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

The old woman stood on the doorway, suitcase in hand, reminding Skinner of his Sargent. She looked ancient, standing there in a gray woolen coat and a large suitcase. Her hair was steel gray, piled in a bun on top of her head, covered with a scarf.

"Sasha say I come here," she insisted in a thick Russian accent. "You call Sasha." That was a clear order if Skinner ever heard one. It took him a moment to realize who ‘Sasha’ was; the Russian names Alexander and Alexei carried the nickname Sasha. Skinner motioned her inside and dialed Krycek’s cell phone.

"Yeah," came an answer.

"Who is this woman on my doorstep?" Skinner asked.

"Great! She got there alright, I was kinda worried." Krycek sounded proud of himself. Skinner was becoming more afraid by the minute. "That’s Natka, she’s your new nanny."

"Excuse me?" No, he couldn’t have heard that right.

"A nanny. For the boys? You’ve got the spare room now, let her take care of the boys, cook and clean, and she’ll be happy. Don’t worry, my treat. I’m paying her."

"Alex, we don’t need a nanny," Skinner hissed into the phone, not wanting the woman to overhear and be insulted.

"Of course you do. And they need a woman in their life, someone to mother them. Besides, she was my nanny. Look at it this way; she’s a built in babysitter. Later!" He hung up before Skinner could protest again. Krycek had a nanny? Skinner remembered that Sharon had a nanny, but it never occurred to him that by default Krycek would have had a nanny also. Skinner took a breath and turned to face the woman.

"Well. It seems that Alex is in a mood to surprise people." He smiled hesitantly. She was having none of it. He motioned with his hand toward the door. She waited and followed him out of the office, past the curious looks from Becky, Ruvin and Kyle.

"Hey, Sheriff? You want me to call back those construction guys and set up another house?" Becky and Ruvin snickered.

"Yeah, yours," Skinner called back to Kyle.

Natka took a look around the new room. Skinner could see that some redecorating was about to happen. She put her suitcase on the bed. The kittens followed them and stood in the door, their heads cocked and ears tilted forward as they studied their visitor.

"Where are boys?" she asked.

"Um, in school. They’ll be home soon. They..."

"You are my Sharia’s man?" she asked, interrupting him.

"Yes, Ma’am. Walter Skinner."

She stepped closer, looking him over critically.

"My Sharia tell me in letter. She very happy when married. You good man to her. You work hard, not lazy, and good to her in bed," she said, struggling with her English. "When she die, she in pain?"

"No, Ma’am. She died at peace." He hoped she did. Sharon slipped back into her coma after waking briefly to speak to him. He hoped that there was no pain while in a coma. Sharon told this old woman about their sex life??

Natka’s eyes softened with unshed tears.

"She was beautiful child," was all she said.

"Yes, Ma’am."

"Why you have no baby with my Sharia?" She looked suspiciously at him. Skinner found himself answering the personal question.

"I can’t. War injury."

Natka nodded her understanding.

"War bad thing. Too many boys die. You lucky you live. My Sasha say you with man?" Her eyebrow went up, not quite believing Alex’s story. Skinner wondered if this was a way to get her to quit.

"Yes, I am. His name is Fox. Fox Mulder. We are getting married."

She only nodded. Skinner was sure the shock would have at least started an argument.

"You have shaman woman for blessing?"

Skinner knew that this had to be the weirdest conversation he had ever had with anyone, much less a stranger.

"Yes, we have one," he said, thinking of Emilia. How did she know...? Krycek and his twin spies.

"Good. I send for my village shaman woman if you no have one." She began to bustle about, taking things from her suitcase and filling the drawers of the dresser. She saw his confused expression and patted his hand.

"I from Siberia. Lots shaman woman in Siberia. And Ukraine and deep in Russian villages. Priest good, but only shaman woman can give spirit blessing."

Skinner definitely needed to have a nice long talk with Krycek.

The screen door slammed close and Skinner heard the sound of running feet.

"Uncle Walter?" they called out.

"In here," he called back. Pavel and Ivan came to a sudden halt at the sight of the strange woman. Natka clapped her hands and tears filled her eyes at the sight of them.

"Oooohh! My Sasha! Come here." She bent down to gather the suddenly shy boys closer and peppered kisses on their cheeks, clucking over them in Russian. Skinner wondered just how much Krycek told her.

"Pavel is wearing blue and Ivan is in white," Skinner introduced them. "Boys, this is Natka. Alex sent her to be your nanny. A nanny is like a babysitter but she lives with us all the time and helps us."

"You call me Natti, yes?" she encouraged them as she smoothed their hair. The boys nodded, fascinated by this strange person.

Skinner left the room to allow them to get acquainted. He redialed Krycek’s number.

"Yo!" Can’t he ever just say a civilized ‘hello’?

"How much does she know?" Skinner asked quietly.

"Are you kidding? She was our nanny. I’ve known her all my life. I’ve known him all my life. She knows about the boys. Don’t let her looks deceive you, remember she’s Cold War raised Russian; she knows how to keep her mouth shut," he warned.

"Which reminds me; Russia’s borders are still closed, how did you get her out?" Russia and China closed their borders several years earlier when all hell broke loose.

"I didn’t have to, she came over with my parents just after Sharon was born."

"Then why... I don’t mean this to sound as bad as it does, but why does she sound as though she were fresh from the village?"

"What are you talking about? Wait, is she pulling that country bumpkin routine?" Krycek laughed. "Let me guess, she arrived wearing those dull gray ‘citizen’ clothes, right? Forget it, Walter, she is from a small village but she’s one classy broad with a taste for theatrics. She speaks English better than my college professors.

"Just tell her I said to drop the act, I squealed on her. Hey, what’s this about a meeting and a wedding? Was Pavel serious? You and Fox getting married? How you gonna pull that one off? Don’t tell me you’re falling for that commitment crap?"

"Hand-fasting."

"Hand-fasting?! Walter, you wild man you. Whatever. Am I invited?"

"Do I have a choice? Since when do you wait for an invitation? Yes, of course, you’re invited. No date set yet, we’re still in the initial planning stage.

"But, listen, we had a small problem the other day." Skinner told him about Adam’s run-in with Matthew Johnson and his own subsequent meeting with the Reverend.

"Really," Krycek said softly. Skinner winced, Alex was pissed.

"So, between the potential trouble that Johnson could cause and James Alexander, we’re calling a contingency meeting to discuss options. You, Scully and the Gunmen."

"The who??"

"Fox’s freaky friends?" Skinner reminded him.

"Oh, right. Freaky isn’t the word. But I’ve already anticipated problems. If I see that the boys are in danger, and you and Fox can’t deal with it, I will come in and get them out. All three. And hide them until I feel that the coast is clear again. I won’t tell you where; if you don’t know, you can’t tell."

"But..."

"No arguments, Skinner. Those boys are mine and Adam is my nephew, my blood. I will protect them, but you need to keep me updated on these little happenings. And quit blocking the boys from leaving me messages, I depend on that information.

"Call the meeting if you want to, but nothing changes; I will take them."

Skinner squeezed the bridge of his nose; Krycek was in full Krycek mode.

"Alright, I’ll talk to Fox and get back to you."

Skinner had no doubt that Krycek would keep his word; they could wake up in the morning to find the boys gone if Krycek’s ferret nose smelled trouble. Skinner had to admit, if anyone could make the boys disappear, Krycek could. He didn’t know if he should be reassured or worried. It was an unpleasant reminder that he was only a glorified babysitter, no more no less than the new nanny.

"Uncle Walter, can we go out and play?" the boys ran in asking.

"How about lunch first and then a nap?"

They pouted and dropped to the floor in a passive protest, proving to Skinner that a nap was indeed in their immediate future.

"A nap first, I think," he said, looking down at them, unimpressed. Natka bustled down the hall to them.

"I do dis," she announced firmly. Skinner could find no reason not to let her start right away. He agreed and pulled The Manual out of a drawer.

"This is The Manual. We can’t survive without it. My office and cell phone numbers are on the speed dial if you need me for anything. The children know all of our numbers. Make yourself at home. Oh, and Alex told me about you; he said to tell you to drop the act."

Natka was still for a moment before bursting out laughing.

"That boy always was a brat," she said in perfect English. Pavel and Ivan stopped their wet noodle imitations and stared up at her in amazement. She tore off the ugly gray scarf and shook out her shoulder length gray hair, the sever look suddenly disappearing.

"Come on, malchick, you heard your uncle, kruvart -bed." She waved the scarf at the boys to get them moving.

"A chick is a baby chicken," Pavel said, wrinkling his nose.

"Malchick, it means boy." They followed their interesting new playmate to the stairs. The kittens followed too, eagerly looking forward to an afternoon nap in order to recover from their morning nap and to prepare for their late afternoon nap. Ivan ran back, holding out his arms, face raised and mouth puckered. Skinner dutifully bent and touched the soft bow mouth. Natka smiled a little sadly.

"Alex was a lover, too, believe it or not. We nicknamed him ‘mushmouth’. It didn’t last long."

Skinner wondered at her regretful tone.

"What happened?" he asked.

"His father happened."

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

Skinner stood at the side of the road and looked both ways. A car was coming, so he waited. It was a yellow moving van and it stopped in front of him.

"Hi, could you tell us where Easton is?" a young man of Native American decent with a black ponytail poked his head out the window and asked. Skinner pointed down the road.

"Three more blocks, turn right go 1 block, turn left, that’s Easton."

The young man shook his hand, smiling a friendly thanks.

"Welcome to town, I’m Sheriff Skinner. Let me know if you need anything. Home is here, office is there." He pointed out the places.

"Preston Skyhawk. This is my partner, Joe Williams." The young man across the seat lifted a hand in greeting. The other hand was stretched out along the back of the seat, his hand resting lightly on Preston’s shoulder. Skinner wasn’t blind.

A small dog suddenly popped its head up over the window sill. A white Chihuahua with one brown spot over its right eye. It yapped once and gave a shiver characteristic of its breed. Skinner held out a finger. The dog sniffed and gave a nervous lick.

"This is Agamemnon," Preston said, introducing them. "Be careful, he’ll lick you to death."

Skinner raised an eyebrow as he scratched the dog’s head.

"An auspicious name for such a little lover," Skinner commented. The men agreed. The dog climbed up onto Preston’s wide shoulder and sat, a king on his throne.

"Yeah, he marched right into my life and took over, gave no quarter, just insisted that I obey his every command," Preston said, giving Agamemnon a loving caress.

"We’re told this is a quiet, peaceful little town, Sheriff." Preston said. Skinner heard the unvoiced concern. He nodded,

"Very peaceful, except for Saturday nights. The bar tends to get a little rowdy then. Don’t hesitate to speak up if you have a problem, my deputies are good people."

Preston reached into a pocket and pulled out his wallet. He handed Skinner a business card.

"Same for you, speak up if we can help. Later." They drove off to find their new home. Skinner looked at the card; ACLU. He should know by now that looks are deceiving.

Kyle and Ruvin were standing on the porch of the station when he got there.

"Movin’ in or out?" Kyle asked.

"In. The Ramsey place," Skinner responded. He gave the men a brief rundown on their new neighbors. "ACLU," he said, showing them the business card.

"Interestin’."

Skinner waited. "Are you going to elaborate on that?" he asked Kyle who shrugged.

"Nothin’ meant, Sheriff. Jess that we seem to be popular lately."

Skinner waited. "How so?"

"Well, Sir, jess that that’s the fifth movin’ van in the past two months. Movin’ in, that is," Kyle said in a slow drawl.

"Interesting," Skinner echoed. For a small sleepy little town in the middle of nowhere, the movement of five households was the equivalent of a mass migration. Ruvin adjusted his hat.

"Yes, Sir, interestin’ in that they all seem to have somethin’ in common. A ‘course that could just be coincidence."

Skinner waited. "I’m about to smash your heads together," he warned Heckle and Jeckle. Kyle tut-tutted,

"Now, Sheriff, don’t get your knickers in an uproar. If you weren’t so busy playin’ kissy-face with your honey bear, you’d notice these things," Kyle teased him. Skinner had the good graces to flush as Ruvin snickered. "All Ruvin meant was that our new neighbors are all either wearin’ pentacles or are gay couples."

"Can you picture the Rev’s face the next time he does a head count of the town?" Ruvin laughed as he crossed himself over his blasphemy. He slapped Kyle on the shoulder and excused himself, going to his car.

"Speaking of kissy-face, there was a familiar car in town early this morning. Parked right outside of your place, Kyle," Skinner said. Kyle turned red.

"Don’t know what you mean, Sheriff."

Skinner patted him on the shoulder as he moved toward the door. "Mulder and I have both taken bullets for her, we’ve both literally died for her. More than once. Don’t hurt her." He went into the station at the end of his friendly warning. He liked Kyle but Scully’s well-being came first.

"No, Sir, I won’t," he heard the quiet promise.

He went to his office. The phone immediately rang as he sat down.

"Walter, there’s a woman answering our phone."

Skinner shifted the phone to his other ear as he shuffled some paperwork.

"I know. That’s Natka, Alex hired her. She’s the new nanny. She was his and Sharon’s nanny." He glanced over one of Kyle’s perfect reports and signed it.

"They had a nanny? I can’t picture it. She must be ancient, how’s she going to keep up with the boys?"

"Actually, she’s about 65 or so, still very active. She’s an interesting person, I think you’ll like her. Pavel and Ivan already do and the cats approve of her. I was thinking about it; this could be a good thing. No only will the boys have a female influence but it should also halt some of Johnson’s innuendo about the boys living in an all-male household. Sort of a chaperone type figure."

Mulder laughed lightly, warming Skinner’s day.

"Alright, you don’t have to convince me, I think it’s a good idea, we should have thought of it ourselves. Hmmm, now we don’t have to worry about being interrupted for midnight glasses of water and things," Mulder said in a low murmur, sending a zing straight to Skinner’s groin. Skinner quirked the side of his mouth and shook his head.

"Feeling a little neglected?" he teased in a low, silky baritone drawl.

"What are you wearing? No, wait, how did she react about us?"

"She asked if we had a shaman woman to give a spirit blessing."

Mulder barked a laugh,

"Are you shittin’ me? Trust Alex to find a politically correct, open-minded senior citizen. Oh, did you talk to him about the meeting?"

Skinner sat back in his chair and shut his eyes. He gave Mulder a rundown on the conversation he had with Krycek.

"I’ll call him, see if I can get him to lighten up a little," Mulder said. "I don’t think things will get that serious. I think he’s going to need to put together paperwork, though, just in case some do-gooder official comes sniffing around. I don’t think they will accept his story of cloning as legit, especially since the boys haven’t been registered as clones. We don’t want to do that, they’ll be put under government jurisdiction and taken away. He’s going to need to establish paternity papers."

"I didn’t hear that," the Sheriff said. As far as he was concerned, Alex was the boys’ father, period, papers or not. He didn’t see much of a difference; either DNA was used to create a baby in the mother, or it was used in a lab, the same outcome occurred. He understood that biology did not make a father so much as who raised the child did, but obviously Alex had a paternal issue that he needed to deal with. With Smokey as the paternal issue, Skinner really couldn’t blame Alex for having problems with fatherhood.

"Hmmm, maybe he can say that they were in Russia and he snuck them out when the borders began to close...." Mulder mused. "That would explain the lack of paperwork. We’ve been lucky so far that no one has thought to ask us for it. Their mother died in the uprising. They were over there visiting family when it all went down. No one can deny that they are related, a person would have to be blind. Trauma could explain why the boys don’t remember anything beyond a year ago..."

As Mulder contemplated scenarios, Skinner could only be thankful that Mulder chose to be on the side of law. He shuddered to think of what could have happened if Mulder and Krycek had been raised together. Now that was an interesting thought, would he have married Sharon at all if he had met Mulder first? No, wait you idiot, Fox would have been a teenager. You’re nine years older than him, remember? Alex was 12, so Fox would have been 13. Just a year after his sister was taken, ouch. That thought gave Skinner pause and he silently groaned over his advancing age.

"Walter, are you listening to me?"

"What? Yes, the boys don’t remember anything. I was just thinking that I’m glad that you and Alex weren’t raised together, God help the world if you had been."

"Very funny, ha-ha," Mulder responded dryly.

"Will you be home for dinner, honey?" Skinner said nasally, deliberately whining.

"I should be out of here normal time tonight. Nothing going on that I need to be here for. Want me to pick up anything?"

"Not that I know of, but you might want to call back home and ask Natka, I think she’s cooking."

"Do I need to be scared?"

"I have no idea."

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

The road was dusty as the squad car slowly pulled up to the front of Summerland ranch house. Skinner could see a rider a short distance off as he got out. The rider came closer and he could see Emilia sitting on a black Morgan.

"Hello, Sheriff, what brings you out here?" she asked, swinging down from the horse. Skinner held out a hand to the animal. It smelled him and knickered. Skinner gave the soft velvety nose a rub.

"Not much. We have new neighbors moving in. A couple of men and their dog. My deputies tell me that we’ve had quite a few new people moving in lately."

"Oh? Fancy that." She gave the horse a stroke on his hind quarters and a pat.

"What are you up to, Em?" Skinner asked. She opened her eyes wide in innocence, blinking at him.

"Who? Me? Sheriff, I declare, I don’t know what you are talkin’ about," Miss Scarlet protested. "Just because I mention to a few friends how much I like it out here, is no reason to assume that I have anything to do with anything."

"Uh-huh. And the fact that our new neighbors are either wearing pentacles or are gay is just a coincidence."

"Absolutely, Sheriff Sir." She gave him a salute, British style.

"Now, if you’re done interrogating me, I have a few videos for you to borrow. Various hand-fastings. I thought that you and Mulder would like to take a look, just to get an idea."

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

Skinner and Mulder lay back in the bed, watching one of Emilia’s videos. The bride was beautiful with a garland of flowers in her hair and a simple ankle length white cotton dress. The groom was in white muslin, a lei around his neck. She and the groom were both barefoot, reminding Skinner of hippy weddings.

"Looks like a rerun of ‘Hair’," Mulder commented, echoing Skinner’s thoughts. Mulder had been doing that more often lately, making Skinner wonder about another 'episode'. Like they needed another problem in their lives. No, Skinner thought, Mulder always was a good guesser. "I refuse to wear flowers and a dress, Walter. There is only so much I will do in the name of love."

"Well, don’t look at me to wear it. How about the muslin that guy is wearing? I like it, looks comfortable."

Mulder gave the man a second look and then looked Skinner over.

"Yeah, I can see it. It would look really good with your olive tones. You have a great tan, it’s disgusting. And you have nice feet, we should go barefoot, too."

Skinner raised an eyebrow and looked down at his feet, perfectly ordinary to him, if a little too skinny. He wiggled his toes.

"Is there a fetish you haven’t told me about, Fox?"

Mulder snuggled a little closer, his head propped up on Skinner’s shoulder. He put a proprietary hand between Skinner’s thighs, just resting it there as he watched the people dancing wildly in a circle.

"It’s no fetish, you do have nice feet. Most men don’t, they’re all knarled, pale pieces of flesh with corns and ingrown nails, strange tuffs of hair on their toes. Ickh. Yours are nice; they’re slim, tapered, nice high arches, trim ankles, you keep them nice. See mine? Short, fat, stubby toes. I like yours much better." Mulder put his feet next to Skinner’s, banging them together, Skinner’s larger feet dark and tanned next to Mulder’s slightly shorter, paler ones.

Skinner chuckled into Mulder’s hair; only Mulder could make feet into a work of art.

"Alright, white muslin and barefoot. And I happen to like your feet; they are not short, fat and stubby toes."

They watched another minute of the video.

"Please tell me you don’t want to try that circle dancing thing," Skinner pleaded. Mulder snorted.

"No, I don’t think so. Reminds me of playing ‘Ring Around The Rosy’ when I was really small. The true meaning of the song..."

"Fox, focus," Skinner interrupted an impromptu lecture good-naturedly. Sometimes listening to Mulder talk was like listening to one of Pavel’s speeches.

"Hmmm? Oh. I would like live music, though. We’ll have to see if Emilia has any ideas on that end. I don’t know any musicians, do you?"

Skinner shook his head.

"Maybe I can talk the boys into making you sing the dragon song," Mulder teased.

"I do NOT sing," Skinner growled, feeling his face heat up. Mulder chuckled, reached over for the phone and dialed.

"Hey. Quick question. I don’t suppose you know anything about Walter’s singing abilities? Really. Uh-huh. Really? Thanks." He hung up and turned to Skinner with a shit-eating grin. Skinner could see he was in trouble.

"According to Alex, you were a choir boy in church. Says your Mom told him about it when you got engaged. You even had solos until your voice changed."

"Mamma was senile." Skinner refused to look at Mulder.

"Mamma?" Mulder sat up and turned to face him, his eyes sparkling with mirth.

"She was Italian, Fox, all Italian mothers are Mamma. Don’t start on my Mamma," Skinner warned him.

"Oh, come on, Walter, one stanza of Ave Maria," Mulder begged, sounding like the twins.

"No."

The video was forgotten as Skinner was jumped. By the time Mulder was done with him, he was ready to sing the Hallelujah Chorus.

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

"Uncle Walter? Can we get earrings?"

Skinner sputtered into his coffee. He carefully wiped his chin before looking over the top of the paper at the two imps.

"Excuse me?"

Pavel and Ivan looked expectantly at him.

"Alex has a earring," Pavel reasoned. Ivan nodded, agreeing with his brother’s wisdom.

"Alex is an adult, he’s allowed to make strange choices concerning his body. You will need to wait until you’re 18."

They knew that tone brooked no arguments so they sighed and went back to their eggs. The first thing Natti did that morning was to put her foot down on cereal. Oatmeal passed muster, but all the boxes of ‘that crap’ had to go. Her boys would eat healthy breakfasts; all five boys. Six when Alex was home. Mulder started to put up a fuss even before Adam and the twins could, but Natti crossed her arms and stared him down.

"Yes, Ma’am," he had muttered in surrender. For her first morning, they got eggs benny, ham and toast. Whole wheat, much to the disgust of the children. After making sure that they began their breakfast, she went upstairs to gather dirty clothes and start a load of laundry.

"I’m outta here," Mulder announced, rushing through the room as he straightened his tie and jacket. He distributed pecks all around. Natti came out of the washroom and handed him a paperbag.

"What’s this?" he asked.

"Lunch. It’s better for you than that fast food garbage," she informed him.

"Thanks, Mom." He surprised her with a peck on the cheek. She blushed and shooed him out the door.

"Big flirt," she complained with a sparkle.

"He has his moments," Skinner acknowledged.

Just after noon, Skinner and Kyle came out of the diner from lunch when Skinner realized that he had lost Kyle’s attention. He had been giving Kyle pointers at Academy survival. He looked around to see what had captured the younger man’s attention. A black car that looked like the one in the most recent James Bond movie was sitting outside Skinner’s house. His front door opened and a man in a black suit and tie came out.

"Alex?!" Skinner said incredulously. Krycek spotted him and pointed to his office.

"Now that’s almost enough to make even me consider tryin’ a guy," Kyle admitted in awe.

"Don’t tell him that, you may not make it to Quantico with your virtue intact." Skinner knew just how persuasive Krycek could be when he really wanted something.

They went to the station house and knew which way Krycek went by following Becky’s glassy-eyed stare. She was practically drooling. They went into Skinner’s office. Krycek turned at the opening of the door. He was dressed in his usual black, but without the leather. His tailor-made suit draped over him in a cascade of perfection. The three-button suit cut across his broad shoulders and down to his waist to rest evenly at his hips where the pleated slacks fell to the tops of his black patent leather shoes, Italian, that shone like black mirrors. The linen shirt beneath was a pale cream which stood out against the black silk tie with thin gold paisley piping. His hair had a fresh trimmed businessman look, instead of his usual severely short spikes. He was fiddling with a cufflink.

"What is that?" Skinner asked, rubbing delicately at the lapel.

"Escorial wool."

"Es... Alex, this is a $4,000 suit!" Skinner pulled his hand away. He could be just as much a clothes horse as Mulder and Krycek, but he’d never spend four grand on one suit.

"What’s Escorial wool?" Kyle asked. He hesitantly touched the lapel, double-checking to make sure his hand wasn’t going to be bitten off.

"Escorial sheep, Australia and New Zealand, originally Spain," Skinner said. "Their wool is short and curly, it gives the fabric a sort of elasticity like Lycra. It won’t wrinkle and it looks a little luminous. Only 80-100 tons per year are manufactured. That’s less than one percent of the world’s cashmere production."

"Are you trying out for a James Bond movie or are you undercover?" Skinner asked as he walked around Krycek. "You look like you just stepped out of GQ."

"Walter, are you coming on to me? You’d better get Fox’s permission first," Krycek murmured as he frowned at the stubborn 14-carat gold cufflink. He thrust his hand out impatiently to Skinner who fastened it for him. Skinner took a closer look at it.

"That’s mine!" he accused, outraged that Krycek would rummage through his dresser.

"And thank you for having such good taste and sharing."

Skinner reached up to straighten the tie, knowing that it would be useless to attempt to retrieve his best cufflinks.

"Who taught you how to knot a tie?" he complained as he adjusted it.

"You did, so shut up," Krycek responded, batting his hand away and readjusting it himself. Skinner caught Krycek’s left hand and stared at the watch. It had a normal face with hands for local time, and around the face it had three smaller circles with three international times. Around the top edge were the words ‘International Watch Company’ in a flowing script. Skinner remembered seeing it in one of his credit card magazines; it cost just over $3,000. He took another look at the suit and knew where that magazine had disappeared to.

"Alex, that’s an IWC! What the hell did you do, rob a bank?!" Skinner put his hands over his ears. "No, I don’t want to know. Why are you here in this expensive monkey suit?"

"You don’t want to know that, either. Hoskins, would you excuse us?" Krycek’s order was masked in a polite request.

"I left photos for the boys," Krycek said after the door was closed. "The pictures are spliced, my face and my mother’s from when she was about 30. I feel an Oedipus complex coming on. I talked with Natti, she’ll tell the boys stories that I’ve just outlined for her. Just go along with whatever she says and call me if you have any questions. Hopefully, this will hold them until they’re old enough for the truth."

"They’ll be resentful at living a lie," Skinner warned him.

"I know, it can’t be helped. If we tell them now, it’ll only confuse them. God knows what kind of emotional damage that would do. At least by waiting, they’ll have a halfway decent childhood."

Krycek stopped fiddling with his tie, smoothed his sable brown hair, elegant silver at his temples, and walked out of the room. Kyle was standing at the front desk talking with Becky. Skinner avoided his questioning gaze and uneasy frown.

As they walked outside, six tornadoes came tearing around the corner at them. Adam and the twins dove for Skinner and Krycek, hiding behind them as the other boys came to a sudden halt at the sight of two badges and their worst nightmare.

"Go beat ‘um up, Alex!" Pavel yelled, shoving Krycek’s butt to get him motivated.

"And ruin a four thousand dollar tailor-made suit? Give me one good reason."

"They was hurtin’ Holly Anne! Go punch ‘um!" Pavel landed a small fist on tight right glut in demonstration.

"Walter, they’re developing twangs," Krycek complained, ignoring the fly swatting at him.

The other boys began yelling their protests of innocence at Pavel’s accusation and Skinner’s boys yelled back until he put a halt to the noise with a shrill whistle.

"Everybody in the conference room," he ordered, pointing at the station house. All six boys warily trudged around each other and into the building. Adam and the twins headed for the conference room, familiar with the station’s layout. They sat at one side of the conference table while T.J., Billy and Joey sat at the other side, glaring at eachother from across the divide. All six boys were covered in dirt, their faces, arms and legs scraped, shirts torn, shorts filthy. The other boys glanced nervously at Krycek standing at the door, inspecting his nails.

"Alright, boys," Skinner said, sitting at the head of the table. "The prosecution always speaks first. Adam, as senior prosecutor, let’s hear your opening statements." At Adam’s confused look, he clarified. "Tell us what you think these boys did wrong."

"T.J., Billy and Joey were holding Holly Anne and Joey was trying to look up her dress and she was crying and yelling and they wouldn’t let her go."

The defendants began to argue and Skinner rapped on the table for attention.

"Order in the court! No speaking out of turn, you’ll get your chance. Now, Joey, you can be senior defense. Do your clients plead innocent or guilty?"

"Innocent!" the boy stuck his tongue out at the prosecution.

"None of that!" Skinner responded, "Tell us why you’re innocent."

Joey was stumped for a moment.

"Because we are," he finally said. Krycek snorted, Skinner ignored him.

"Next; prosecution, present your case. Since there is no physical evidence such as pictures or videos, we will accept statements from eye-witnesses. Did you actually see this happening or did someone tell you about it?"

"I saw ‘um," Adam stated emphatically. The twins nodded.

"Tell us exactly what you saw."

"We were playing kickball in the dirt lot and Holly Anne was a cheerleader and when she jumped, her dress went up and Billy laughed and pointed and him and T.J. and Joey ran over and T.J. and Billy held her arms while Joey tried to lift her dress up and see what color her underwear was." Adam had been taking speech-making lessons from Pavel.

"Everybody laughed and Holly Anne yelled and cried so I went to help her ‘cause you and Daddy say to help people and not to pick on girls. Pavel and Ivan ran and helped me try to get them to leave her alone and they started hitting us so we hit them back," he stated with warrior’s pride. Skinner rapped again to quiet the defendants.

"Pavel, is that what you saw happen?" Skinner asked him. Pavel nodded and pointed to the boys as Kyle quietly entered the room and gave a small nod at Skinner; he called parents.

"They’re always picking on people," Pavel accused the boys, using surprisingly few words.

"Ok, and Ivan?"

"T.J. hit me, see?!" Ivan stood up and lifted his filthy shirt, revealing a bruise on his left ribcage. Krycek growled and T.J. audibly gulped.

"Very well, does the prosecution rest? Have you told us everything?" Skinner asked Adam who nodded.

"Yes, Sir."

"Defense, what do you have to say to this? Joey? They say they saw you trying to look up Holly Anne’s dress. Did you do that? Yes or no only and no lying."

Joey slumped in his chair, eyes downcast.

"Yes, Sir," he whispered.

"T.J., did you hold Holly Anne’s arms while Joey did this?"

T.J. nodded, unable to speak.

"Billy, did you hold Holly Anne, too?"

"Yes, Sir," he whispered.

"Then I pronounce T.J., Billy and Joey guilty of assault. That’s very serious, boys. As your punishment, you will all apologize to Holly Anne. And I will ask her if you did," he warned them. Skinner leaned forward and gave them his best A.D. glare. The boys looked back at him, their eyes suspiciously bright.

"You will never ever touch a girl like that again. Girls are people, too, just like you. Would you like it if someone held you down and tried to look at your underwear?"

The boys shook their heads, mouths quivering.

"Girls are not play toys, you will show respect for them. And you three," he turned to his own boys who looked surprised that he turned on them.

"No fighting. If you see something wrong again, you get an adult, understand?"

They nodded, "Yes, Sir," they echoed.

"You were right to try and help, but get someone in authority first."

They ‘yes, sir’d’ him again. "You three go home and clean up. Ask Natti to clean your scrapes and remember to say please and thank you to her."

On their way out the door, Krycek stopped them. One at a time, he lifted shirts, arms, legs and turned faces up to the light, counting scrapes and bruises. After each child, he glared over at the guilty party who visibly wilted under his gaze. He put his dark glasses on, straightened his tie and cracked his knuckles, following the boys out the door.

Skinner avoided looking at Kyle, afraid he’d crack up and ruin Krycek’s game. If it was a game.

"Sheriff? You won’t let him hurt us, will you?" Billy whispered hoarsely.

"No, I won’t, just remember what I said." Skinner felt another mark damning him, but maybe there will be one less abuser in the future if he allowed Krycek to scare it out of them now. "You three just stay there, your mothers are on the way to get you."

Mothers. That was even scarier than Krycek. The boys groaned and slumped down further in their chairs.

Skinner stood and went over to Kyle. "Would you mind going over to Holly Anne’s and checking on her? And take some of that counseling literature with you, she could have nightmares or behavioral changes from this. Talk to her mother about it. She may be only 7, but this could still shock her." As a father of a girl himself, Kyle was prepared to wallop the boys himself. He nodded and left the room.

Skinner waited until all three moms were there so that he wouldn’t have to repeat himself. Billy and T.J.’s moms were suitably outraged and marched their boys out by their ears. Joey’s mother, Vernice, simply shrugged and waved a hand.

"Boys will be boys, Sheriff," she said knowingly.

"Really. I have never assaulted a female in my life and the last time I checked, I was male. We were taught respect in my home."

She laughed artfully. Skinner never liked her, she was one of those small town girls who tried very hard to be holier-than-thou and let everyone know that she was too good for their little town, yet she never seemed to have the gumption to leave for the big city. She tried several times to get into Skinner’s life when he first moved into town, and continued to try once in a while even after Mulder moved in, positive that she was irresistible. Being a Sheriff’s wife would bring her that much sought after prestige.

"Yes, but Sheriff, you.. you’re.. well.. Joey has normal instincts."

"I see. It’s normal for boys to assault girls. So, if three men held you down and tried to lift up your dress, that’s alright with you because that’s just how ‘normal’ men are? Have you ever been raped, Mrs. Fielding?" he was pleased to see her blanch. "I’ve seen women in such states that if I were to describe them, you’d have nightmares for the rest of your life. Would you like to hear some? No? Why, those men had ‘normal’ instincts?"

Mrs. Fielding flushed under his dressing down.

"What is little Holly Anne supposed to learn from this experience? That her role in life is to be some man’s play toy and she should just start getting used to it and spreading her legs for any male who wants her? If she were my daughter, I’d be hell-bent to find the boys who treated her so disrespectfully, and if one of my boys ever lifted a finger to harm a girl, I can guarantee you, he wouldn’t be sitting down for a year." He dismissed her with a nod toward the door.

"Oh, and Mrs. Fielding? I’m just as ‘normal’ as the next man."

He waited until she left before releasing his breath. That’s one he might be hearing from the mayor about. He knew he went a little overboard on her, but the boy had to be learning the behavior from somewhere and if she remained apathetic, Joey would have no reason to alter his actions.

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

Mulder listened without interruption as Skinner unloaded his day on Mulder’s shoulders.

"Well, I don’t think I would have lectured her, but that’s me. You did what you had to, just let it go," he said when Skinner was finished.

"I wish I could have seen that court session. That’s an impression that should stick with them for a long time. Also wish I could have seen Alex’s act."

Skinner was too tired to even lift a corner of his mouth.

"I wonder if it was an act. He was pissed. Listen, Fox, something is going to have to be done about Kyle. Alex showed up wearing eight thousand dollars and driving an easy one hundred grand. I made the mistake of mentioning ‘bank robbery’ and ‘undercover’ within Kyle’s hearing. Then Alex drags me off for a private conversation. Kyle’s antennas have been fully extended all day."

Mulder gave him a rap on the shoulders before digging in for a message.

"Sounds like you’ve been walking around with your foot in your mouth all day. Hmmm. Kyle does like to hear X-File stories, doesn’t he? He’s even pointed out a few details that escaped me. I actually solved one because of him. Let me talk to Scully; if she ok’s it, I’ll start on him while he’s still at Quantico. I could use a specialist on my team. Go with the ‘undercover’ explanation for now, it isn’t so far from the truth. Accidentally drop a few hints toward, oh, say NSA. Kyle can search all he wants to, the NSA will never admit to anything one way or the other. I’ll bring him in slowly, on a need-to-know basis."

Skinner shut his eyes and relaxed into the shoulder rug, feeling the day’s stress flow out of his body. After about a year and a half, it still took him by surprise that Mulder was such a physical person once he put his trust in a relationship. Skinner took one of the hands and pulled Mulder around to the front. He put his hands on Mulder’s hips and buried his face in the center of Mulder’s chest, resting his forehead at the sternum. The sparse crinkly hairs tickled his nose and eyelids. No longer lanky, Mulder had become subject to that middle-aged curse, a lower metabolism. Skinner didn’t mind, his own belt needed to be let out a notch.

"I should run more often," Mulder said, running his hands lightly over Skinner’s head and shoulders. Skinner wuffled into the light fur and placed a kiss on the slight rise of Mulder’s stomach.

"You’re fine, Fox, I have no complaints. Run for yourself, not for me." He looked up into the face of his beloved. "What about me? I’ve put on about 20 pounds myself. If you’re not happy about it..."

Mulder shut him up with his mouth.

"My bear," he informed Skinner possessively. "My Baloo-bear." Before Mulder could kiss him again, Skinner held him back.

"Fox. That’s the fifth time in the past two days that you’ve said what I was thinking."

Mulder shut his eyes, searching. He shook his head.

"I’m not ‘hearing’ anything," he finally said, much to the relief of both of them.

"One twinge and you call Alex for medication." Skinner would put it down to Mulder-weirdness unless it became worse.

Mulder promised him. The last thing they wanted was for him to be back in the nuthouse.

An hour later, sprawled out on the bed facing each other, Mulder was munching his ever-present seeds which Skinner decided was an indication of an oral fixation. Not that he was complaining about an oral fixation. He took the cap off his pen and opened the notebook.

"So. First. What’s the normal time frame? A year and a day?" he asked.

"Yes, but we’ve already been together longer than that. How about five years?"

"Ok. ‘Fox Mulder and Walter Skinner will be bound together’ ...sounds kinky, Fox,... ‘bound together in union for five years and a day, at which time this contract may be renewed or dissolved upon the agreement of both parties’. What next?"

"Ummm, what about what we bring to the union?"

"What, you mean like what we each own? That’s pedantic, do we really need to list property? Let’s skip that part; our bank accounts are separate, you know what you own, I know what I own. We can fight over the rest. How about what we promise each other?"

snap, munch.. "To love, honor and obey?"

"Not! Love and honor, yes, but can you really see either of us obeying? Don’t get shells in the bed, Fox. How about, ‘I bring to you my heart and my soul, I will honor you and our union with my body and mind, and I will speak of you and to you with pride and loyalty’?"

"....Walter!...I...!" sniff, blow...

"I like that, that was good...’bring to you my...’. There. Next. Provisions for the kids?"

sniff, crack, munch... "We raise them together, of course. ‘We raise them in the light of...’ God, that’s too white-light."

"Alright, Butch, how about ‘we will raise the children together, as parent and child, and give to them the love and nurturing that they will need to grow into healthy, loving adults’."

"That’s good. So, that leaves what? Dissolution?"

"Yeah, I think. Hmmm. ‘In the event of dissolution, we take with us that property which we brought into the union. Property bought together will be divided or sold and the profits divided evenly’. I think my divorce lawyer would have a cow over this contract. Children?"

"Adam comes with me, of course, but what about Pavel and Ivan?"

"You’re their actual blood relation."

"Yes, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that I’m the best choice. They go back to Alex and he can make the decision."

"Alright. ‘In the event of dissolution, Adam Mulder will remain with his father, Pavel and Ivan Krycek will return to their father’. If Alex wants to hand them right back to one of us, he can."

"I’d rather they went to you, you’ve been their primary parent and you can deal with them better than I can. Although, in five years they’ll be ten and probably ruling the world by then."

The men looked over their simple contract, made a few minor changes, and approved it.

"After the ceremony, we’ll take it over to Harry and get it notarized," Skinner said. He’d type it up on his computer, put it into legalize.

"Let’s do it this weekend," Mulder said impulsively.

"What, this weekend??"

"Yeah, sure! What are we waiting for? We call a few people, order some pizzas... I call Scully, Margaret and the guys for me. Who do you want to call?"

Skinner was at a loss for words.

"I... well..

"Walter, don’t you have any family left? You never talk about them."

Skinner was silent as he swallowed the pain of memories.

"No one, Fox. No one that I would invite," he finally said when he could speak.

"No one?" Mulder asked gently. "No distant cousins, aunts, uncles you’d like to reconnect with?"

Skinner shook his head. Mulder took his hand, silent as he reviewed his words.

"I don’t remember any of my relatives. I think that maybe my parents kept them from us, probably to protect them from being snared in the web. Maybe that’s what you did?"

Skinner was silent as faces came to him, unbidden. Black haired, olive skinned cousins, boisterous, loud family dinners on Sunday afternoons after church, christenings, baptisms, first communion parties, confirmation parties, birthdays, graduations, weddings and anniversaries. His father...

"Fox, I... you don’t understand. I loved being with my cousins, but my father... the DeLucas were the typical, loud New York Italians. The Skinners were not. My father moved us to the North West. I learned that real men don’t hug and kiss each other, or discuss their feelings. I have nothing in common with my cousins anymore."

"That’s crap, Walter," Mulder informed him bluntly. "You are not your father. When you were a child, he was responsible for your behavior. As an adult, you are responsible. If you don’t like something, change it, but don’t blame it on your past. Now I can understand wanting to keep your family away in order to protect them, but you don’t need to do that anymore. It’s safe, Walter. And you’re more like your Italian side than you think. You’re a very affectionate person, once you relax enough to give in to it, you’re very loving and you hug and kiss very well, thank you. You’ve just become so used to bottling it up, that you’ve forgotten how to use it.

"Let me contact them for you, please. I can explain that you were protecting them because of your job, that’s close enough. And if they’ve been paying attention to the news these past few years, they’ll understand. Hell, Walter, I’ve known enough Italians in my life, once they find out that you are The Walter Skinner, you’ll be a hero to the family. A true pison."

"Is that family with a lower case ‘f’ or Family with a capitol ‘F’?"

Mulder shook him in reprimand.

"No bad Italian jokes. So will you let me? I’ll be very diplomatic, I promise."

Skinner felt his heart racing, scared that Mulder would come back either empty handed or with a contract out on him. Oops, Fox said no bad jokes.

"Alright. But tell them about us up front. I don’t want to meet them only to have them walk away when they find out. They’re Italian, macho and Catholic. And they’d be finding out that I’m about to marry a Jewish man in a Pagan ceremony with our three sons and the world’s number one bad guy in attendance as best man."

End pt 9