at the unexpected response, and Alex said, "You had the exact
same expression on your face, and no, it didn't work then either."
They both smiled at that and Alex continued, "I wanted you then, and I was
arrogant enough to think I could have anything I wanted. But you didn't let it
happen and I was royally pissed. The record shows you paid the price for that
rejection."
When Skinner tried to speak, Alex held up his hand to stop him, saying, "No, I'm
not going to apologize again, but you wanted honesty. I'm giving you that."
He turned away from Skinner and leaned on the porch railing, looking out into
the golden afternoon.
"It was over for us, dead and buried. And by the time I ended up in White Oaks I
felt like I was dead and buried too, but one day, out of the blue, there you
were throwing me a lifeline. Making it possible for me to come here. Have a
second chance at a life."
He turned back to face Skinner, his face open and vulnerable. "Now, I think
you're offering me a second chance at us. If you are, Walter, I want it. And not
just you, I want it all. Is that what you're offering?"
"That's what I'm offering."
"Okay then," Alex said, with the understatement of the emotionally inarticulate,
"I'll give it a go. I just hope I don't let you down..."
Skinner placed two fingers against Alex's lips, effectively silencing him.
"I haven't a proven track record at this myself, so no promises we can't keep,
no unrealistic expectations, no lies, no secrets... no one else... can you do
that?"
"Yeah, I can do that," Alex whispered, as they leant into each other, taking a
first, arousing kiss.
When it ended, Alex took Skinner's hand and pulled him towards the front door
but the older man resisted. Alex looked at him quizzically.
"There's something else we need to talk about," Skinner explained. "When I was
in Washington I went to see Mulder."
The tension was back, with a vengeance, Skinner could feel it in every muscle.
Alex's face blanked, and his eyes became dark, opaque.
"Mulder...?"
Skinner held on when Alex started to pull away. "I went to tell him to stay out
of my... out of our lives," Skinner explained. "Then we talked some."
"What did he say?" Alex asked, his lowered brows creasing a line between them.
Skinner ignored the question, and asked his own. "Alex, back then, was I the
only one you wanted?"
"Yes, " Alex answered instantly, angrily. Trapped sooner than he expected by the
'no lies' promise, he hesitated, "...no... okay, so I was attracted to him. Who
wouldn't be? He's fucking beautiful ...and he has... a quality..."
Skinner silently conceded both of those points to Alex. Fox Mulder was
charismatic and... beautiful. But that had never been an issue for Skinner.
His attention was drawn back to what Alex was saying, "...sometimes I wanted him...
sometimes I wanted to be him. When I looked at him I felt dirty... worthless."
The words illuminated the whole Mulder/Krycek dynamic for Skinner, and the last
few pieces of the puzzle fell into place. All but the final one. He had to ask.
"Why didn't you sleep with him? You had to know he wanted it."
"Jesus, Walter, I may have been arrogant and out of control, but I wasn't
fucking stupid."
Skinner looked at him, showing his lack of comprehension.
"Don't you get it, Walter? Mulder's only interested in things he can't have. By
staying out of his bed I kept him interested." Alex told him, leaving nothing
hidden "He'd have fucked me once and I'd have been thrown away with the rest of
the garbage. I was never that self-destructive."
"And now?"
"Now... I'm not interested... not in that way. Everything I want is here," Alex
said, freeing his hand to lay it against the back of Skinner's strong neck. He
stroked his thumb through the fringe of hair, causing the big man to take a
gasping breath.
"Let's go in Walter, it's time," he said, confidently.
The words started a fire in Skinner's belly, and he let go of Alex, who,
unlocked the front door and guided them both upstairs to the bedroom. He closed
the door behind them and went to draw the shades down over the two windows.
Folding back the comforter to reveal fresh, crisp sheets, he opened the drawer
to take out a bottle of lube and a condom, which he slid under the pillow.
Skinner watched him, enjoying every graceful move of the man completing the
simple tasks, before he took off his glasses and placed them on the dresser.
When he turned back, it was to find Alex close enough to kiss him deeply and far
enough away to undress him efficiently.
Skinner felt the dexterous hand unbutton his shirt, as he buried his own hands
in the thick, clean smelling hair. At his partner's gentle prompting he lowered
his arms to allow the buttons at his cuffs to be opened and the shirt to be
pushed off his shoulders. It fell to the floor unheeded, and Alex pulled away
and caught hold of the bottom of the white t-shirt to strip it off in one swift
movement. Skinner watched mesmerised as Alex leaned forward to lap at his right
nipple. The sight and the sensation were enough to make him moan aloud and need
to support himself against the solid strength of his lover. Alex looked up at
him, his smiling mouth continuing to work its magic, as he unbuckled Skinner's
belt, sliding it sensuously through the loops, before letting it fall to join
the growing pile of clothing.
At that point Skinner decided it was time to move things along, so he toed his
way out of his shoes and reached to undo his fly. Alex was not pleased. He
tut-tutted and held Skinner's right hand by the wrist, tightly enough to stop
the movement. Skinner gave in and slid his hands back into Alex's hair as the
younger man turned his attention to the other, neglected nipple, which he teased
and stimulated unmercifully, until he had Skinner moaning again. That achieved
he dropped to his knees and popped the button on the jeans, easing the zipper
down over the large bulge. Having made some room for movement, he slid the jeans
down the strong legs and encouraged Skinner to step out of them, taking the
socks with them.
Then only the boxer shorts remained between him and his prize, and he ran his
hand up the back of Skinner's left leg to cup the asscheek still hidden by the
navy silk. At the same time he leaned forward to mouth the hard dick, similarly
covered, inhaling the rich, aroused scent as he did so. "Alex!"
Skinner's shout, turned to a whimpered, "...please..." and knowing his own
screaming need for release, Alex relented. He eased the boxers over the erection
and down the unsteady legs. Standing up, he guided his lover towards the bed.
"Lie down, Walter. No, don't move so far back."
The older man complied as best he could, unsure of his suddenly, unsteady legs
and grateful to be lying down. He watched Alex kneel down again, this time
between his outstretched legs and leaned forward to run a feather like tongue
tip up the length of his cock. Instinctively, he pulled his legs up to rest his
feet flat on the bed, using the purchase to arch into the teasing touch.
"Easy lover," Alex whispered, stroking a calming hand along Skinner's left
flank.
"...please... please... suck me..." Skinner babbled.
The words tore at Alex and he took the cock in a firm grip and lowered his mouth
to engulf the head in the same moment. The effect was dramatic, and it took all
of Alex's strength to control the bucking of the powerfully aroused man. But
quickly, Alex set up a satisfying rhythm that brought Skinner to the edge of
completion and held him there in a state of delicious agony.
Only when the busy mouth began to slow in its movements and disengage, was
Skinner able to lift his head from the mattress and gaze down at Alex. The other
man's intention becoming clear to him as his eyes focussed on the open and
giving expression.
Sure of what he wanted, Skinner reached down, caressed the side of his lover's
face, and said, "Finish it, Alex."
A flash of realisation in the beautiful eyes and a look seeking and gaining his
confirmation, was all it took to return him to the glorious haven of Alex's
mouth. Once there, Skinner gave himself over to the sensations, abandoning all
attempt to control the headlong rush to fulfilment.
He poured himself into the willing mouth of his lover, as the flat palm of a
hand massaged his balls, determined to coax every last second of ecstasy from
him. In the distance he could hear someone moaning and murmuring nonsense, but
he was too blissed out to worry about who it might be. And when a solid, warm
body attached itself to his side and his mouth was taken in a demanding kiss,
all thought of it fled from his mind.
The kiss ended and Alex's husky voice asked urgently, "Are you sure you want
this, Walter?"
"...sure..." was all the reply he could manage, but his wits had returned
sufficiently to make him impatient with Alex's still dressed condition. He
pushed the younger man away gently and watched as he began to strip, smiling at
the fumbling, need-driven movements of the single hand. Choosing not to help, he
propped himself up against the pillows and hunted below them for the lube and a
condom. Finding both, he lay back and tucked a spare pillow from the other side
of the bed below his hips, before opening the small bottle to coat the fingers
of his right hand in the oily liquid. Raising his leg to give himself room to
work he reached his left hand down to stroke his still sensitive cock, while his
right hand sought the entrance to his body.
An anguished whimper drew his attention back to Alex, who was standing
motionless, his gaze fixed on Skinner's languidly working hands.
"I want your cock, Alex, I want it now," Skinner said, his voice a deep, sensual
bass.
The words released Alex from his stupor and the younger man, already bare of his
prosthesis, dragged his boxers down and kicked them off. Straightening up to
reveal his hard, fully aroused body, he took one last long look at Skinner
before climbing on the bed, where he blanketed his lover's upper body with his
own. His tongue lovingly tracing the contours of the mouth below his, while his
hand found its way to rest on top of Skinner's hand as it continued to prepare
the older man's body for this final act of commitment.
"...ready... are you ready...?" Alex asked.
In answer, Skinner tore open the condom open and gently rolled the latex down
the purpling cock. Sensitive to Alex's precarious condition, he pulled his legs
up as tight to his chest as he could and encouraged his lover into position.
Immediately he felt the hard press of Alex's cock at his anus and he relaxed
himself to accommodate it. Thankfully his body welcomed the intrusion with only
marginal resistance and little pain. It made the consummation of his and Alex's
love, one of joy and pleasure for them both. That it would be short and frantic
mattered not at all.
Fully sheathed within him, Alex's cock was stroking his prostate with every
thrust, rekindling his need with a speed that took his breath away. He pulled
Alex to his chest, craving the feeling of skin on skin, and he wrapped a leg
tightly around the heaving body to maintain the contact. A few glorious minutes
of total togetherness, as their bodies struggled towards completion. A
completion that came swiftly and sweetly and left them limp and tangled in the
sweaty bed.
Skinner settled them both as comfortably as he could, never losing the closeness
they shared. He knew he'd be sore and tender later, but that didn't matter. In
fact, nothing mattered, except the sleepy words that tumbled out of Alex in his
last conscious moment.
"...love you... Walter..."
The agile body clambering over him woke him and he watched Alex pull on a
bathrobe and disappear out of the room. He could hear a distant and insistent
ringing, the soft footfalls on the stairs and the quiet murmur of Alex's voice
when he answered the phone. He turned over into the place where Alex had slept
and lost himself in the pervasive scent and body heat of his lover. His lover .
his partner... his significant other... the man who'd just told him he loved him.
He rolled the concept around in his head. 'Yeah,' he thought, 'I can live with
that,' as the lure of much needed sleep coaxed him back to oblivion.
He woke again, this time to find the bedside lamp shinning and Alex contentedly
gazing at him, from where he sat at the foot of the bed.
"Shining. That's what it means you know," Skinner said, in a sleep husky voice.
Alex raised a puzzled eyebrow.
"Svetlov... it means 'shining'. 'Course you know that better than I do," he
explained.
Alex smiled in understanding. "Yeah, it does. I never thought about it before."
He stood up and walked over to the dresser. "You slept a long time, you must be
hungry." He picked up a plate and carried it to the bed, setting it down on the
nightstand beside Skinner. "I'll go get the coffee," he offered and disappeared
again.
Skinner sat up, glad that Alex wasn't there to see him wince as he did so and
got out of bed for a quick trip to the bathroom. Once back in the room he
arranged their pillows against the headboard and gently lowered himself back
onto the bed. He lifted the plate and examined the oddly shaped sandwiches. The
filling was an unusual combination and he held one up to his nose and sniffed.
It was interesting, but edible. The fact was, that anything would have been
acceptable to him at that point. It had been quite a while since he had eaten
solid food. He bit into it and chewed thoughtfully. 'Okay,' he thought, 'so
it's not his culinary skills that were the attraction.' He could live with that
too.
The door opened and Alex returned, balancing a tray with two steaming mugs of
coffee. It smelled wonderful and Skinner inhaled the rich aroma before drinking
deeply. Alex resumed his place on the bed and sipped while Skinner ate his
sandwich.
"You're not eating?" Skinner asked.
"I had something about an hour ago."
"Who was it on the phone?"
"It was Mom, wanting to check that everything was okay."
Skinner noted the change of name and the comfortable way Alex used it. "I'll
talk to her tomorrow," he offered.
"She'll like that." Alex nodded to the sandwich. "Finished?"
"Yeah, thanks." He put the plate back on the nightstand and handed Alex the
empty mug so he could return it to the tray.
The one moment of uneasy silence between them was enough for Walter Skinner and
he reached out to catch Alex by the hand and yank him into the bed, where he
pinned him to the mattress.
"So we've talked and we've eaten. Time for the main event," he stated,
initiating a deep and languorous kiss.
When he pulled back, he waited to make sure he had the other man's full
attention, before saying, "I love you, Alex."
Happy with what he saw in Alex's face, he returned to the kiss, working them
both up to a state of arousal, as their bodies rubbed against each other,
through the layers of sheet and Alex's clothes.
"Off now," Skinner growled, indicating the sweats Alex wore.
The younger man found himself stripped naked by ruthlessly teasing hands that
sought out and exploited every sensitive spot on his body. He lay back and let
it happen, his responses encouraging Skinner to take them both in hand and bring
them to a satisfying climax.
Afterwards, they lay in each other's arms, drifting in that state between
wakefulness and sleep where perceptions are heightened and barriers melt away.
Skinner could almost feel the connection between them strengthening, as if it
had some physical dimension, which perhaps it did. He knew, from pop psychology,
about oxytosin, Mother Nature's little trick to ensure the continuation of the
species. The knowledge didn't make the feeling any less wonderful. It only made
him smile to think that, this time, the trick was being played on Mother Nature.
That set the pattern for the next three days, in which they set themselves free
from the past and loved and laughed and talked. Skinner wasn't surprised to find
the kitchen full of food, most of it already prepared, so they only left the
farm once. They drove to an all-night drugstore then went on a moonlit walk
along Holmes Beach.
When Sunday dawned, Skinner looked at the unruly mop of dark hair on the pillow
next to his and decided, regretfully, it was time to return to the real world.
They had an appointment to keep with Dr. Massey on Tuesday, and Vera was due
home the next day. As honeymoons went, theirs had been short, but what mattered
was they had a future together. One with all the time and space they needed.
Happy with that, Skinner rolled over to wrap an arm around the sleeper and
nuzzle at a tempting ear.
"Uuuhh," responded Alex, never the morning person.
But Skinner had learned some failsafe techniques to deal with any early morning
grumpiness and he used them all to turn Alex's annoyed grunts into ones of
passion.
"...oh yes... yes... Walter... that's it... I'm... almost..." the words petered out
into an earthy groan as Alex's body gave up its essence to Skinner's eager
mouth.
Skinner held the sated body close, indulging them both in an extra few minutes
of cuddling before saying, "Okay, Alex, up and at 'em. We've things to do
today."
Alex turned away, pulling the sheet up to his neck as he bargained. "Just a
little while longer, Walter."
Skinner got out of bed and pulled on the sweats he had discarded the night
before. He then took a firm grip of the top sheet. One strong tug and the cotton
was stripped away to reveal the back of Alex Krycek in all his natural glory.
The man's plaintive, "Aww Walter," didn't have any affect on Skinner as he
efficiently managed to strip off the other sheet and pillowcases with Alex still
in the bed. Bundling up the linens in his arms, Skinner grinned at Alex, sitting
disgruntled in the bare bed, and said, "I'll start breakfast. You shower."
He went to his unused bedroom and stripped the sheets from its bed too, and
putting them with the others, he carried them all to the laundry room where he
set them to wash. In the kitchen, he cooked breakfast and had it on the table
when Alex arrived, fresh and damp from his shower, dressed in what Skinner had
come to know were his favourite jeans and shirt. The left sleeve was tucked up,
a fact that confirmed what Skinner had always suspected, that Alex found the
prosthesis uncomfortable and preferred to be without it. It pleased him to know
that Alex no longer needed the pretence of the artificial limb when alone with
him.
Skinner got a quick hug where he stood at the stove before Alex sat down and
attacked the plate of bacon and eggs left waiting for him. When they had both
finished, Skinner pushed his plate away and asked, "Your Mom told you I talked
with Dr. Massey when I was in Washington?"
Alex nodded.
"Actually, I went to Virginia to see him. We had a long discussion about..."
Skinner's hand indicated the two of them.
"I guess he must have been okay with it since we're here," Alex said,
defensively.
"Well, it's really not up to him. But you're right, if he'd thought it was wrong
for you, we wouldn't be here, now."
Alex took that information and processed it awhile, frowning a little. "I get a
say in this, don't I, Walter?" he finally asked.
"Absolutely, it's a strictly fifty-fifty partnership. He sent me back to talk
everything through with you. Put all the cards on the table." Skinner took hold
of Alex's hand as he continued, "The circumstance that threw us together again
was pretty unusual, and I told you at the beginning, Alex, I wouldn't take
advantage of it. From the start I had concerns, and I just needed him to confirm
what I already knew, that you were clear in your mind that you wanted this."
"How do you mean 'clear in my mind'?" Alex asked.
"I thought you might feel... grateful or obligated in some way. You had been in
White Oaks for nearly a year and a half. Mine was the first, if not friendly,
then familiar face you saw. I also brought you good news, and I was the one who
brought you home. All of that could have coloured your perception of me. Maybe
without you realising it." He regretted the words the second they left his
mouth.
The younger man looked at Skinner exasperated. "Are you telling me you thought I
was some sort of emotional cripple, who could confuse kindness and gratitude for
love?"
"No," Skinner said, calmly and deliberately, "I'm telling you the exact
opposite."
"Yeah now, but at first you thought I might be?"
"It was about me as much as you, Alex. I wanted to be sure you chose me for all
the right reasons... not by default..."
"Then let me set the record straight." Alex told him. "What I feel for you has
nothing to do with obligation or gratitude. It has to do with your honesty and
your strength, and yeah... your kindness. You're it for me, Walter, the one I
choose."
His tone softened a little, and a smile quirked the sides of his mouth as he
continued. "And, of course, your incredibly sexy body was a minor
consideration."
Skinner laughed out loud in relief, but when Alex came to stand beside him and
pulled him up into an embrace, he sobered, looking into the serious eyes.
"Can I take it then too, Walter, that I'm not some pity fuck for you?" he asked.
Skinner answered with an intensely intimate kiss that left Alex in no doubt of
his motivation. And when they came up for air, Skinner put it into words.
"That's not something on which I'd chose to build a future. What I feel for you
is based on the honesty and the courage you've shown me since we've been here."
He smiled broadly. "And yes, your incredibly sexy body was a consideration.
Though a minor one."
They touched foreheads and laughed together, but when Alex leaned forward to
renew the kiss, Skinner pulled out of the embrace, saying, "Alex, these three
days have been the best of my life, but it's not surprising we still have issues
between us." He watched the face cloud.
"And Dr. Massey has offered to help us with them. Joint counselling, as well as
continuing to work with you."
Alex's face went blank at the words and Skinner knew he could no longer put off
telling him about the arrangements he'd made with the psychiatrist.
"He wants us both back, day after tomorrow. I've booked the flights."
The younger man took the news stoically, knowing it was inevitable.
"I should have told you," Skinner said.
"No," Alex told him, bringing Skinner back into the embrace, "you gave us this
time together and in a way... I'm glad to be going back... it means I can start
working to make this permanent."
"That's right," Skinner agreed, "and the doctor and I are going to be there with
you every step of the way."
Alex's sudden laugh surprised Skinner.
"What?" he asked.
"Walter Skinner, going into therapy for me. Now I know how serious you are."
"You better believe it. Having my head shrunk is not at the top of my wish list.
Especially since I had a taste of it on Tuesday. But if that's what it takes..."
Alex kissed him with a kind of desperation, backing towards the kitchen door as
he did.
Tempted but determined, Skinner said, "Oh no, we are not going back to bed."
"Ah, come on, Walter..." and a hand snaked down to connect lewdly with Skinner's
crotch, "...time is short."
"We have stuff to do first. When it's done, you can have me on a platter with an
apple in my mouth," Skinner promised.
Alex snorted. "Believe me, it won't be an apple."
"I have three words for you Alex," Skinner said, taking a firm hold of the
wandering hand, "call your mother."
"Jeez, Walter, you sure know how to kill a mood."
"A skill for which I will be very grateful if I'm to survive."
"Hey, you do okay for an old guy..." Alex could feel Skinner's body become
tense.
"Don't go there, Walter. The age difference is not one of the issues," he
assured. "Even though I will tease you about it... and the whole hair thing of
course. I'm only human."
Skinner raised his eyes heavenward and asked solemnly, "Oh Lord, what did I do?"
"It must have been something very, very bad," Alex said.
"Or something very, very good," Skinner countered. "Now go phone your mother."
He watched as Alex walked to the wall phone and placed the receiver between his
ear and shoulder, dialling the number his mother had left on the corkboard
beside it. When Alex started speaking, he filled up the sink with soapy water
and began to quietly clear the dishes into it. He listened with half an ear to
Alex's side of the conversation as it switched to Olga and then back to his
mother.
When Alex said, "Walter, Mom wants to speak to you," he dried his hands and took
the phone.
"Hi, Vera, how's California?"
"Hello, Walter. It's lovely. How are you?"
"We're fine. You're flying in tomorrow, right?"
"Yes..." she hesitated, "...if that's okay with you... and Alex."
Skinner bodily froze, but his mind went into free fall. Somehow she knew about
them. That explained why a mother, who had only just regained her long lost son,
had suddenly flown off to California, cutting short her time with him. Skinner
realised that he had been too distracted to notice the strangeness of the act.
Watching his lover start to put the dishes away, he knew with certainty that
this information would be more than Alex could handle, and he knew he was going
to keep it to himself.
'Christ,' he thought, 'it didn't take long to break the 'no secrets, no lies'
promise.
"Vera, sure that's okay. Give me the flight details."
He scribbled the flight number and arrival time down on the phone message pad.
"Got that. See you tomorrow. Here's Alex."
He handed the phone back to the younger man and went out to the back porch,
feeling uneasy with this new knowledge, but prepared to do whatever was
necessary to get Alex through the next few difficult months.
When the house was ready for Vera's return, they didn't go back to bed; instead
they drove along the coast to a fishing spot Peter had recommended. There they
lazed in the sun and fished, half-heartedly, until the sun began its descent
towards the ocean. The lights of the small bistro near the beach drew them in
for a leisurely dinner, during which they swapped horror stories from their days
at Quantico. Only when the tales began to get as big as some of the fish that
had earlier escaped their lines, did they finish off the bottle of wine and
return to the farm.
There was a poignancy to their lovemaking that night as they spoke of love in
the language of touch. Walter Skinner had never felt so cherished or so free to
follow his instincts. They opened themselves to each other, emotionally as well
as physically until, finally sated, they lay spooned together, both reluctant to
give way to sleep. It took Alex first and Skinner watched him drift away,
pleased beyond words with the measure of trust they had built between them. A
few moments to savour it and Skinner followed his lover into sleep.
Skinner paced the kitchen uneasily, waiting for Alex to return with his mother
from the airport. He'd resisted the urge to make a quick call to her in the
early morning when he'd woken, choosing instead to spend the time holding Alex,
and to trust the woman's good judgement with regard to her son.
Hearing, at last, the car pull up outside he went out onto the porch and watched
them getting out. The smiles they both wore told him all he needed to know and
he walked down the steps to give Vera a hug and a whispered, "Thank you," while
Alex got the suitcase from the trunk.
"When we're ready," she whispered back, bringing him with her into the kitchen.
"It's good to be home," she said sitting down and looking up at him. "Alexander
tells me you're both leaving tomorrow."
"Yes," he answered, sad for them all.
Alex entered the kitchen just then, catching the end of the conversation.
"Mom wanted to come visit, Walter, but I think it's best if we wait to see how
things pan out," he said, looking for Skinner's support.
"Whatever you two think best," he said, neutrally, before offering, "There's
always the phone."
Alex looked a little unsure.
"Dr. Massey will okay it, I know," Skinner said confidently.
"That's good," Vera said, smiling at her relieved son, " and. I have a really
good deal on long distance calls."
Skinner found things to do that kept him out of the way of the other two for
most of the day, but they all had dinner together. Once it was cleaned up he
excused himself and took an early night in his solitary and frighteningly lonely
bed
The next morning was busy, and when they reached the airport, Skinner said his
goodbyes to Vera and took in the baggage to give mother and son a little time
together. Alex came into the departure lounge and sat subdued beside Skinner.
They didn't talk much during the journey and, all too soon, they had retrieved
the Lexus from the long stay car park and were driving towards White Oaks.
Dr. Massey, in his habitually positive manner, met them at the entrance and
said, "Welcome back, Alex, you're looking well."
"I am well, doctor," Alex answered.
"I'm glad to hear that." He gave Skinner an appraising look. "I can see Florida
agrees with both of you. We'll have to see how soon we can get you back there."
"Yes," Alex replied simply.
The doctor put his hand on Alex's shoulder and said, "I'll show you your new
room." He eyed the extra baggage his patient had returned with. "Good thing it's
bigger. You can come too, Walter, it's on the first floor."
The designation meant nothing to Skinner, but he could tell it pleased Alex.
"I can wear my own clothes then, doctor?" Alex asked.
"Yes, and it has an incoming calls line, as you requested, Mr. Skinner. You can
check with main reception for the phone number before you leave."
Skinner didn't need to look at Alex to know he was smiling.
They took the elevator to the first floor and walked to the last room on the
corridor.
"Here it is, Alex," the doctor said. "You're scheduled for a session in about
twenty minutes. I'll send an orderly when it's time."
He turned to Skinner. "I'll see you on Friday, Mr. Skinner."
"Thank you, doctor, for everything."
The man smiled and left, leaving the door slightly ajar.
Alex looked around the room, clearly pleased with it. He ran his hand over the
receiver of the phone before slipping off his jacket and walking straight to
Skinner. They held each other tightly for a long time.
"I'll call you tonight, Alex," Skinner said.
Pulling away, he was met with only slight resistance. Alex managed a smile, but
said nothing.
Skinner stroked his back of his fingers along Alex's cheek and said, softly,
"Love you."
Alex nodded, and Skinner stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him,
the noise of the engaging security lock, resounding in his ears.
Some days are diamonds,
Some days are stone,
Sometimes the hard times,
Won't leave me alone,
Sometime the cold wind,
Blows a chill in my bones,
Some days are diamonds,
Some days are stone.'
he second Walter Skinner closed his eyes, sleep left him and in its place came
insidious and nagging doubt. Alone and in the dark, he found he couldn't to hold
on to the magic of the day he'd spent with Alex. Instead his mind buzzed with
questions about his own and Alex's motivations, and worries about the future.
What had seemed so natural and spontaneous in the light of a golden afternoon,
in the night seemed precipitous and ill judged. Until, that is, about two thirty
when the bedroom door opened and closed silently and a warm body wrapped itself
around his.
