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Recipe for Trouble by Lorelei alter leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping his coffee reflectively, contemplating the view through the big kitchen window. The early morning sun shone down on the rolling hills of the Shenandoah Valley. The surrounding Blue Ridge Mountains were resplendent in all their late October glory, proudly displaying brilliant hues of red and gold as bright and crisp as the cool Autumn air itself. Fox and Alex came padding into the large, airy kitchen, wrapped in their bathrobes, their hair still damp from their shower. Their bright eyes and flushed cheeks suggested that they had gotten more than clean during their morning ablutions. Walter put his coffee cup down, unable to resist a grin at the sight of his two freshly scrubbed young lovers. For the millionth time, he congratulated himself on his foresight. During the renovation of the old farmhouse, Walter had insisted that the contractor install the largest shower unit commercially available. Remembering the look on the man's face never failed to raise a smile. Neither did the many happy hours he and his lovers had spent in the shower unit since. "Come here, you two," Walter mock-growled, gathering them into his arms. They smelled heavenly, a combination of almond soap and clean bare skin. "Something tells me you just used every drop of hot water in the valley." "We got a little...distracted," Alex purred, tilting his face up for a kiss, his green bathrobe making his emerald eyes even more vivid under his shining cap of damp black hair. "Yeah," Fox breathed, nuzzling Walter's neck, his chestnut hair cool against Walter's skin. His blue bathrobe fell open a little, exposing his smooth chest. "But it wasn't as much fun without you." Walter laughed, meting out a light swat each to two firm, cotton-swathed bottoms. "I've been up for hours. We've got a busy day ahead. Besides, someone has to get breakfast ready." Alex shrugged and opened the refrigerator. "I took my turn yesterday," he protested, casually fishing out an ice-cold can of Coke from behind the carafe of fresh-squeezed orange juice. "Krispy Kreme donuts are not breakfast," Walter said, crossing the room and removing the red and white can from Alex's hand. He returned it to its place in the refrigerator, took out the carafe of orange juice and handed it to Alex along with two empty glasses. Wordlessly, he pointed to the kitchen table. Alex risked a pout but followed along behind Fox in the direction of Walter's pointing finger. Once Alex and Fox were comfortably seated at the table, sipping their orange juice, Walter reached for the cutting board, smiling over his shoulder as he did. "Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes." He peeled a banana and began slicing it, adding the slices to the glass bowl which already contained berries and sliced melon. Suddenly, he was interrupted by a tapping at the back door. Walter walked over to it and looked out through the glass. Mr. Lazenbee's eyes, magnified behind his thick glasses, peered back at him through the window. "Walt!" the old man shouted. "Y'all home?" Walter couldn't see the looks on his brats' faces but, just like any experienced Top, he didn't need to. "Behave," he warned, his alpha male rumble making Alex's and Fox's spines straighten immediately. They exchanged a look of mutual dread but busied themselves with their juice. Walter opened the door and Mr. Lazenbee walked in, leaning on his walking stick. He took off his hat, handing it to Walter. "Mornin', boys," the old man said gruffly. "Good morning, Mr. Lazenbee," the three men responded in unison, sounding like schoolboys reciting. Alex and Fox had to hide their grins behind their juice glasses. It wasn't often that they got to hear anyone call Walter "boy". "Thought you all were helping me out today," Mr. Lazenbee grumbled. "Well...uh, yes, we are," Walter said, glancing at his watch. "But it's only eight o'clock. We haven't had breakfast yet." Mr. Lazenbee leaned on his walking stick, giving the three men a disapproving look. "Great day in the mornin', boy! Why, when I was your age I'da had the cows milked, the hogs slopped and three acres of hay baled." He chuckled, chewing on the stem of his unlit pipe. "You city folk. Ya'll sure are a caution, lollygaggin' in bed 'til all hours." Walter clasped his hands behind his back, giving Alex and Fox a warning look as they chewed their lips to keep from smiling at his consternation. He sighed. Walter had been raised to respect his elders and Mr. Lazenbee always managed to make him feel about ten years old. "Well, sir, we do take it a little easier on Saturday," Walter agreed, pulling out a chair from the kitchen table. "Won't you please sit and have breakfast with us? Then Fox and Alex will come next door and get started on those chores you need help with." Fox and Alex were no longer fighting to hide smiles. They radiated misery at Walter. He raised an cautioning eyebrow at them and they settled, shoulders slumped in resignation. Mr. Lazenbee took the proffered chair and sat down heavily, leaning his walking stick against the table. "Well now," Mr. Lazenbee allowed, "I reckon I don't mind if I do. Been a while since that piece of pie I had this mornin'." Alex choked on his juice. Fox pounded him helpfully on the back. "Pie?" Alex finally managed to gasp. "Pie for breakfast? Wow, Walter, wouldn't that be...uh..." He trailed off under Walter's withering gaze. "Naw, that won't breakfast, boy," Mr. Lazenbee said, "just a little something to get my heart started. Mrs. Rowe down to the Ladies' Auxiliary brings me a pie just about every week. She's a fair cook but nothin' like my Viola was, God rest her. She brung me pecan this time and I thanked her most to death but," the old man leaned forward conspiratorially, "just between you and me and the lamppost, I'm partial to chocolate." Alex nodded. "Me too," he said enthusiastically. "But Walter thinks—" "Walter thinks Mr. Lazenbee might like a cup of coffee while he's waiting for his breakfast," Walter interjected cheerfully, placing a steaming mug in front of their guest. "Thank you kindly," Mr. Lazenbee said. "I reckon I wouldn't mind a little somethin' to chase the chill outta these old bones." He picked up the mug and took a sip. Scowling, he set it back down on the table and tapped the rim with a bony finger. "Walt!" he snapped, his old man's voice cracking, "I said my bones was chilled!" Walter paused and closed his eyes. After a moment, his head bowed in defeat, he went to the cabinet and took down the bottle of Jack Daniels. Ignoring the amazed look on his brats' faces, he unscrewed the cap and poured a generous dollop of whiskey into Mr. Lazenbee's mug. Mr. Lazenbee nodded, raised the mug again and took a long, approving sip. "Now that's more like it," he said, then glanced up at Walter. "Where's that breakfast you was talkin' about, boy? A body could waste away to nothin' around here." "Yes, sir, Mr. Lazenbee," Walter said wearily, turning to the stove. "Coming right up." Turning in his chair, Mr. Lazenbee watched for a few moments as Walter busied himself slicing bananas. Finally, unable to stand the curiosity any longer, the old man hoisted himself up out of the chair and creaked over to Walter, staring over his shoulder in disbelief. "What in tarnation, boy?" he queried, his bushy eyebrows knitted together in annoyance. "Thought you said you was fixin' breakfast." Walter stopped slicing and looked at Mr. Lazenbee in surprise. "Well...well, yes, sir," he said, confused. He gestured to the food laid out on the counter before him, pointing to each item as he spoke. "Fresh fruit, whole wheat toast, turkey bacon and scrambled egg substitute." Mr. Lazenbee's eyes bugged. "Well, I'll be," he said in amazement, his hands on his hips. "That's what you all call breakfast?" Walter looked at Mr. Lazenbee, then back at the food. "I—" "Shoot fire, boy!" Mr. Lazenbee cackled. "No wonder y'all cain't get outta bed in the mornin'! That ain't no kind of meal, lessen you're one of them soopermodels. Y'all need a man's meal, somethin' that sticks to your ribs!" He thumped his abdomen for effect. "I...uh..." Walter stammered, at a loss for words. Mr. Lazenbee looked at Walter and shook his finger sternly. "Now, you cain't expect these here boys," he gestured to Alex and Fox, "to work hard all day without a decent meal in their bellies." Alex and Fox sat blinking at Walter, their hands in their laps, the very picture of innocence. His cheeks flushing red, Walter tried to take back control of his kitchen. "Now, uh, Mr. Lazenbee," he began, holding up his hands placatingly, "we eat this food all the time and there's nothing wrong with it. It's very healthful. Besides, Fox and Alex like turkey bacon and fresh fruit, don't you, boys?" Alex and Fox were suddenly very interested in the tabletop. Walter coughed. "Oh yes, we...ah...we love it." Fox managed unconvincingly. "Yep, can't get enough," Alex said, his eyes locked wistfully on the box of donuts on the counter next to the refrigerator. "Hogwash!" Mr. Lazenbee said. "Ya'll need a good old-fashioned Southern breakfast and I'm gonna see to it that you get it." "Mr. Lazenbee, really," Walter attempted, gesturing toward Mr. Lazenbee's abandoned chair. "If you'll just have a seat, I'm sure I can find something you'll..." He trailed off as Mr. Lazenbee reached the laundry room, reached inside and grabbed his hat off of the rack. He settled it firmly on his head and opened the back door. "You just put that mess away, Walt," the old man admonished, walking stick in hand. "I'll be back in a jiffy, show you city boys what good eatin' is all about." With that, he was gone, his walking stick clacking along the redwood deck as he went. Walter leaned against the counter, his head in his hands. After a moment, he looked up at Alex and Fox, who were grinning shamelessly at his distress. "Thanks for backing me up, you two," Walter said, giving them a reproachful look. "Sorry, Walter," Fox said with a shrug. "Fighting the future is one thing. Fighting Mr. Lazenbee is something else entirely." "He's right," Alex said. "I'm sorry, too, Walter, but," he added with a mischievious grin, "I guess it's resist or be served." "Very funny," Walter said, giving Alex a stern look as he covered the fruit bowl with cling film and wrapped up the turkey bacon. "We'll have this tomorrow. In the meantime, we just have to be mindful of Mr. Lazenbee's age and be polite. Whatever he cooks, just eat a little and remember to thank him." "Yes, Walter," Alex and Fox said obediently. A few minutes later, the back door opened and Mr. Lazenbee reappeared, a large paper bag in one hand. "Here, let me help you with that," Walter said, hurrying to take the bag from Mr. Lazenbee. He put the bag on the counter and started to open it. "Get on away from there, boy!" Mr. Lazenbee grouched, swatting Walter across the backside with his walking stick. Walter jumped and clapped both hands on his rear, his mouth dropping open in an almost comical expression of surprise. Alex and Fox gasped and then burst out laughing. A thunderous look from Walter silenced them, except for the occasional titter. "Are you sure I can't help you, Mr. Lazenbee?" Walter asked even as he backed away. "Oh for Pete's sake," Mr. Lazenbee said impatiently, rummaging through the cabinets and assembling his arsenal of cookware. "I was cookin' for the troops in Korea before you was a gleam in your daddy's eye. Grab some wood, boy, and let me show you how it's done." Walter knew when he had been Topped. He sat down at the table beside Fox and poured himself a glass of juice. The look he gave Alex and Fox dared them to say a word. They dutifully stared straight ahead, nibbling the insides of their cheeks to keep from laughing, their eyes dancing with delight. Walter settled his chin in his hand and watched as Mr. Lazenbee put Walter's biggest cast-iron skillet on the stove and began unpacking the ingredients he had brought from home. Alex and Fox watched too, whispering to one another, awed at the sheer amount of food the old man had been able to transport in that one wrinkled paper bag. There was a pound of butter, a dozen farm-fresh eggs, a sack of flour, another of grits, a bag of potatoes and onions, what looked like a pound each of bacon and sausage, joined by an assortment of boxes, jars and bottles. Walter found his mouth beginning to water as Mr. Lazenbee unpacked four beautiful, thick, perfectly marbled steaks. Walter had to admit to himself that it did rankle him a little, being shooed away from his own stove like a naughty child. But he found himself watching with growing fascination as Mr. Lazenbee set to work, his graceful, economical movements belying his old age. The old man fired up the griddle and lined up the bacon strips and sausage links in neat rows, then melted what looked like half a pound of butter in the big black iron skillet. It wasn't long before the kitchen began to fill with wonderful aromas, and Walter, Alex and Fox were sniffing the air appreciatively, their stomachs growling in anticipation. With speed and skill, Mr. Lazenbee turned the bacon and sausage, put water on to boil for grits, then peeled and chopped the potatoes and onions. He dipped the steaks in beaten egg before dredging them in flour and black pepper, then lay them carefully in the iron skillet. The old man didn't talk while he cooked, just sipped often from a second cup of coffee. Like the first, it was liberally dosed with whiskey. The silence was a comfortable one, broken only by the sizzle of the bacon and sausage and the steaks frying in the melted butter. The three younger men watched the older one cook their breakfast, moving with ease between the refrigerator and the stove, not a movement wasted. At last, Mr. Lazenbee wiped his hands on the teatowel and declared the meal ready to be served. Walter immediately rose only to be motioned back down by the older man. "Just sit back down there, Walt. I cooked it, I reckon I can get it to the table." A few minutes later, a heaping plate of hot food sat before each hungry man, with plenty more in the bowls and on the serving platters. Mr. Lazenbee sat down and tucked his napkin into his shirt collar. "All right, boys," he said with satisfaction. "Around these parts, this is what we call breakfast." Walter, Alex and Fox stared in amazement at the immense meal Mr. Lazenbee had put before them. The sausage was done to a turn, each link plump and perfectly browned. The bacon was crisp and succulent, joined by fluffy scrambled eggs drizzled with melted butter. Mr. Lazenbee ladled out four bowls of creamy grits, thick and steaming, generously flavored with butter and salt. But the piece de resistance was surely the country-fried steak, accompanied by fried potatoes and onions, the whole dish smothered in cream gravy. Alex and Fox looked at one another, then at Walter. There was more fat and salt on the table at that moment than the three of them had consumed in the last five years. Walter shrugged helplessly. Alex and Fox grinned, grabbed their forks and dug in. Soon, all four men were eating heartily, the only conversation an occasional request to pass the salt, or for a second helping of this or that. Walter had a momentary thought for the vast amount of cholesterol he was consuming, but the moment he cut into the country-fried steak, all thoughts of his cardiovascular health went out the window. Crispy on the outside, tender on the inside, swimming in Mr. Lazenbee's smooth, thick cream gravy, the steak definitely was a transcendent experience. Walter closed his eyes as the choice beef seemed to melt on his tongue. Alex had barely swallowed the last of his scrambled eggs before he was reaching for the serving spoon, eager for a second helping. Fox bit into his fourth piece of bacon with gusto, already eyeing the fifth. Mr. Lazenbee matched them bite for bite, pacing himself with the wisdom borne from years of experience. "Get you some more sausage, boys," he said, reaching out with his fork to spear another fat, succulent link. "It's homemade. Ain't gonna get nothin' like this in the store, I'll tell you that right now." He didn't need to tell them twice. "Mmmm," Walter said, mopping his plate with one of Mr. Lazenbee's fluffy buttermilk biscuits. "Mr. Lazenbee. Thank you. That was incredible." "Yes," Alex echoed enthusiastically, "I've never had a meal like this, ever!" As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he flushed guiltily and glanced at Walter, his green eyes full of concern. "Oh, no," he said hastily. "I didn't mean...Walter, I...you know I love your cooking, I just meant—" "It's all right, Alex," Walter said, holding up his hand. "I know what you meant. I've never had a meal like this either. Mr. Lazenbee, you've outdone yourself." "Aw, hell, Walt," Mr. Lazenbee said, casually hiding his look of pleasure behind his coffee mug. "It weren't nothin'. None of that newfangled turkey bacon or pretend eggs like you city boys eat. Just good, simple Southern cookin' like my Momma used to make." Fox groaned with pleasure as he managed one last spoonful of the hot, buttery grits. He pushed his plate away and patted his stomach contentedly. "Thanks, Mr. Lazenbee," he said with a grin. "Many more meals like that and I'll have to buy a whole new wardrobe. I feel like I've gained five pounds!" "You'll work it off, boy," Mr. Lazenbee said with a rare smile of his own. He stood up and put his hat on again. "I've got to get on back over to the homeplace." "We really appreciate the breakfast, sir," Walter said, standing up and opening the door for Mr. Lazenbee. "You didn't have to go to such trouble." "Aw, hell," the old man said again as he stepped out onto the deck. "You're lending me your boys for the day, after all. Least I could do is feed 'em." "Thanks again, Mr. Lazenbee," Walter said. "Fox and Alex will be over in half an hour or so." "Suits me fine," Mr. Lazenbee replied, moving slowly down the back steps. "I've got to drive on out to the main road, check the mail. I'll be back before they get there." "Yes, sir," Walter said, closing the door behind him. He turned to his brats and opened his mouth to speak. He closed it again and just stood there, enjoying the sight of Fox and Alex, both too stuffed to move, sprawled in their chairs, hands resting on their full bellies. "Ohhh, Walter," Fox moaned, his eyelids fluttering. "That was so good. I just want to go to bed and take a nice long nap." "Me too," Alex said, resting his head on Fox's shoulder. "Get back into bed, cuddle under the covers." He paused and then added with a devilish grin, "I'm sure we could find a way to work off a few calories." Walter cleared his throat. "I'm sorry to burst your bubble, you two, but you know Mr. Lazenbee is expecting you over at his place." Fox turned pleading hazel eyes on Walter. "Do we have to, Walter?" he whined. "Yeah," Alex chimed in. "You didn't even ask before you volunteered us. It's Saturday and we have to spend the whole day doing chores and we didn't even do anything wrong." He poked his bottom lip out, giving him a wounded and tragic appearance. Walter poured himself a fresh cup of coffee and sat down at the table across from his two reluctant brats. "Alex, Fox," he said quietly. "Of course this isn't a punishment. Mr. Lazenbee needs a little help around the place, that's all. One day is not going to kill you. Besides," he added, "as soon as I get done with my errands in town, I'm going to come over and help." "But Walter," Fox groaned. "Mr. Lazenbee is...he's just...well, you know." "Bossy? Impatient?" Walter asked with a grin. "Impossible to deal with?" "Among other things," Fox said darkly. "Yeah," Alex said glumly. "Besides, you're leaving for that conference in Chicago on Monday. You're going to be gone a whole week. I want us to spend this weekend together, just relaxing at home." "I know," Walter said understandingly. "I'm going to miss you too when I'm away next week. And I'm sorry I didn't get your input before I told Mr. Lazenbee we'd help out. But he's a proud man and I know he wouldn't ask for help unless he really needed it. He's been a widower for years. His children have all grown up and moved away. Running a big place like that isn't easy for a frail old man like him." Alex gaped at Walter. "Frail old man?" he echoed in disbelief. "Walter, that frail old man just ate a breakfast that would put a trucker to shame! He ate the rest of my country fried steak when I couldn't finish it, and he ate three biscuits." "And he finished my fried potatoes, and he ate six sausage links and had two servings of eggs, AND two bowls of grits," Fox added. "Frail old man, indeed!" "All right," Walter laughed. "Okay, maybe Mr. Lazenbee isn't that frail after all," he agreed. "And I know he can be a bit much to take sometimes. But," he continued, gently but firmly, "he is our neighbor and neighbors help one another. He's just cooked us a huge breakfast, which is his way of saying thank you in advance. It's only for a few hours, guys. He needs our help and I want us to give it politely, respectfully and to the best of our ability. Is that understood?" Alex and Fox lowered their eyes and nodded. "Yes, sir." "Good," Walter said, rising and leaning across the table for a kiss from each of them. He began to stack the plates and gather the glasses together. "I'll do the cleaning up in here. You two go upstairs and get dressed, then head over to Mr. Lazenbee's. I'll be there as soon as I can." "Yes, Walter," Alex and Fox replied. They reluctantly headed upstairs to get dressed for the day's work ahead. "Come on in the house!" Mr. Lazenbee said, holding his back door open. Alex and Fox murmured politely and trooped in. They stood awkwardly in the kitchen, looking around with interest. They had never been inside Mr. Lazenbee's house before. Fox imagined it must look just as it had when Mrs. Lazenbee was alive. There were white curtains at the kitchen window, with an embroidered hem in a sunflower design. There was an antique hoosier cabinet against one wall and an old-fashioned icebox humming loudly in the corner. Mr. Lazenbee shuffled across the faded linoleum toward the hallway. "Come on, boys. I got plenty for you all to do so we best get started." Alex and Fox exchanged looks of mutual self-pity and obediently followed the old man down the dim hallway, the hardwood floor creaking under their feet. The house smelled of wood polish and mothballs. Alex stifled a sneeze and paused to look at a portrait on the wall. The round, pleasant face of an elderly woman smiled out from the oval frame. She wore a blue suit, with a carnation pinned to one shoulder, and a few neat gray curls showed beneath the brim of her hat. "Sir?" Alex said, a little nervously. "Is...is this your wife?" Mr. Lazenbee stopped and turned, shuffling back toward Alex and Fox. He paused and gazed at the portrait for a moment, pausing to wipe a bit of dust from the glass with a wrinkled handkerchief he fished from his pocket. "Yep," he said after a moment. "That's my Viola Marie. Best woman God ever put on the face of this earth." Alex smiled, touched by the love the old man obviously felt for his wife. His own heart shuddered for a moment at the thought of what it must have been like to lose a soulmate, to be the one left behind. The thought of losing Walter or Fox was too awful to contemplate. All those years alone...Alex felt his throat tightening and moved closer to Fox, wishing he could wrap his arms around him, feel Fox's skin against his, but that would probably be a little much for Mr. Lazenbee. "Has it been...when did..." Alex began shyly, then trailed off. He looked down, fearful of having said something wrong. Mr. Lazenbee cleared his throat, shoved his handkerchief back into his pocket. "We got too much to do to stand around here jawbonin'," he said quietly. "Let's get up to the attic." Alex and Fox followed Mr. Lazenbee up the narrow staircase. Alex was downcast, worried he had offended the old man. Fox winked at him encouragingly as they inched up the stairs. Mr. Lazenbee moved slowly and Alex and Fox had to pause frequently to avoid bumping into him. Fox wondered suddenly where Mr. Lazenbee's walking stick was. He wanted to ask but didn't want to be rude. Once they reached the top of the stairs, they came to another hallway. Mr. Lazenbee led the way down the second hallway, around a corner and up another flight of steps. Fox and Alex followed along silently, their Timberland boots echoing on the wood floor, looking at the old photographs and antique furniture with interest. At last, they came to a door. A glance out of the window at the end of the hallway proved they were a good three floors up. The old man pulled a keyring from his pocket and peered at the keys, passing them through his fingers until he found the right one. He fit it into the old brass lock and opened the door. The three men stepped inside and Mr. Lazenbee tugged the chain that hung down from the single light bulb, shedding faint light on fifty years' worth of accumulated junk. Fox and Alex squinted at the many pieces of dusty old furniture and assorted cardboard boxes and groaned inwardly. "All right, now," Mr. Lazenbee said, gesturing around the cramped attic. "I'd be perfectly fine leavin' all this stuff here. Most of it's been up here since Ike was President and ain't bothered nobody. But," he sighed, nudging a nearby box of books with his foot, "this old roof's about to go. Got more leaks than Carter has pills. I got a man comin' from Stanardsville to work on it in a couple of weeks, but in the meantime, I need you two boys to move all this mess downstairs. I'd just as soon truck all this mess right to the Goodwill but some of it belongs to my boys and I figure they might want it for their young 'uns." Fox picked up a faded lampshade and examined it curiously before putting it down on the old dresser where he'd found it. "How many sons do you have, sir?" he asked. Mr. Lazenbee seemed disinclined toward further conversation. "Never mind," he said abruptly, then turned to leave. "You boys haul all this stuff downstairs away from the rain. I'll be back to check on you and I want to see bee-hinds and elbows movin' when I do. I got plenty other chores for you all." Alex turned to Fox as Mr. Lazenbee's footsteps on the stairs faded into the distance. He rolled his eyes and snapped a mock salute. "Yes, sir, Mr. Lazenbee, sir!" he said sarcastically. "Jeez. We're doing him a favor. The least he could do is say please!" "Yeah," Fox sighed, staring around glumly. "It's going to take us hours to move all this junk out of here." Alex kicked dejectedly at a pile of National Geographics. "Well, I guess we may as well get started before the General comes back." "Or before Walter gets here," Fox said with a wince. "If we haven't made a dent in Mr. Lazenbee's chores by the time Walter's done in town, our muscles won't be the only things aching." Alex nodded reluctantly and hoisted a box of books onto his shoulder. "You're right. Besides, the sooner we get started, the sooner we can muster out of Mr. Lazenbee's private army." Fox laughed and grabbed a hatrack with one hand and an old phonograph player with the other. "Lead the way, Ratboy." Alex wiggled his butt at Fox as he sauntered out of the room. Two hours later... Fox dropped a huge box of old toys on the hallway floor and slid down beside it. Alex, panting, came down the stairs, picking his way along, trying to see his feet over the pile of encyclopedias in his arms. Groaning, he dropped them in the corner next to a rusty tricycle and a moldering golf bag. He sat down next to Fox, his elbows on his knees, and leaned his head back against the wall. "Ohhh," he moaned, closing his eyes. "One more trip up and down those stairs and my legs are going to give out." Fox looked over at Alex. He was exhausted, but not too exhausted to notice how adorable Alex looked with his hair hanging in his eyes and that smudge on his cheek. Looking around cautiously for Mr. Lazenbee and seeing no sign of his approach, he cupped Alex's chin and risked a quick kiss. Alex grinned and kissed Fox back, teasing those lush lips with his tongue until Fox pulled away, smiling sheepishly. "We'd better stop before the old man comes back and catches us." Alex's grin widened. "Hey," he whispered, his husky voice making Fox's cock harden uncomfortably in his jeans, "this is kind of sexy. Like that porno video you used to have, 'Bad Boys' School', where the boys are in the equipment room after track practice and the coach comes in and catches them..." "Alex..." "Come on," Alex urged, giggling devilishly as he toyed with the top button of Fox's jeans. "Quick Jason," he stage-whispered, his husky voice slightly higher than usual, "we have to hurry! If Coach comes back and catches us, he'll send us to the Principal's office." Alex paused and nuzzled Fox's neck, grinning mischieviously at Fox's discomfort. "I don't want to get paddled again, Jason," he whimpered convincingly. "I couldn't sit down for a week last time. But you're SO hot, it was worth it..." "Aleeeeex, stop," Fox moaned, shifting uncomfortably. "You're killing me." "Come on, Fox. It's so hot. The risk, the danger of getting caught..." "The danger of ending up over Walter's knee while he conveys to us, clearly and distinctly, just how difficult it was for him to explain to Mr. Lazenbee what we were doing groping each other in his hallway..." "Okay," Alex gulped. "You're right." He sighed and looked down. "Better than a cold shower," he remarked ruefully. Slowly, he got to his feet. "Come on, we'd better get this stuff out of the hallway before we go back for the rest." "How much is left?" Fox asked, idly flipping through an old copy of the Saturday Evening Post. He sneezed and tossed it back onto the pile. "Not much," Alex said, stretching and grimacing as his back popped. "Just the end tables and a couple more boxes, and that big mirror." "Where did he say to put all this stuff?" Fox asked quizzically. "He said the basement, right?" "I think so," Alex answered. "I mean, he said downstairs and I don't see anyplace else all this stuff would fit." Fox nodded, looking around. There was a door close to the bottom of the stairs. "This must be it," he said, moving a pile of clothes aside with his foot. "Nope," he said, after glancing inside. "Closet." Alex stuck his head around the corner, looking into the hallway that led to the kitchen. "There's another door back here." Fox walked around the corner as Alex opened the door. Peering into the darkness, they could see a flight of cement steps flanked by cinderblock walls. "Aha!" Alex said, feeling the wall close to the door, looking for the lightswitch. Suddenly there was a swoosh and a stinging sensation in his backside. "Ow!" he yelped, rubbing his bottom through the denim. "What the Sam Hill are you two doin'?" Mr. Lazenbee demanded, shaking his walking stick at Alex. "I didn't tell you to go in there!" "I...but, Mr. Lazenbee—" Alex started. "We thought you wanted us to take the things from the attic down to the basement," Fox said, his eyes huge. "We didn't mean to—" "Well, you did," Mr. Lazenbee snapped. He took the keyring from his pocket again and locked the basement door, tugging at the knob to make sure it was secure. He shook a bony finger at the two chastened young men. "I told you all to bring that stuff downstairs. I didn't say nothin' about goin' into my basement." "We're sorry," Alex said, flustered. "We didn't realize. We didn't mean to make you mad, we were only trying to—" "I don't want to hear any more about it," Mr. Lazenbee said with a scowl. "Ya'll steer clear of it. There's a coupla spare rooms at the end of the hall. You boys carry that junk in there and then come on out back. I got some more work for you out in the barn." With that, the old man shuffled off, grumbling to himself as he went. Alex and Fox stared at each other, wide-eyed. "What the hell was that all about?" Fox said, stunned. "I don't know," Alex said. "Why would he be so upset about us going into his basement?" "I don't know," Fox said, staring at the closed door. His curiosity was definitely piqued. Why would the old man get so angry over such a trivial thing? His profiler's mind was already turning the event over and over, examining it, wanting to know more. The old man had been a widower for twenty years, obviously loved his wife...maybe the basement was where he kept things that belonged to her, things with sentimental value? Or maybe the old man had a few jugs of white lightning down there, maybe he figured the "city boys" next door with their D.C. connections might call the revenuers down on him. Fox chuckled. Or, he sighed inwardly, maybe he was just a sour old coot. Fox glanced at Alex and the smile disappeared from his face. Alex stood, his head down, still slowly rubbing his backside. Fox moved close to Alex and put his arm around him, not caring if Mr. Lazenbee came back and saw. Alex looked up at Fox, his green eyes dark with hurt. "I don't understand," he said softly. "What did we do?" Fox pulled Alex close, felt Alex wrap around him gratefully. "We didn't do anything, Alex," he said gently. "I guess Mr. Lazenbee just likes things done his way." Alex nodded. He glanced down, then back up at Fox, his expression troubled. One hand lingered on the seat of his jeans. Fox looked at him with concern. "Did he hurt you? With the stick?" Alex shook his head. "No," he said slowly. "He didn't swat me that hard. It's just..." he swallowed hard, looking into Fox's eyes. "Only Walter's supposed to do that," he whispered softly. Fox pulled him close again, stroked the soft dark hair. "I know," he said quietly. "I see why you're upset. But Mr. Lazenbee wasn't trying to do what Walter does for us. He's just old and cranky and set in his ways. From what I can tell, he swats everybody. He even got Walter this morning, remember?" Alex flushed and smiled a little. "Yeah." Fox brushed a lock of hair from Alex's eyes and smiled at him understandingly. "I know it bothered you, what Mr. Lazenbee did. Let's just try and keep on his good side until we're done here, okay?" Alex smiled, his face less troubled now. "Okay." Fox gave his lover one last squeeze and grinned. "Come on, Rat. We'd better get that stuff into the spare rooms and get out to the barn before the old man comes looking for us." Walter sat on the edge of the bathtub, a towel around his waist, swirling his hand in the steaming water. Another prudent investment of time and money, the huge sunken tub in its blue-tiled alcove had more than paid for itself in the hours of pleasure they had gotten from it. Walter looked up with a smile as his two weary brats shuffled in, ready to soak their aching muscles and wash off the sweat of a hard day's work. "God, that water looks good," Alex groaned as he toed off his boots. "I'm right behind you," Fox said, unbuttoning his shirt. "After a day at Mr. Lazenbee's, that tub looks like heaven." "As if you two needed an excuse for a soak in the tub," Walter teased. "You'd stay in there until you grew gills if I let you." He pulled the cork from a small glass bottle and drizzled the pale green oil into the water. The room filled with the cool scent of eucalyptus. Alex and Fox quickly finished stripping their clothes off and stepped gratefully into the tub, sighing with pleasure. Walter grinned and dropped his towel, sinking into the hot water and settling back comfortably. He draped his arms around his brats' shoulders and felt them draw near. For a moment the three men were silent, slowly unwinding as the soothing water did its work. Walter looked down and dropped a kiss on each of the two dark heads nestled against his chest. "You two look exhausted. Mr. Lazenbee really wore you out." "You have no idea," Alex said, his eyes closed. "Loading all that lumber onto the truck was a big job," Walter remarked. "And I'm glad I got there in time to help you with the storm windows. I thought we'd never get them all up." "That's just after you got there," Fox said with a yawn. "Before that, we cleared out the attic, cleaned the barn, spread a truckload of gravel on the drive and raked leaves for about two hours." "And then we had to load all of the bags of leaves onto the truck and drive them down to the dump," Alex griped. "And he told us about fifty times not to scratch his truck." "Have you seen that thing?" Fox asked, looking up at Walter. "I think the rust is the only thing holding it together." Walter grinned and leaned down for a kiss. Fox was only too happy to oblige, pressing against Walter eagerly. Walter left Fox flushed, his lips swollen and wet, and turned to Alex, whose green eyes were already burning bright, his nipples hard. Alex threw his head back and spread his legs as Walter began to kiss and nibble at his neck. "Ah...oh God, Walter..." Alex's voice was husky, his lips parted as he panted with arousal. Fox grinned and began an oral assault of his own on Walter's nipples, while one hand dipped underwater and teased Alex's cock. Walter's baritone chuckle could be heard as one large hand felt along the rim of the tub, found the button and hit it, turning on the water jets full force. The water churned, sending up new clouds of steam, and the three tired men found they weren't quite so tired, after all. Walter stood in front of the hallway mirror, adjusting his tie. His suitcase sat by the front door. He looked at it with resignation. He would only be away a few days, but at the moment, he wanted nothing more than to cancel and stay home. He treasured the time he and Alex and Fox spent in their mountain hideaway. He had only agreed to attend the conference as a favor to an old Bureau colleague who felt Walter's expertise would be a welcome addition to a few of the seminars scheduled. Alex and Fox hovered near the kitchen door, watching sadly as Walter slid his billfold and airline ticket into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and picked up his keys. He opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by a knock at the front door. Walter frowned, sure it was a salesman or a survey taker. Around here, friends and neighbors always came to the back door. Walter opened the heavy wooden door and was surprised to see the Sheriff standing there. "Hello, Sheriff Pemberton," Walter said politely, wondering what was going on. "Please, come in." "Thank you kindly, Mr. Skinner," Sheriff Pemberton replied, removing his hat as he stepped inside. "Mr. Mulder, Mr. Krycek," he said, nodding to them. "Hello, Sheriff Pemberton," they replied, returning his nod. The Sheriff glanced at Walter's suitcase. "I hope I'm not catching you at a bad time, Mr. Skinner." "Oh no," Walter said with a smile. "I'm just off on a business trip. And please, call me Walter." "Appreciate it, Walter," the Sheriff said amiably. "I won't keep you all. I just want to ask you if you've seen George or Frances Dalton lately, or their kids?" Walter thought for a moment. "I did see George down at the post office," he said. "I guess it was last Tuesday or Wednesday." He turned to Alex and Fox. "Alex? Fox? What about you?" Both shrugged and shook their heads. "Have you checked with Mr. Lazenbee?" Walter asked. "Yep," Sheriff Pemberton said with a sigh. "He said he hasn't seen hide nor hair of 'em." "Is something wrong?" Fox asked, stepping forward. "Has something happened?" The Sheriff scratched his head reflectively. "It's the dangdest thing," he said, frowning. "I got a call from Mrs. Dalton's sister out in Lexington. Says she's been tryin' to raise 'em on the phone for about three days now. I went by their place and it was shut up tight. They didn't say anything to anybody about going out of town, near as I can tell. But they ain't gotten their mail in and there's about five newspapers on the front porch." Fox frowned, the wheels already turning. "Have you interviewed other relatives?" he asked quickly. "What about marital problems? Have you—" "Fox," Walter said reprovingly. "I'm sure Sheriff Pemberton has everything under control." Fox looked down sheepishly. "Sorry, Sheriff," he said humbly. "I guess old habits die hard. I really hope nothing's wrong." The Sheriff hooked his thumbs through his beltloops and rocked thoughtfully on his heels. "That's all right, son," he said kindly. "It's too soon to know just yet. Right now, I'm just talkin' to the neighbors and gettin' a feel for the situation. Mrs. Dalton's sister did mention that their cousin down in Florida just had a baby, said they mighta took it into their heads to head on down there and surprise her." "Well, sorry we can't be more help," Walter said, shaking the Sheriff's hand. "If we hear anything, we'll be sure to let you know." "Thank you, Walter," the Sheriff said, turning toward the door as Walter opened it for him. "Ya'll have a good day now." The door had barely closed behind Sheriff Pemberton when Fox began talking excitedly. "Walter, when you saw George Dalton at the post office last week, how did he look? Did he look tired, like he hadn't been sleeping well? What about Mrs. Dalton? How do they get along?" "Fox..." "Their car's kind of old, isn't it? What is it, a '93? I wonder—" "FOX!" Walter's booming voice echoed in the foyer. Fox stopped talking, his bright hazel eyes growing round. He gulped. "Sorry, Walter." Walter smiled and walked over to Fox, pulling him in for a bear hug. "Fox," he said gently. "Let the Sheriff handle this. We've had this conversation before, remember?" Fox bit his lip. "Yes, Walter." Walter cupped Fox's face in his hands, his brown eyes stern but loving. "And what did we say?" Fox looked down, then back up at Walter. He sighed. "Not everything is an X-File." Walter grinned. "Thank goodness." He held his arm out and Alex burrowed under it, grabbing as much of Walter as he could reach. The three men stood like that for a moment, enjoying the embrace, until Walter reluctantly glanced at his watch. "I've got to go or I'll miss my plane," he said, pausing for a kiss from each of his beloved brats. "I'll call as soon as I get to Chicago." "Wish you didn't have to go," Alex said, his eyes watering. "No more conferences, Walter." "Okay," Walter said, holding up his hands in surrender. "I promise, this is the last one, for a while at least. Be good while I'm gone." "Always," Fox said angelically, slipping his arm around Alex's waist. "We love you, big man. Be careful." "Love you too," Walter said, gathering up his suitcase and topcoat. "Talk to you tonight." The door closed behind him and Alex turned to Fox, burying his face in Fox's neck with a sigh. "Miss him already," he mumbled. "Me too," Fox said wistfully, listening as Walter's car started up and rolled down the drive, its tires crunching on the gravel. He smiled down at the forlorn Rat in his arms. "Come on. There's a Halloween movie marathon on the Sci-Fi Network. Might take our minds off it for a while." "Alex!" Fox whispered. "Hey, Alex!" "Mmmmmphh," Alex mumbled into the pillow. "Go 'way, Fox. Sleepin'." Fox made an exasperated noise and reached for the bedside lamp, flipping the light on determinedly. Alex groaned and yanked the covers up, his tousled dark hair disappearing under a mound of goose down comforter. "Alex, come on," Fox urged. "Alex!" A throaty growl emanated from beneath the comforter. Out of patience, Alex threw it back and regarded Fox with two deeply unhappy green eyes. "Fox," he snapped, "it's three o' clock in the morning!" Fox turned his hazel eyes on Alex imploringly. "Please Alex," he said beseechingly. "You've got to come and see this!" Alex sighed and stood up, running a hand through his hair, which stuck up in all directions. Fox couldn't resist ogling his lover's naked body as Alex shrugged into his bathrobe, belted it, and looked at him, his eyes hooded and sleepy. "All right, Fox," Alex said, his tone indicating that he was less than amused. "Put your tongue back into your mouth and tell me just what the hell is so important that you had to wake me up out of a sound sleep?" "Come on," Fox urged again, tugging at Alex's hand. "I can't tell you. I have to show you." Blearily, Alex allowed Fox to lead him downstairs through the darkened house. Alex felt an ache in his heart as they passed through the large, empty kitchen, seeming emptier still without Walter there. He reassured himself with the thought that Walter would be home from the week-long law enforcement conference the next day. Fox opened the door leading onto the huge redwood deck, turning to Alex and putting one finger up to his lips. "Shhh, don't make a sound." Rolling his eyes in the darkness, Alex followed Fox outside, shivering a little in the early morning mountain air. Around them, the Shenandoah Valley lay under a blanket of stars, wisps of fog drifting over the hills, wraithlike and silver in the moonlight. Fox led Alex over to the deck railing overlooking Mr. Lazenbee's property. "Look," Fox whispered. "Do you see?" Alex squinted, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dark landscape, lit only by the low-hanging moon. After a moment, he detected movement behind the neighboring house. He leaned forward, barely able to make out the dark figure as it moved along slowly, dragging something large and obviously heavy. Alex and Fox watched as the figure, laden with its mysterious bundle, disappeared into the shadows close to the house. Alex turned to Fox. "And?" Fox's eyes gleamed in the moonlight, glowing with an excitement Alex knew all too well. "And?" Fox repeated incredulously. "Did you SEE that?" Alex gave Fox a look and shoved his hands in the pockets of his bathrobe. "Let's go back inside before we both get pneumonia," he said, heading toward the kitchen door. Once inside, Alex put a pot of coffee on and sat down at the kitchen table. He took a wistful glance at the clock but one look at the determined set of Fox's jaw told him he could forget about getting back to sleep anytime soon. When the coffee was ready, Alex corralled the sugar bowl, adding an extra spoonful to his mug. Walter would have raised an eyebrow at him, but Walter wasn't there, and besides, he deserved it for his trouble. Fox sat across from him, stirring milk into his own mug, his knees bouncing up and down under the table with manic energy. Alex's green eyes regarded him with a noticeable lack of humor. "That's what you woke me up for?" Alex groused. "To show me Mr. Lazenbee doing some late night yard work?" Fox put his mug down with a clatter, slopping coffee over the rim. "Yard work?" he snorted. "Alex, the man has to be in his eighties! And who does yard work at three a.m.?" Alex looked at him over the rim of his mug. "Who wakes his lover up to watch someone doing yard work at three a.m.? Fox, I've said it before and I'll say it again. No more 'Forensic Files' for you." Fox leaned forward, one hand on Alex's arm. "Alex, this is serious," he said earnestly. "I've been watching. This isn't the first time I've seen him. He's been out there at about this time every morning this week. I can't tell what he's doing, but it's something." Alex snorted and reached for the coffeepot. "So that's why you've been coming to bed so late. You mean to tell me that this entire week Walter's been in Chicago, you've been out on the back deck spying on Mr. Lazenbee?" Alex asked, his eyebrows raised. "Man oh man. If Walter finds out, you can forget about sitting down again in this lifetime." The curiosity burning in Fox's eyes only intensified at the warning. "I'm telling you, Alex. Something suspicious is going on. That old duffer is up to something!" Alex tried to look away but Fox's lively hazel eyes wouldn't let him. Alex saw the look in those eyes and put his mug down quickly. "Oh no," he said, holding up his hands. "No. Fox—" "Please," Fox asked plaintively. "Come on, Alex, partners," he wheedled. "Partners, just like the old days." Alex put his head in his hands. "I can't believe I'm letting myself get dragged into this," he moaned. "We'll be partners, all right. Partners in getting our butts whacked." "All right!" Fox crowed, reaching over and bringing Alex close for a loud, satisfying smack on the lips. "Trust me, Alex. What could go wrong?" Alex crept along, shivering in the chill morning air despite his sweatshirt and jeans—black, of course, at Fox's insistence—following Fox across the field that separated their property from Mr. Lazenbee's. His butt was tingling annoyingly, reminding him that they were definitely Not Supposed To Be Here. Alex gulped a little, his buttocks clenching as he remembered the switching he and Fox had gotten not too long ago for trespassing on Mr. Lazenbee's farm. "Fox!" he whispered urgently. "This doesn't feel right. Let's go back." "Not on your life," Fox said, reaching the side of Mr. Lazenbee's farmhouse and pressing himself against it, the shadows obscuring his face. "Come on, Alex. We're here now. Let's at least get a look." Alex leaned against the wooden siding beside Fox, looking around intently, sure that they would be discovered any moment. "We're going to get caught," Alex insisted. "Let's just go back." "No," Fox said in exasperation. "Look, Alex. His kitchen light's the only one on. Just one quick look, that's all I want." "Just one?" Alex asked, looking at Fox intently. "Just one, I promise," Fox said sincerely. "Please, Alex?" Alex nodded reluctantly. Fox motioned to him and the two men slipped stealthily around the corner to the back of the house. The light from the kitchen window spilled out onto the wet grass, splitting the darkness. His heart pounding, Alex stood against the wall, his old survival instincts in high gear, his sharp eyes scanning the surrounding area for any movement. Cautiously, Fox hunkered down beneath the kitchen window. Slowly, he raised up on his toes and peered into the window, careful to stay low so as not to be seen. His eyes widened and he stumbled back with an audible gasp, almost falling over Alex, who was crouched down beside him. "Jesus, Fox!" Alex hissed. "What the hell are you—" "Look!" Fox said urgently, grabbing Alex by the shoulders. "What?" Alex said, looking up at the window. Fox hauled him roughly to his feet and gave him a shove in the window's direction. "Just...look!" Fox's face was pale in the moonlight. Alex stared at him for a moment, wondering what had him so agitated. Slowly, he edged closer to the window, reaching up and catching hold of the ledge with his fingertips. He stood on tiptoe and looked through the glass, pondering for a moment how fortunate it was that it was so clean, thanks to his own hard work the Saturday before. Of course, it had been hard to miss a spot with Mr. Lazenbee standing a few feet away, helpfully pointing out smudges with ominous waves of his walking stick. Mr. Lazenbee's back was to him. The old man was standing by the sink, doing something Alex couldn't see. Alex's eyes roamed over the rest of the kitchen. There was a large metal bowl on the kitchen table. An assortment of knives lay beside it. Alex could see what looked like two or three large burlap bags lying in the corner. There was something in them but it was impossible to tell what. He watched for a moment as Mr. Lazenbee, oblivious to his presence, worked intently. Alex moved a little closer to the glass, wishing Mr. Lazenbee would move so that Alex could see what he was doing. Suddenly Mr. Lazenbee turned around and walked to the kitchen table. Alex's eyes were sharp but even a rank amateur couldn't have missed the bloodstains on the old man's white shirt. It was covered in reddish smears and spots. Behind him, on the kitchen counter next to the sink, Alex could see an old-fashioned meat grinder. Next to it sat a large white platter piled with what appeared to be uncooked sausage links. Various spice bottles sat on the counter nearby, their caps off. Mr. Lazenbee walked to the kitchen table and picked up the bowl, carrying it back to the counter. Before he turned his back, Alex caught a glimpse of a piece of raw, glistening meat being lifted from the bowl. The old man grinned and appeared to be talking to himself. He turned his back again and busied himself with his grinding. Fox paced back and forth, his eyes alight with excitement, thinking out loud as his brilliant mind raced. "Obvious...should have seen it before...classic controlling personality..." Alex sat at the kitchen table, his head moving back and forth like a spectator at a tennis match. "Fox," he attempted. "Rage issues...isolation...mood swings..." "Fox," Alex said, more firmly. "Would you sit down? You're making me dizzy." Fox made an exasperated sound and stopped in his tracks, holding out his hands supplicatingly. "Come on, Alex. You saw what I saw!" "I saw," Alex said, sipping his hot cocoa calmly, "an old man making sausage in his kitchen." Fox pulled out a chair across from Alex and sat down heavily, his frustration evident. "At three o'clock in the morning?" he said incredulously. Alex shrugged, reaching for the bag of mini-marshmallows and adding another handful to his mug. "So he's an insomniac," he said, tossing the bag aside. "It's not an actionable offense." Fox glowered at him. "Now you're making fun of me," he said, hurt. Alex reached across the table and squeezed Fox's hand. "I'm sorry, Fox," he said sincerely. "I'm not making fun of you, honest. It's just...well, you're assuming an awful lot here." Fox jumped up and began to pace again. "One," he said, holding up a long finger. "There is something in Mr. Lazenbee's basement that he does not want anyone to see. Two," he said, pausing for a sip of coffee, "an entire family just happens to be missing. Three, Mr. Lazenbee has been observed by me, and by you, dragging heavy objects across his back yard in the wee hours of the morning. And four, you and I have just seen him, with our own eyes, wearing bloody clothes and engaging in suspicious activities." Alex stared at him blankly over the rim of his mug. "Do I have to spell it out for you?" Fox demanded, out of patience. "Mr. Lazenbee is a murderer!" Alex set his mug down, splashing the hot cocoa on his wrist. "Ow!" he said, sucking at it. "Come on, Fox. That's a stretch—an enormous stretch—and you know it." "Is it?" Fox snapped, leaning against the counter and looking at Alex intently. "Okay, it's circumstantial, I'll give you that. But let me ask you, why is that sometimes Mr. Lazenbee uses his walking stick, like when he was here for breakfast last weekend, and other times, he doesn't? He didn't use it when we were over at his place working, except on your butt. And he sure wasn't using it this morning when he was dragging that heavy sack across his back yard. And another thing," he said, snapping his fingers at Alex, who looked in danger of dozing off, "why is he so tight-lipped about his past? Won't talk about his wife, won't talk about his kids...what is he hiding?" "Fox," Alex said wearily. "Can we think about it in bed? I'm exhausted." Fox stared at him incredulously, his hands on his hips. "Alex!" he shouted. "Our next-door neighbor is in all probability a mass-murderer! And all you want to do is sleep?" "Well, what do YOU want to do, Sherlock?" Alex snapped. "Call the SWAT team and kick his door in? You haven't got one single bit of proof that Mr. Lazenbee is guilty of anything other than being a cranky old geezer who likes to stay up late." Fox folded his arms mulishly. "Mr. Lazenbee murdered that poor family," he said evenly, "and turned them into sausage." Alex looked up sharply. "FOX." Fox put his hands on his hips. "Come on, Alex. We saw what we saw! The clues are laid out right there in front of us. Do you really not see them? Or do you just not want to see them?" Alex rested his hands flat on the table and shook his head as if trying to clear it. "Fox," he said carefully, his face pale. "Do you know what you're saying? You're saying that...that Mr. Lazenbee..." "Murdered that family in cold blood. Ground their flesh into tiny pieces, mixed them with spices and stuffed—" "Okay, okay," Alex said weakly, holding up his hands. "Obviously, you do know what you're saying. Fox, this is a very serious accusation to make. I mean, what if we're just jumping to conclusions here? What if there's a perfectly good explanation for everything we've seen?" Fox just stared at Alex, his hazel eyes solemn and intense. Alex looked down and swallowed hard. After a moment, he looked up at Fox again, his expression dazed and nauseous. "Oh my God, Fox," he whispered. Fox shoved his hands in his pockets. "Exactly," he said with finality, unable to hide the proud tone that crept into his voice. It was, he had to admit to himself, good to know that his profiling abilities were still razor-sharp. "Our next-door neighbor is not the harmless old man he pretends to be. He is, in fact, a ruthless murderer who is not content with merely snuffing out innocent lives. He is also driven by some dark, pathological need to turn them into sausage and serve them, steaming hot, to unsuspecting friends and neighbors, no doubt watching with glee as they innocently chew—" Alex clapped a hand over his mouth and stood up, nearly knocking his chair over. "Oh God," he said, his voice muffled, his eyes wide. "I think I'm gonna be sick!" He rushed to the sink and bent over it, gasping as his stomach heaved and roiled. Fox quickly turned on the cold water and splashed it on Alex's face with one hand while rubbing Alex's back with the other. "It's all right," he said soothingly. "I'm sorry, Alex. I didn't mean to think out loud like that. I should have known it would upset you, considering those five sausage links you ate when Mr. Lazenbee cooked for us last Saturday." Alex turned his head to look up at Fox, his face shining with droplets of water. "You ate six!" Fox nodded, his eyes already faraway, continuing to rub Alex's back mechanically as he talked. "Yes...the question is why does Mr. Lazenbee have a need to break what is arguably the oldest taboo known to mankind? Perhaps he and Mr. Dalton were rivals. Maybe Mr. Lazenbee felt the need to consume the flesh of his enemy and thus take on his knowledge and strength—" "Fox," Alex said, standing up, his stomach at last—barely—under control. He grabbed the teatowel and wiped his face with it. "The question is, what do we do about it?" Fox snapped out of his reverie and pulled Alex close. Alex wrapped his arms around Fox and rested his head on Fox's shoulder. He felt bile rise again in his throat and choked it back. He'd been through some terrible times before his new life with Walter and Fox. He'd done things, seen things, survived things others couldn't have, but he'd never...no, he'd never eaten...Alex gulped again and squeezed his eyes shut tight. Best not to think about it. "We prove it," Fox said determinedly. "We gather the evidence and we make sure that diabolical old man can never hurt another innocent person again." He looked down at Alex, kissed the younger man's clammy forehead. "Are you with me?" Alex nodded against his shoulder. "Partners," he said huskily. "Just like the old days. If you're sure, Fox, then I'm with you. I'm not going to let you do this alone." "Thanks, Rat," Fox whispered, enjoying the feel of Alex's silky hair against his cheek. "I promise you won't be sorry." Alex looked up with a wry expression. "Yeah," he said ruefully. "Remind me of that when I'm bent over Walter's desk. If he finds out about this little field investigation of ours, our asses are grass." Fox looked around the room nervously, almost as if he expected Walter to come walking in any minute. "He won't find out. It's not lying," he added hastily, when Alex's eyes grew troubled. "We are going to tell him. After we've gathered all the evidence." Alex nodded doubtfully. "Bed now?" he said softly. "Yes," Fox said, taking Alex's hand and pulling him toward the stairs. He paused for one last look through the kitchen window toward Mr. Lazenbee's farm. "Let's go to bed." Alex sighed in his sleep and rolled over, snuggling up to Fox. Fox draped an arm across Alex and yawned, pulling Alex closer until their heads lay on the same pillow. Fox's stomach growled loudly and he gradually became aware of a mouth-watering aroma filling the room. Poking his nose above the covers for a moment, he sniffed the air, then settled back with a smile on his face. Whatever was cooking downstairs smelled fantastic. "Alex?" Fox whispered, still not fully awake. "Hmmmph?" Alex mumbled. "Mmm, something smells good," Fox said, his eyes still closed. He burrowed down further under the blankets. "What is it?" "Sausage," Alex answered sleepily. There was silence for a moment. Suddenly, both men's eyes snapped open. "SAUSAGE!" Alex and Fox shouted at once, sitting bolt upright in bed. They stared at each other and then at the open bedroom door. "Oh my God!" Fox yelped, jumping out of bed. He grabbed their bathrobes from the foot of the bed and tossed Alex's to him. They quickly slipped into their robes and headed for the door, belting them on the fly. They pounded down the stairs and skidded into the kitchen. "WALTER!" They shouted in unison. Walter turned away from the stove, a spatula in one hand, an apron covering his neat white dress shirt. His topcoat and jacket lay neatly draped over the back of one of the kitchen chairs. "Good morning, boys," he said mildly. "Hungry?" He laughed and turned back to the stove, carefully turning the plump links of sausage so that they would brown evenly. Fox and Alex gaped at him, their mouths hanging open. Walter stood, oblivious to their distress, calmly sipping a cup of coffee while the sausage sizzled merrily in the pan. On the countertop next to the stove sat a platter of fresh, uncooked links, each one a pink and perfect masterpiece. "Y'all better close them mouths up, be catchin' flies the next thing you know," Mr. Lazenbee said. Alex and Fox gasped and stared at the old man, who sat at the kitchen table, sipping quietly from his own cup of coffee. Mr. Lazenbee turned to Walter. "Just like I said, boy. My special homemade sausage sure brings 'em runnin'!" Walter laughed and glanced at his watch. "Talk about raising the dead," he joked. "If it gets these two out of bed before eight, it's got to be good." "W-Walter," Fox stammered. "What's going on? When did you get in?" "I got an earlier flight," Walter said, moving the sausage around in the pan with his spatula. "I got in about an hour ago and I didn't want to wake you. Mr. Lazenbee saw me pull in and he brought over some more of his incredible sausage for us. A pound to cook and a pound to freeze. Wasn't that nice of him?" Fox and Alex stared, their mouths suddenly dry. "Alex? Fox?" Walter said, turning to look at them quizzically. "I said, wasn't it nice of Mr. Lazenbee to bring us all of this nice, fresh, homemade sausage?" Fox and Alex started guiltily. "Uh...yes," Fox managed. "Nice," Alex squeaked, his eyes locked on the panful of sausage. "Really n-nice." Walter raised his eyebrows at them. "I think maybe you two need to finish waking up," he said with a grin. "Go on, sit down at the table and have some juice and coffee." Reluctantly, Alex and Fox made their way over to the table and sat down across from Mr. Lazenbee. The old man took no notice of them. He sipped his coffee, holding up his cup to be topped off when Walter brought the pot over. Walter obliged Mr. Lazenbee, being sure to supplement the coffee with a bump of whiskey. Walter set coffee and juice in front of Alex and Fox and went back to his cooking. Alex and Fox watched in horrified fascination as Walter leaned over the frying pan, inhaling the spicy aroma rapturously. "Like I told ya Walt," Mr. Lazenbee said smugly. "Best in the valley." "That's the truth," Walter said, sighing with delight. "I can't thank you enough for bringing this over for us, Mr. Lazenbee. After a week of hotel and airplane food, I'm dying for a good meal." Alex abruptly had a coughing fit, his wide eyes watering as he gasped for air. Fox pounded him on the back and Walter brought him a glass of water, looking at him with concern. "Are you all right, Alex?" "Y-yes," Alex managed. "Just...just swallowed the wrong way, I guess." "Oh," Walter said, returning to the stove. "Drink that water. That ought to fix you up." "Boy needs a good hot breakfast," Mr. Lazenbee said, leaning forward and peering intently at Alex. Fox instinctively leaned closer to Alex, putting an arm around his shoulders. "Yep," Mr. Lazenbee continued, settling back in his chair with a self-satisfied smile. "Nothin' you get at them soopermarkets can come close to good old-fashioned home cookin'." Both Alex and Fox were beginning to look a little green. Walter pierced one of the fat sausage links with a meat fork and grinned in anticipation. "It's nearly done," he said, obviously looking forward to his breakfast. "I think you're right, Mr. Lazenbee. I'll never be able to eat store-bought sausage again after this. You've spoiled me." "Yep," Mr. Lazenbee said, his eyes never leaving Fox and Alex. "I'll tell ya somethin', boys. The secret's in the meat. Ya start with good meat, you'll win the blue ribbon every time." Fox and Alex stared at him, speechless. Walter piled the hot sausage on a plate and rubbed his hands together eagerly. Mr. Lazenbee stood and pushed his chair back. "Well," he said, "it's been real nice jawin' with ya, Walt. Thank you kindly for the coffee. I reckon I'll head on back home and let y'all get on with your breakfast." "Are you sure you wouldn't like to stay?" Walter asked as the old man shrugged into his coat. "Naw," Mr. Lazenbee said, moving slowly toward the door. "I got some things to do back at the house. Thank you just the same, though, boy." He reached for the doorknob. "Mr. Lazenbee!" Fox said suddenly. "Wait!" The old man turned to look at him. Fox looked at Walter and Alex and then back to Mr. Lazenbee, his eyes wide. Ignoring Walter's questioning look, he plunged ahead. "Um...uh...Mr. Lazenbee, have you heard any more about the missing family? The...the Daltons?" Mr. Lazenbee scratched his head. "Well, now, I don't reckon I have," he said. He put his hat on and turned back to the door. "Be seein' y'all." "Wait!" called Fox again. "Fox..." Walter said warningly. Seeing an opportunity, Alex jumped in. "Uh, Mr. Lazenbee," he said carefully, "wh-what do you think happened?" The old man shrugged and frowned, apparently annoyed with the question. "Tarnation, boy. How should I know? The whole family's nuttier'n a fruitcake. They coulda joined the Moonies for all I know." He opened the back door, letting in a rush of cold morning air. "Mr. Lazenbee?" Fox hazarded again before the old man could step outside. "B-but what do you think will happen? Do you think the Sheriff will be organizing a search effort by now?" Mr. Lazenbee turned to Fox with a scowl. "Jack Pemberton? Hap Pemberton's boy?" he said disdainfully. "That boy couldn't organize a two-car funeral. Well," he said, touching the brim of his hat. "Be seein' y'all." He closed the door behind him, leaving the three men alone in their kitchen. Fox swallowed hard as Walter stared at him intently. "Fox? What was that all about?" "What?" Fox said nervously, avoiding Walter's gaze. "Oh, I...I just thought since Mr. Lazenbee has lived here so long, he might have some...uh...insight...into..." he trailed off, fidgeting a little under Walter's scrutiny. Walter put his hands on his hips. "What did we talk about before I left for Chicago, Fox?" he asked reprovingly. "I know, Walter," Fox said, biting his lip. "You said to let it alone and let the authorities deal with it. Sorry." "And that's what you're going to do, isn't it, Fox? Let the authorities handle this?" Fox toed the tiles unhappily. "Yes, Walter." "Good," Walter said. After a moment, he cleared his throat pointedly. Alex and Fox looked at him and instantly felt their stomachs drop at the stern expression on his face. "And another thing..." "Y-yes, Walter?" they asked, looking at one another uneasily. Walter held out his arms. "Get over here!" Fox and Alex laughed, momentarily forgetting their worry, and rushed over to Walter, nearly bowling him over in their enthusiasm. A few moments later, thoroughly hugged, kissed and properly welcomed back, Walter shooed Fox and Alex back to the table where they sat, white-knuckled, watching Walter as he brought the plate of sausages over. He poured himself a glass of juice, grabbed the toast as it popped up from the toaster, rummaged in the refrigerator for the marmalade and sat down, grinning broadly. "This is going to be good," he crowed. "I've been wanting some more of this sausage all week." He looked up at Fox and Alex. "Get your plates. There's plenty for all of us." Alex and Fox turned pale. "Uh...n-no thanks," Fox said in a small voice. Walter looked at him, surprised. "Well, you sure put enough of it away last weekend. Is anything wrong? You're not coming down with something, are you?" Fox mutely shook his head, his eyes locked on Walter's plate with loathing. "I don't want any either, Walter," Alex said quickly, his hand grasping Fox's tightly under the table. "In fact, I...uh..." he faltered. "Well," Walter said absently, picking up his knife and fork. "You two make sure to have something later. But I can't guarantee there'll be any of this left, not as hungry as I am." Grinning ear to ear, Walter eyed the plateful of sausages like a long-lost lover. He speared a sausage link with his fork and sliced off a bite-sized piece, unaware of the agonized looks Alex and Fox were giving him. He raised his fork, opening his mouth, eyes already closed in anticipatory bliss. "WAIT!" Alex shouted. Walter started and dropped his fork. It hit the plate with a clatter. "What?!?" Walter demanded, his eyes wide. "Alex, what on earth is wrong with you?" "I...I..." "Alex?" Walter said again, a little more sternly. Alex looked at him, his eyes frantic. "I...it's just...you can't eat that sausage, Walter!" he blurted. Walter stared at him in amazement. "Why on earth not?" he said incredulously. Alex blinked at him. "Why?" he hedged. Walter retrieved his fork from his plate. "Yes," he said evenly. "Why?" Alex gulped. "Yes!" he said, looking at Fox. Fox looked back at him helplessly. "Um, yes, why," Alex offered, desperately searching for a reason to give their bewildered lover. Suddenly, inspiration struck. "Because," he crowed victoriously, "it's unhealthy!" Walter stared at him. "Say again?" he said, scarcely able to believe what he just heard. Alex, after all, was the one who balked the most at Walter's attempts to run a healthful household. Alex would eat chocolate eclairs for breakfast and wash down his vitamins with Cherry Coke if Walter didn't watch him every minute. Now, his suddenly and suspiciously nutrition-conscious Rat sat beaming virtuously at him as if heart-healthy margarine wouldn't melt in his mouth. "Well, you always tell us how important it is to eat healthily," Alex said. "Doesn't he, Fox?" "Oh yes," Fox said, nodding vigorously. "All the time." "You said it's important to eat right," Alex insisted. "You said a poor diet can take years off your life. And that fat and cholesterol can lead to heart disease." Alex fastened his big green eyes on Walter pleadingly, letting his lower lip tremble ever so slightly. "Please Walter," he said, hitting the older man with all the pathos he could muster, "please don't eat that. I need you. We need you." Walter sat stunned. This was certainly a different side of Alex. Maybe all of his lectures had actually had an effect! "Now, Alex," Walter said reassuringly, putting down his fork. "I don't think one plate of—" "Please, Walter!" Alex yelled, jumping up and running around the table. He threw himself into Walter's lap and hung on tight. "You know what you always tell us about eating right! Please don't eat that fatty, greasy sausage. If anything h-happened to you, I c-couldn't...I couldn't bear it..." he buried his face in Walter's neck and sniffled piteously. Walter looked down at him in surprise and wrapped his arms around him. "Alex, for heaven's sake! It's all right, come on now," he soothed. He kissed Alex's hair softly. "You know I would never do anything that would endanger my health, or yours. That's the great thing about Mr. Lazenbee's sausage. It's all natural and he only uses the leanest cuts of meat. He told me so himself." He set Alex on his feet and cupped his cheek with the palm of one big hand. "Now, we'll hear no more about it. It's not like you to get so overexcited about something so small, Alex. I'm starting to wonder just what's going on around...FOX!" Walter bellowed. Fox froze, halfway to the sink with Walter's rapidly cooling plate of sausage. He turned, the incriminating evidence in hand, and looked at Walter guiltily. "And just what do you think you're doing?" Walter demanded. "About what?" Fox asked innocently, looking anywhere but at Walter. "My sausage," Walter said pointedly, drumming his fingers on the tabletop. "Oh!" Fox said, looking down at the plate in his hands as though he were seeing it for the first time. "Oh, this? I...I was just..." Walter pointed to the empty place on the table in front of him, his expression betraying a distinct lack of amusement. Slowly, Fox approached the table and put the plate down in front of Walter. Walter's pointing finger changed position and indicated the two empty chairs across from him. Alex and Fox slunk back to them and sat down meekly. "All right, you two," Walter said firmly, "I've had a long morning and an even longer week. I've missed you and I know you've missed me, too. I promise to give you my undivided attention, AFTER I've had a hot breakfast." He prodded a sausage link with his fork. "Or at least as close to it as possible." "But, Walter," Fox attempted. "Wouldn't you like some fresh fruit? You love fresh fruit." "And we've got plenty of turkey bacon," Alex added brightly. "Wouldn't you like some delicious, crispy—" "ENOUGH!" Walter boomed. "Now, I don't know what's gotten into the two of you this morning, but whatever it is, it stops now. Do you have any idea just how much time and trouble it took Mr. Lazenbee to make this sausage? Well, do you?" Alex and Fox blanched and gulped. They were pretty sure they did know. Walter looked at them in exasperation. "At any rate, he went to a lot of effort to make this sausage and bring it over and I would LIKE to enjoy it in peace. The next one of you to say a word," he said, pointing his fork at them for emphasis, "will eat his breakfast standing up." Satisfied that Alex and Fox were chastened at last, Walter turned his attention back to his plate. He positioned the tines of his fork over a particularly succulent sausage and... "YAAAAAAAAAAAH!" Alex screamed, flinging himself across the table. His body, encased in his cotton bathrobe, slid across the polished wood like a bobsled, dumping him headfirst into Walter's lap. Walter's plate landed on the floor, scattering sausage links and toast everywhere. "JESUS CHRIST!" Walter bellowed, his arms full of upside-down Rat. After a moment's struggle, he had the guilty party upright and on his feet. "ALEX!" Walter barked, surveying the ruin Alex had made of his breakfast, "what the hell has gotten into you?!?" Alex clasped his hands behind his back and hung his head. "Sorry, Walter," he mumbled. "I...I thought I saw a fly." Walter stared at him, dumbfounded. "You thought you saw a..." He put his head in his hands. After a moment, he looked up at Alex, making sure to include Fox in his thoroughly unamused gaze as well. "I've had just about enough of this," he said to them both, trying hard to keep his voice level. "The two of you seem determined to keep me from enjoying a peaceful, hot breakfast, despite the fact that I have just gotten off a plane where all I had to eat for three hours was a teaspoonful of honey-roasted peanuts. I'm tired, I'm hungry and I am OUT of patience with the both of you." Alex and Fox stared at the floor miserably. "Yes, Walter," they murmured, relieved now that, no matter what else happened, they had spared Walter from consuming any more of Mr. Lazenbee's macabre offerings. "Alex, Fox," Walter sighed, "I'm very disappointed in you both. I purposely took an earlier flight so I could get home to you as quickly as possible. I had planned on us having breakfast in bed and spending all morning upstairs together. Instead, you've gone out of your way to provoke me." Fox and Alex were both biting their lips, near tears. Alex, in particular, looked heartbroken and forlorn, his eyes swimming the moment Walter said he was disappointed. Of course, Alex knew he would be, but hearing it said out loud cut him to the quick. "I'm really sorry," Alex said softly. He looked up at Walter. "Please don't be mad, Walter." "Don't be mad?" Walter asked, throwing his arms wide. "Alex, I'm not mad at you or at Fox, but I am mad at what you've done. The two of you have exhibited some strange, defiant and downright unacceptable behavior this morning. I don't know what started it but I can tell you, I am going to finish it. Now." He turned to Fox. "Fox, would you please clean up this mess? And when you're done with that, I would very much appreciate it if you would make me some bacon and scrambled eggs." "Yes, Walter," Fox said, quickly grabbing the roll of paper towels from the kitchen counter and kneeling on the tile floor. He used the paper towels to pick up the cold sausages, grimacing even as he tried not to think about what they were. He looked up at Walter worriedly as he worked. Fox's skill at cooking, or lack thereof, was legendary in the Skinner-Mulder-Krycek household. To Fox, the fact that Walter had asked him to cook a new breakfast for him showed just how upset the older man was. "Alex," Walter said quietly. "Why did you do that?" Alex shrugged and mumbled. He wished more than anything that he could tell Walter why, that he had done it to save him from eating Mr. Lazenbee's grisly handiwork. A glance at Walter's hurt expression only made Alex's heart ache more. Walter thought Alex was being petulant and demanding. He didn't know— couldn't know—that there was a very real and urgent reason why Alex had prevented him from eating the breakfast he was looking forward to so eagerly. "I'm sorry," Alex said again, meaning it sincerely, unable to meet Walter's eyes. He knew Walter was going to punish him and he tried to steel his resolve. I'm so sorry, Walter, he thought. I wish I could tell you the truth. "I appreciate that, Alex," Walter said. "But the fact remains that you've gone out of your way to provoke a spanking, young man, and I'm going to see to it that you get it." He pushed his chair away from the table and motioned to Alex. Slowly, Alex walked over to Walter and stood in front of him, eyes downcast. Without ceremony, Walter drew Alex down across his lap and lifted up his bathrobe, exposing Alex's smooth, bare cheeks. Fox looked up from his cleaning, his eyes meeting Alex's sadly. His mouth quirked in a expression of sympathy. Alex gave a slight nod and looked down. He gripped the rungs of the chair, waiting for his punishment to begin. "I'm sorry to have to do this, Alex," Walter said sadly. "Especially when I've only just gotten home. This is not the morning I had planned for us, not at all, but you've left me no choice. I treat you and Fox with respect and consideration and I don't think it's too much to ask that I get the same in return. Your behavior this morning has been rude, inconsiderate and downright disturbing, and I love you too much not to punish you for it." Alex snuffled, miserable, his face buried in Walter's pantleg. "Sorry," he choked again, almost too quietly to be heard. He was grateful for the warm hand on his back, rubbing his skin through the bathrobe. "Why do I have to spank you, Alex?" Walter asked quietly. Alex raised his head. "B-because I didn't listen. Because I didn't stop when you told me to and because I ruined your b-breakfast," he said softly, fighting back tears. "I'm really sorry..." "So am I," Walter said firmly, raising his hand and bringing it down with an authoritative crack. Alex jumped and squeezed his eyes shut tight. Walter meant business. His utter lack of amusement concerning the morning's events was conveyed thoroughly and effectively to a six-inch square portion of Alex's right buttcheek, which was now stinging mightily. "Ow..." Alex whimpered. "Settle down," Walter rumbled. "You're going to have to learn, Alex, that when I say no, I mean no." The spanking was short but sharp, and while certainly not the most severe Alex had ever received from Walter, it distressed him greatly. When it was over and Walter tugged him up into a tight embrace, Alex wrapped his arms around Walter tightly and sobbed. "S-sorry," he gasped, burying his face in Walter's shoulder. "Sorry..." "It's all right," Walter said gently, kissing Alex's damp cheek. "It's all over now. I love you, Rat. You're forgiven." "Love you too, Walter," Alex mumbled against Walter's shirt. "I don't know if you know how much," he added softly. Walter smiled and cupped Alex's face in his hands, wiping away the last of Alex's tears with his thumbs. He held an arm out to Fox, who was still trying to get the package of turkey bacon open. Fox put down the bacon and padded over to Walter. Walter embraced them both, making sure each was soundly kissed. "I do know," he said softly. "Believe me, I do. But," he added, gently but sternly, "if this morning's performance is an indication that I need to provide a little more structure around here, trust me, gentlemen, I can do that." Fox and Alex looked at one another uneasily. "No, Walter..." they mumbled. Walter put Alex on his feet and stood up, giving his two brats his best no-nonsense AD look. "I am going upstairs to shower," he said. He glanced at the stove and the mangled but still tightly sealed packet of turkey bacon. "Forget about the breakfast, Fox. I'll throw something together for the three of us when I come back downstairs. In the meantime, I want an essay from each of you on world hunger, with emphasis on the reasons why food should never be wasted." "But, Walter," Alex whined. He'd rather go back over Walter's knee than have to write an essay. Walter gave Alex a look and walked into the living room, returning with two legal pads and two pens. Ignoring the looks of misery on his brat's faces, he waited while they slowly seated themselves at the table. Placing a pad and a pen in front of each of them, he turned toward the stairs. "Fifteen hundred words, minimum," he said crisply. "I want a good start by the time I come back downstairs. If you need resource materials, you may use the computer in my study." Fox and Alex sat alone in the kitchen, staring unhappily at the blank paper in front of them. Fox reached across the table and took Alex's hand in his. "You ok?" he asked softly. "Yeah," Alex said, shifting a little in his chair. "It wasn't the spanking so much. Just knowing that he thought we were deliberately defying him, not caring about his feelings..." he trailed off, biting his lip. "I know," Fox said, squeezing Alex's hand. "But we can't tell him yet. We have to get the evidence together, make sure we can prove it. It's the only way he'll ever believe the truth." Alex nodded slowly, toying listlessly with his pen. "What are we going to do about the rest of the sausage?" he asked, glancing at the freezer. "Walter said Mr. Lazenbee brought two pounds over." "We get rid of it," Fox said, stealthily sliding his chair back. He tiptoed over to the freezer, opened it, and retrieved the plastic bag containing the sausage. "Raw's better for evidence," he said, opening the bag. The meat was not yet hard frozen and he was able to use a butter knife to remove a small sample. "Heat damages the DNA structure." He got out the cling film and wrapped the sample twice for extra protection, then opened the freezer again and hid the evidence behind the frozen carrots. "Good thinking," Alex whispered. Fox gave him a grateful smile. "Now," he said, "we just rid of this." He gave the bag of semi-frozen sausage in his hands a disgusted look. Opening the back door, he crept out onto the deck and down the back steps. He lifted the lid of the large rubber trashcan under the deck and buried the bag at the very bottom. Slipping back into the kitchen, he closed the back door carefully and was nearly back to his chair when Walter's voice boomed from upstairs. "What's going on down there? Doesn't sound like you two are working!" "Just taking out the trash, Walter!" Fox called back. "I'd better see at least a page done by the time I'm done with my shower!" Walter shouted from the top of the steps. "Yes, sir!" Fox said quickly. He glanced at Alex, who was glumly regarding the doodle of a horse he'd just drawn. "Alex, why don't you go down the hall to Walter's study and hop online? Just print out a couple of articles on world hunger so we can get these essays done." "Okay," Alex said, unenthusiastically. He left the room and returned a few moments later with several sheets of paper from Walter's printer. He handed several of the pages to Fox and sat down gingerly. "I hate writing assignments," he griped. "I'd rather he just paddled me." "I know," Fox said, quickly glancing over the material. "And so does he." "Yeah," Alex sighed, beginning to write. Fox was busily scribbling away, racking up two lines to each of Alex's. Envying Fox's eidetic memory, Alex tried to catch up. He was midway through listing the diseases directly or indirectly linked to malnutrition when Walter came into the room, dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt. He looked over Fox's and Alex's shoulders, checking to see how much they had written. "Very good, gentlemen," he said, opening the refrigerator. "Keep going. How does fruit and cereal sound?" "Fine, Walter," they murmured. A few minutes later, Alex and Fox were allowed to put their writing assignments aside while they ate breakfast. Walter told them about his trip to Chicago and they found themselves enjoying a leisurely conversation while they finished their meal. After they were done and the dishes were cleared away, Alex and Fox were once again staring at the hated legal pads. Alex was writing steadily, mentally counting the words as he did, when Walter slid a plate in front of him. Alex looked at the two fresh, sticky glazed donuts in surprise and then up at Walter. Walter grinned and captured Alex's mouth in a loud, satisfying kiss. There was an identical grin and kiss for Fox, together with a bowl of sunflower seeds. "That ought to make it a little more...palatable for you," Walter teased as he headed into the living room. "I want those essays finished in a timely fashion, gentlemen," he called as he settled into his recliner and clicked on the football game. "We've got a week's worth of cuddling to catch up on." Alex and Fox wrote faster. Fox was enjoying a long, indulgent Sunday morning shower. He turned away from the spray, hissing a little as he did. He grinned. Walter had proven last night that he was very glad to be home, and both Fox and Alex had awoken thoroughly and deliciously sore. As he soaped his chest, Fox thought about Mr. Lazenbee and how close he and Alex were to tightening the noose around the old man's neck. Once the authorities—and Walter—saw the evidence, Mr. Lazenbee would be exposed for the cold-blooded killer he was. The old man's basement dominated Fox's thoughts. He was determined to get down there, one way or the other, and see just what the old man was hiding. Who knew what kind of crazy Norman Bates shi- "AIIIIIGHHHH!" Fox screamed, collapsing against the tile wall of the shower as the curtain was ripped back. "For God's sake, Alex, you scared the hell out of me!" Alex stood there, obviously in distress, as Fox tried to collect himself. Hurriedly rinsing off the soap, Fox snapped off the water and wrapped a towel around his waist. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he demanded, dripping indignantly on the shower mat. "Walter's gone, Fox," Alex said, his face chalk white. "He's not here." Fox gave Alex an exasperated look and ran a comb through his wet brown hair. "So what? He's probably just gone out to get a newspaper. Alex, I know this thing with Mr. Lazenbee has you on edge. Hell, I'm on edge, too. But you can't panic every time..." he trailed off as Alex wordlessly handed him a slip of paper. Fox looked at it, his eyes widening as he read. Fox and Alex, I've gone next door to Mr. Lazenbee's. Back in a few. Love, Walter "Fox, it's ten o'clock," Alex said urgently. Fox looked down at the note, then back up at Alex, his expression troubled. "Calm down, Alex," he said slowly, wondering who he was trying to reassure. "Just because Walter went next door doesn't mean—" "Fox!" Alex yelled, slamming his fist down on the bathroom sink. "The note says 'back in a few'! I remember him kissing me this morning before he went downstairs, I heard the back door when it closed. He's been gone at least three hours!" "Holy shit," Fox hissed, pushing past Alex into the bedroom. He dropped his towel and began pulling his clothes on over his still-wet skin. "We've got to get over there, Alex." "Hurry up," Alex said anxiously as Fox yanked his socks up and stepped into his boots. They took the stairs two at a time. They glanced at one another, each knowing what the other was thinking. They made a beeline for the cabinet in Walter's study. Their hearts pounding, they threw it open and pulled out the drawer that held all three men's guns. Walter was strict about their use, particularly where Alex was concerned. They were never to be touched except in an emergency. Alex and Fox reached for them now without hesitation. They grabbed two clips each from the drawer directly below the first and ran for the back door. Please God, each thought desperately as they pounded across the field toward Mr. Lazenbee's farm. Please not Walter. They reached the back of Mr. Lazenbee's house in a dead heat and fell against the wall, panting. "Go," Alex whispered tensely. Fox nodded and inched up the back steps leading to Mr. Lazenbee's back door. He peered through the glass and saw that the kitchen was empty. He tried the knob and cursed under his breath. "It's locked," he growled. "I'm gonna kick it in." "Wait!" Alex said urgently. "We've got to get the drop on him. If he's got Walter somewhere in the house..." he faltered, unable to give voice to both men's most horrible fear. Alex swallowed hard and glanced toward the barn. "Wait here," he ordered. A few moments later, Alex was back, a rusty old file in his hand. "I remembered seeing this in that box of old tools when we were cleaning out the barn last week," he explained, moving past Fox and kneeling down in front of the closed back door. Although the tools available were not ideal, Alex's considerable skill and experience made up for the deficit, and after a moment's work, the old lock was defeated. Cautiously, Alex turned the knob and opened the door. Fox followed him into the kitchen, both men on full alert, their eyes sweeping over the room, missing nothing, desperate for any sign of Walter. It looked as though, once again, the old man was in the middle of stuffing another huge batch of sausage. Fox's and Alex's stomachs roiled as they passed by the kitchen table, where the large metal bowl sat. Chunks of raw meat floated in greasy water. On the kitchen counter next to the sink sat the meat grinder, obviously in recent use, as were the spice bottles nearby. Suddenly, as he investigated the far corner of the room, Alex gasped. Fox hurried over, his heart lurching as he saw what Alex was looking at. Walter's boots, the ones Alex had given him at Christmas a couple of years before. And hanging neatly on a hook above them was Walter's down jacket. Fox and Alex stared at one another in horror, their eyes huge, each one thinking the worst. "Oh, God," Fox whispered, clutching at Alex. "Alex..." A sudden thump from downstairs jolted them both. Fox's lips pulled back from his teeth. His eyes blazed ferociously. "Let's get that son of a bitch!" he growled. Alex's own eyes were glittering slits of fury. "If he's so much as touched him..." The two men ran toward the basement door, praying they weren't too late. When they reached the door, Fox held up three fingers, giving Alex the count. Three...two...one... The door bounced off the wall behind it as Fox tore it open. He and Alex thundered down the stairs, guns drawn. "FREEZE!" Fox screamed at the slight figure who turned toward them in surprise. Fox's and Alex's eyes darted around the dimly lit room, their hearts pounding in terror. Oh God, Fox thought in anguish. I was right! It's all true, everything I suspected! The room was dank and cold. More of the mysterious burlap bags, apparently stuffed full, lay in one corner. Huge plastic barrels dotted the cement floor, along with large vats that appeared to contain some sort of liquid. Objects seemed to be floating in the liquid, but it was impossible to tell what they were. Fox put a hand over his nose, trying to shield himself from the pungent smell that permeated the basement room. Alex stood behind him, gun at the ready, his eyes darting back and forth between Fox and the man who had masterminded this chamber of horrors. "Don't move!" Alex shouted as the figure stepped toward them. What little light there was shone unsettlingly on the rubber apron and thick rubber gloves the man wore. He also wore a pair of black rubber boots, and on his face were a pair of thick plastic goggles. Alex backed up, his gun still trained on the man, and glanced into the corner. There was something there. He nodded at Fox to keep an eye on the suspect and crouched down to get a better look. He stopped breathing for a moment. It was a bag of lime, torn open at the top. Leaning against the wall was a shovel, covered in the fine white granules. Alex leapt to his feet, his heart hammering in his chest. He advanced on the figure in the goggles, pointing his gun in the man's face. "Where's Walter?" he screamed. "Answer me, you bastard! Tell me where he is right now!" Fox advanced on the man as well, his eyes dark with fury. "If you've laid one finger on him, so help me, I'll blow you away," he snapped. "Come on, talk, you coward! WHERE IS WALTER?" "I'm right here." Fox and Alex gasped and spun around. Walter stood at the bottom of the steps, his mouth hanging open. "Walter!" Alex and Fox shouted. "Thank God you're all right!" "Why wouldn't I be?" Walter asked, slowly walking toward them, staring at the guns in Alex's and Fox's hands. "Why don't you tell me what's going on here? You can start with telling me what you're doing with those weapons out." Walter's voice was deceptively calm. Inside, his mind was reeling, his stomach twisting at the sight of Alex and Fox with their guns drawn, obviously prepared to use them. He knew they would never have taken them out of the gun cabinet unless they genuinely believed it was necessary. Walter inched forward, careful to remain in control, the cement floor cool under his stockinged feet. If he took care not to react first and think later, Alex and Fox would follow his example. "Why don't you ask him?" Fox snarled, gesturing toward the rubber-aproned figure that still stood silently across the room. "Calm down," Walter said gently, trying to calm Fox. "I want both of you to put those weapons down right now, before someone gets hurt." Alex and Fox stared at one another, then at Walter. They wanted to obey, but they had to protect him. "No," Alex said softly, his heart breaking at the hurt and shocked expression on Walter's face. "I'm sorry, Walter. We can't." "Alex," Walter said, using his toughest Marine voice. "I'm not asking. I'm telling. Both of you put those weapons down NOW." "Please Walter," Fox begged, turning to look at Walter but keeping his gun trained on the suspect. "Please just let us explain." Mr. Lazenbee took off his goggles and tossed them aside, then put his hands on his hips. "Well, I wish y'all would explain it to ME!" he groused. "Walt, what in tarnation is wrong with these boys? They come bustin' in here, pointin' their guns all over the place, actin' plumb crazy. They like to give me a heart attack!" "I'm sorry, Mr. Lazenbee," Walter said, holding his hands up placatingly. "I don't know what's going on here but I promise you, I'm going to get to the bottom of it." The look he gave Alex and Fox promised dire consequences. "Please Walter," Fox said again. "Just listen to us. You know we'd never do anything like this unless it was a matter of life and death!" Walter gave him a long look. "All right," he said, folding his arms resolutely. "Explain. And it had better be good. AND," he added, as Fox opened his mouth, "while you're talking, I want those weapons pointed at the floor." Alex and Fox sent scathing looks in Mr. Lazenbee's direction, but slowly lowered their guns. "He's a murderer, Walter," Fox said, pointing a trembling finger at Mr. Lazenbee. "He killed that missing family and who knows how many more." Walter's eyes bugged. "Fox," he said, staring at his younger lover incredulously, "think about what you're saying." "It's true, Walter," Alex said, glaring at Mr. Lazenbee. "He murdered them and turned them into sausage. And if we hadn't gotten here in time, he'd have done the same to you!" "Well, if that don't beat all," Mr. Lazenbee said, his crotchety old man's voice creaking. "I heard some tall tales before, but that tears it. Boy, you been watchin' too many of them late night tee-vee shows." "Don't bother lying, Lazenbee," Fox sneered, pointing his gun at him. "Fox..." Walter warned. Fox gave him a pleading look but reluctantly lowered his weapon again. "You're caught, old man," Fox continued, gesturing around him. "The evidence is all here. You may as well come clean." "What evidence, boy?" Mr. Lazenbee demanded. "What in the world are you carryin' on about?" "We know it all," Alex said, staring daggers at the old man. "We've seen you. We know you murder your victims, mince their flesh and turn it into sausage, then bury the rest of the remains down here." Mr. Lazenbee blinked at them. "Now, looky here," he said, obviously out of patience. "I think y'all have lost your minds, that's what I think. Why, if I'da—" "Come on, Lazenbee," Fox interrupted angrily. His relief upon finding Walter unhurt strengthened him. He knew what Mr. Lazenbee had done and he was enjoying watching the old man struggle like an insect on a pin. "Just admit it. You get some sort of sick pleasure out of watching other people eat your 'special' sausage, don't you? It's not enough to kill those innocent people, is it? You have to trick others into consuming their flesh!" "All right, Fox, that's enough!" Walter roared. "I'll tell you something right now, young man, you'd better have some sound evidence to back these accusations up!" "You want evidence?" Fox tossed back over his shoulder at Walter. "No problem. Where's the walking stick, Lazenbee? Hm? Only need it when other people are watching, is that it?" Mr. Lazenbee frowned at Fox. "For your information, young man, I got the rheumatism. When the weather's dry like it is today, I don't need the damn stick!" He turned to Walter. "I'll tell you what, Walt. If this is the way young folks talk to their elders today, I don't believe I care for it." "Don't try to change the subject, Lazenbee!" Alex yelled. "How about all those late nights, eh, old man? Like moving things around your back yard at three o'clock in the morning?" "We've been watching you, Lazenbee," Fox added, his tone dark and threatening. "You sure keep strange hours. Now, why is that, I wonder?" he added sarcastically. Mr. Lazenbee flapped his hand at Fox dismissively. "I'm just sorry you all got nothin' better to do than spy on an old man who ain't botherin' nobody," he groused, sitting down in an old straight-backed chair nearby. "It just so happens, Mr. J. Edgar Hoover, that since my Viola Marie died, I cain't sleep so good. I like working in the wee hours. It's quiet and peaceful and nobody around to bother ya." He pursed his lips and regarded Fox and Alex disapprovingly. "Except the two kooks from next door!" he added loudly. "Don't try to turn this around on us!" Fox shouted. "You know what my definition of a kook is? Someone who makes sausage out of human flesh and serves it to their unsuspecting neighbors!" Mr. Lazenbee snorted. "And here I thought nobody was nuttier'n my mother-in-law. Well boy, congratulations, you got her beat. I ain't never heard such crazy talk. Ain't no meat goes in my sausage except good old Smithfield pork! Ever'body knows that!" "Is that so?" Alex asked smugly. "Then why don't we have a look over here at what's in these burlap sacks?" he said, crossing the room and kicking one with his boot. It made a dull thump. "These are like the one we saw you dragging across your back yard in the middle of the night, right?" he asked, smiling maliciously. "Sure look heavy." "You leave them alone, boy!" Mr. Lazenbee squawked, standing up indignantly. "I didn't say you could touch those!" He looked at Walter. "Walt, I've about run out of patience with these two." Walter looked at Mr. Lazenbee, then over at Alex and the burlap sacks. He took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Mr. Lazenbee. But we need to get this settled one way or the other. Open it, Alex." Alex gave Mr. Lazenbee a self-satisfied smirk and kicked the bag over. The top opened up, scattering its contents across the cement floor. The four men stared at what the burlap sack had surrendered. No one said anything for a moment. "C-cucumbers?" Fox squeaked at last. "Th-those are..." "That's right, Angela Lansbury," Mr. Lazenbee snapped. "Cucumbers. Maybe you've heard of 'em." Alex and Fox stared at the vegetables, their eyes wide and uncomprehending. "But..." Fox attempted. "I..." Alex began. Together, he and Fox gathered their courage and walked over to one of the vats. They looked at one another, took a deep breath, and looked over the side. More cucumbers, hundreds of them. They turned to stare at Mr. Lazenbee, who was standing, eyebrows akimbo. "Happy?" the old man demanded. "Or maybe you'd like to run me in for cruelty to a vegetable!" Alex and Fox looked at Mr. Lazenbee. Suddenly, Alex's eyes narrowed. He walked over to the corner by the staircase and returned with the sack of lime. He tossed it on the floor, where it landed in a cloud of white dust. Alex dropped the shovel next to it with a loud clang. "Maybe you'd like to explain this," he hissed. "A bag of lime and a shovel. You don't have to be a genius to figure out what that's for." The old man stared at him blankly. "For disposing of bodies!" Alex prompted, rolling his eyes. "Don't act like you don't know what it's for, old man." Mr. Lazenbee proved he was no slouch in the eye-rolling department, either. "God bless a donkey, boy!" he bellowed. "That's pickling lime!" Now it was Alex's and Fox's turn to stare blankly. "P-pickling lime?" Alex stammered. "Pickles, boy! Pickles!" the old man yapped, gesturing at the vats. "I'm makin' pickles! That's what the lime is for. The shovel's for stirrin'. What on earth is wrong with you all?" "I...uh..." Alex babbled. He looked at Fox. Fox didn't look like he had a very keen grasp of the situation either. "Looky here now," Mr. Lazenbee snapped. "Don't tell me y'all don't know the County Fair's comin' up! It's the biggest thing in Shenandoah County all year! My pickles took the blue ribbon the last five years runnin'. My sausage took it for the last three. I been workin' day and night the last two weeks to get ready!" Alex and Fox gulped. The sound was loud in the otherwise silent room. They flinched a little when Walter cleared his throat ominously. Even though Fox and Alex avoided his eyes, they could still feel him looking at them in a way that did not bode well for their backsides. "S-so," Fox said in a small voice, "where are the Daltons?" "Well, how the hell should I know?" Mr. Lazenbee shouted, waving his arms. "You seem to be the young man with all the answers around here!" Just then, there was a commotion at the top of the stairs. Sheriff Pemberton and two of his deputies came clattering down the stairs. "We got here as soon as we could," Sheriff Pemberton said to Fox. "What's going on here?" "Ah, Sheriff," Walter said, quickly collecting Fox's and Alex's weapons and putting them aside. "Everything's all right here. There just seems to have been," he eyed Fox and Alex sternly, "a misunderstanding." "A misunderstanding?" Sheriff Pemberton echoed, pushing his hat back on his head. "We got a call about some murders. Your boy sounded right distraught, Mr. Skinner. Seemed to think you was in some kind of danger." Walter looked taken aback. Alex swallowed hard and stepped forward. "We...we thought that..." he looked at Walter helplessly. "I'm terribly sorry, Sheriff," Walter said quickly. "I promise that nothing like this will happen again." The look he gave Alex and Fox said, clearly, that he meant to make sure of it. "All right, then," Sheriff Pemberton said. He walked over to Mr. Lazenbee. "Sure everything's okay, Mr. Lazenbee?" He glanced into the nearest vat and his face lit up. "Oh boy! You're making your famous pickles!" He reached into the vat, only to draw his hand back quickly, his mouth a round O of surprise, when Mr. Lazenbee rapped it smartly. "Ow!" "You stay outta there, Jack Pemberton," Mr. Lazenbee admonished. "They ain't ready yet!" "Yes, sir," Sheriff Pemberton said meekly. He looked at Walter as he reached the stairs. "Things coulda got outta hand here, Mr. Skinner. Reportin' a murder when there ain't been one just ain't the kinda thing we like to encourage, know what I mean?" "Yes, sir," Walter said, shaking Sheriff Pemberton's hand. "I assure you, encouraging is the last thing I intend to do." "Thank you kindly, Mr. Skinner," the Sheriff said. "Be seein' y'all." "Sheriff Pemberton, wait!" Fox called, running to the foot of the stairs. "What about the Daltons? Did you find out what happened to them?" The Sheriff paused in the basement doorway. "Oh, yeah," he said casually. "The Missus' sister called again. Said she got a postcard from 'em a coupla days ago. They went down to Florida, just like she figured. Y'all have a good day now." Walter stood at the bottom of the stairs, his arms folded, pinning his brats with an unfaltering gaze. Across the room, Mr. Lazenbee stirred his pickling brine, grumbling to himself about crazy city folk who couldn't leave an old man to pickle in peace. Walter walked over to Alex and Fox and leaned down, his face about an inch away from theirs. "Don't...move," he growled. He then walked over to Mr. Lazenbee, his face glowing red with embarrassment and anger. He glanced back over his shoulder at his two trembling brats to make sure they were obeying his orders. They stood rooted to the spot, looking like they'd very much like to be just about anyplace else on earth at the moment. "Uh, Mr. Lazenbee," Walter began. "I...I don't know what to say. I'm so very sorry about what happened. I hope there's some way we can make it up to you." Mr. Lazenbee stirred silently for a moment, annoyed at having been accused of such outlandish crimes. "Well," he said at last, "it ain't your fault, Walt. You're a good man. I reckon your boys will be too, one day," he added, emphasizing the last two words. "Really, Mr. Lazenbee," Walter said, all but wringing his hands, "we're all very very sorry. This should never have happened." Mr. Lazenbee sat down again, took his pipe out of his pocket and chewed the stem thoughtfully. "You're right about that," he agreed. "But, I reckon there's no harm done, Walt. Looks to me like your boys got a little more imagination than might be good for 'em, is all." "Yes, sir," Walter said, looking at Alex and Fox, obviously far from pleased. "Alex? Fox? I think you have something to say to Mr. Lazenbee, don't you?" Like penitent schoolboys, Alex and Fox shuffled over to Mr. Lazenbee, their eyes on the floor. "We're really sorry, sir," Alex said contritely. His face burned. "We never should have said the things we said." "We're sorry," Fox echoed, humiliated and ashamed. "For everything." Walter put a hand on each of their shoulders and turned them toward the stairs. "I think it's best that we go on home now," he said quietly to Mr. Lazenbee. "May I call you later on this evening? I'd like to talk to you further about this, find some constructive ways in which we can compensate you for all the trouble." "Sure, Walt, give me a call," the old man said, filling his pipe from his pouch of tobacco. "I'll be here." He lit his pipe and puffed it thoughtfully. "Uh, Mr. Lazenbee?" Fox hazarded nervously. "Fox," Walter rumbled, his hand tightening warningly on Fox's shoulder. "I think we've taken up enough of Mr. Lazenbee's time this morning." "Please?" Fox asked, looking at Mr. Lazenbee pleadingly. "I just have to know," he said, gulping a little as he gestured around the room. "Why do you make your pickles in the basement? Why all the secrecy?" Fox knew he was pushing his luck but he couldn't help himself. If the look on Walter's face was any indication, his butt was on borrowed time. But Fox's inquisitive mind just wouldn't let him leave until all of his questions were answered. "Come on, Fox," Walter said. "Time to go." "Naw, Walt, it's all right," Mr. Lazenbee said with a wave of his hand. "Y'all seen everything already anyway. I reckon y'all can keep a secret." Even though the four men were alone in the basement, he still glanced around conspiratorially before continuing. "My great-grandma was Magnolia Philpott Lazenbee, the pickle queen of Shenandoah County." He paused to let the grave import of this knowledge sink in. Walter, Alex and Fox stared at him blankly. Mr. Lazenbee pursed his lips. City folk! Move to a place and don't bother to learn a thing about its history. He picked up the shovel again, stirring while he talked. "Nobody could make pickles like my Great-grandma," he said, his eyes growing moist at the memory. "Ever' year when it was time for the County Fair, ever'one knew she was gonna take the blue ribbon. All the ladies in Shenandoah County tried their level best to out-pickle her, but none of 'em ever could. People come from miles around to taste her pickles, and ever' one of 'em went home with a jar of their own, just so the folks at home could have a taste of heaven, too." Mr. Lazenbee was silent for a moment, gazing down into the briny depths as he remembered those long-ago days. "Before she died, she give me the recipe. I was just about knee-high to a grasshopper, but she pressed that piece of paper into my hand and made me promise never to share it with another living soul," he said, as Fox opened his mouth to speak. Fox closed his mouth abruptly. Mr. Lazenbee sighed and shoved his hands into his pockets, looking at the three men meaningfully. "Plenty of folks 'round here would give their eyeteeth for that recipe," he said, nodding wisely. "They been tryin' to get their paws on it for over a hundred years. That's why I make sure to keep ever'thing locked up tight." Fox swallowed. "Wow," he breathed. "That's it? That's why you got so upset when Alex and I were going to come down here?" "Yep," the old man said, giving the pickles a final stir before leaning the shovel up against the vat. "Cain't afford for word to get out. That's why I bring my cucumbers in after dark. If folks even think I'm makin' a batch, there ain't much they wouldn't do to try to get a peek at the process." "Mr. Lazenbee," Alex said hesitantly. "We never...I mean, we really thought Walter..." "Yeah," Fox said, overcome with remorse. "I...I didn't think..." "I suspect you will next time," the old man said with a sly glance toward Walter. "I know one thing. If'n I'da ever pulled a stunt like this, my Daddy'd a'had me out to the woodshed." The twin gulps were loud in the quiet basement. "We'll just see ourselves out, sir," Walter said, propelling Alex and Fox up the stairs. "Goodbye, Mr. Lazenbee." They paused in the kitchen so Walter could put his boots on. Alex and Fox stood fidgeting by the door, giving one another increasingly worried looks. Neither of them could remember ever seeing Walter this angry, or this hurt. "We...we saw your boots here when we came in, Walter," Fox said softly. "We thought—" "I left my boots in the kitchen," Walter said tightly, slipping into his coat, "because I washed the cars this morning. The area around our driveway was muddy and I didn't want to track the mud all over Mr. Lazenbee's house." He opened Mr. Lazenbee's back door. "Let's go. I don't want to hear another word out of either of you until we get home." Silently, trying not to think about what was to come, Alex and Fox followed Walter across the field like scolded puppies, their heads down and their hands in their pockets. Each had the feeling that it was going to be a long, long afternoon. Walter walked across the back deck and pulled his keys from his jacket pocket. He opened the back door and Alex and Fox filed silently past him into the kitchen. Walter closed the door and immediately went into his study, where he returned Fox's and Alex's weapons to the cabinet. He returned to the kitchen where his brats stood, heads down, expecting to be sent to their respective corners to await the punishment they had unquestionably earned. Their buttocks clenched nervously at the thought. Since the three men had entered into their discipline relationship, Alex and Fox had required correction on many occasions. But standing now in the sunny kitchen, shifting from foot to foot under Walter's stern gaze, both men were keenly aware that they had never been in more serious trouble. Finally, Walter spoke, his voice low and quiet. "I'm going for a walk." Fox and Alex looked up in surprise. "Walter?" Alex said, unsure. His expression betrayed how troubled he was at this change in routine. "Do...do you want us in our corners?" Fox asked softly. Walter turned and opened the door. "Do whatever you think is best," he said abruptly. He walked out, closing the door behind him. Alex rushed to the door and stared through the window, one hand against the glass. Fox stood behind him, distraught, watching as Alex stood silently, the muscles in his back taut and tense under his shirt. "Alex?" Fox said hesitantly. Alex didn't turn around. He kept his back turned to Fox, staring after Walter's retreating figure. Fox moved a little closer, biting his lip anxiously. "Alex?" he said again. "I'm sorry. This is all my fault. I should have listened to you. I just got caught up in everything and I got you involved and I...I shouldn't have. Please don't be angry with me. I didn't mean for you to get into trouble." Alex didn't speak. He continued to look through the window. Walter was now a dark speck in the distance, walking south toward the stream. "Alex?" Fox asked again, his voice trembling. He reached out to touch Alex's shoulder, then faltered. "Please? I'm sorry. I'm—" Suddenly, Alex turned and flung himself into Fox's arms. He buried his face in Fox's shirt, clinging to him tightly. Startled, Fox put his arms around him. "Alex," he whispered, stroking the younger man's hair gently. "Hey, it's all right," he added awkwardly. Alex wrapped himself around Fox even more tightly. Fox could feel him shaking. Alex lay his head on Fox's shoulder, his ragged breathing the only sound in the room. Fox held Alex close, rubbing circles on his back the way Walter did. He felt Alex relax slightly. Finally, Alex spoke, his voice soft and hoarse. "He's really mad." Fox felt Alex's fingers tighten around a handful of his shirt. "Yeah," Fox said softly, rubbing Alex's back a little harder. "He's upset. But it's going to be okay." Alex swallowed hard. Another few moments passed before he spoke again, his voice barely a whisper. "He's coming back." It was more a question than a statement. He pressed his face against Fox's shoulder, his words muffled against the material. "Please. Say he will." Fox looked down at Alex in surprise. "Of course he will, Alex," he said, aghast. Alex stood shaking, his face hidden, desperate to believe Fox but frightened at the same time. What if Fox was wrong? What if they had finally pushed Walter too far? "Alex," Fox said gently, cupping Alex's chin and forcing him to look up. "Walter is coming back. I promise. You know he'd never leave us." Alex looked toward the door, then back at Fox, his green eyes troubled. "He never did this before," he said softly. Walter always applied plenty of structure when it came to discipline. They waited in their corners for Walter to call them. The infraction was discussed, the appropriate punishment was meted out, then they were forgiven. The routine never varied, and that constancy gave Alex and Fox the security and comfort they needed as they accepted the consequences of their actions. Alex was right. Walter hadn't ever done this before. Fox's eyes stung and his stomach tied itself in knots as he thought about what he had done. Obviously, Walter needed time to calm down before he dealt with the matter at hand. Fox broke out in a light sweat as he thought about the punishment to come. He looked at Alex, who was still looking at him searchingly, mutely pleading for reassurance. Fox swallowed past the lump in his throat and pulled Alex close again, touched that Alex was turning to him for comfort in Walter's absence. Fox kissed Alex gently, putting his own worries aside for the moment. Alex needed him, needed to know that everything would be all right in the end. "Alex, listen to me," Fox said gently, making sure to keep eye contact with Alex as he spoke. "I'm not going to lie to you. We're in trouble. BIG trouble. When Walter gets back—and he is coming back—he is going to blister our butts. I hope you're looking forward to Thanksgiving dinner because it's probably going to be the next meal we get to eat sitting down. But," he added, managing a small, encouraging smile, "no matter how upset or disappointed Walter may be, he would never, ever leave us. You know that, don't you?" Alex looked down for a moment, then nodded slightly. "Yeah," he whispered, with another anxious glance toward the back door. "I just feel so bad, Fox. Like he can't even stand to look at us. Like he just had to get away from us." "He just needs some time," Fox said, his voice steady and calm. He was, he had to admit to himself, a little worried about Walter's behavior. But a sense of peace came over him as he comforted Alex. Walter was coming back. He would always come back. "He's doing this for us, you know," he said, smoothing Alex's hair back out of his eyes. "He's taking time out to cool down. That's all, Alex. I promise." Alex was quiet for a moment and then nodded, offering Fox a brief smile. Fox saw some of the tension leave Alex's shoulders and knew his words had sunk in. "I think we should be in our corners when Walter gets back," Fox said quietly. "Okay?" "Okay," Alex said, fingering the hem of his shirt nervously. "Should we leave our clothes on or...?" "I think so," Fox said. "Walter might be a while getting back." Alex nodded and the two men walked into the living room. Fox walked toward his corner. He felt a tug on his sleeve and paused. "Fox?" Alex said, his expression worried. "Don't...don't tell Walter I asked, okay? Please." "I won't tell him, Alex," Fox replied. He put himself in his corner. "I think you should be the one to do that," he added gently, before turning and facing the wall. Alex put himself in his corner, between the fireplace and the kitchen door. He was glad he'd told Fox about his fears. He knew Fox was right. Walter would never leave them. He felt badly for doubting Walter, even for a moment. Alex hugged himself and stared at the wall for a moment, then looked toward the kitchen. If he craned his neck a little, he could see the back door. Walter closed the back door behind him. The kitchen was empty. He had taken a long walk around their property, giving himself time to cool down. Act, Walter, he thought to himself. Don't react. Walking away from Fox and Alex had been difficult, but it was also necessary. He had never punished them in anger before and didn't intend to start now. Walter toed off his boots, lost in thought. What had started out as a peaceful autumn morning helping a neighbor had turned into a disaster. He shook his head as he unzipped his jacket. What on earth had gotten into Fox and Alex? He took off his glasses and scrubbed a hand over his face. He was annoyed, there was no doubt about it. He only hoped it would be possible to make amends to Mr. Lazenbee. In the meantime, he had two brats that needed to learn a thing or two. Walter intended to make sure the lesson was remembered. He glanced briefly toward the stairs and then headed into the living room. He paused in the doorway, his eyes soft as he gazed at his two brats, each standing humbly in his corner. Walter smiled approvingly, his heart full of love for his undoubtedly nervous brats. In his absence, they had done what they knew he would have expected them to do. The afternoon was going to be a long and difficult one for all three of them, but they had taken a small step in the right direction. "Alex, Fox," Walter said quietly. Two somber faces lifted and turned to look at him. Walter held out his arms. Alex and Fox rushed into them, inhaling his scent, surrounding themselves with him. Relief rolled off them in waves. Walter hugged them close and they stood silently, just being together, each gripped with unspoken emotion. "We're sorry, Walter," Alex whispered. "It was my fault, Walter," Fox said, his eyes bright with tears. "I—" "We're not going to discuss this in the living room," Walter said firmly. "Into the study, please, gentlemen." Obediently, Alex and Fox followed Walter through the kitchen and down the hallway to the study. Walter sat behind his desk, contemplating the two young men who sat facing him, perched on the edges of the matching wing chairs. Walter took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. He put the glasses back on and looked at Fox and Alex, making sure he had full eye contact from them both before he spoke. "I hardly know where to begin," Walter said sternly. "Shall I start with your blatant disregard for my explicit instructions regarding the Dalton family's disappearance? I seem to remember telling you to let the authorities handle it. That is what I said, isn't it, Fox?" "Yes, Walter," Fox said meekly. "And you told me that you would, as I recall," Walter said, eyeing Fox and Alex intently. "However, it would seem that instead of keeping your word, you and Alex went behind my back and began your own investigation. An investigation that, despite your not being privy to all the facts of the case, ended with you making a very serious accusation against an innocent man." "Walter, please," Fox said anxiously, glancing at Alex. "Please don't hold Alex responsible for my actions. He didn't want to do it. He tried to tell me—" "And you should have listened, Fox," Walter interjected. "Alex was present the morning the Sheriff stopped by. He heard me tell you to leave it alone. He knew perfectly well how I felt about the situation. I know you can be persuasive, Fox, but Alex is a grown man and he knows right from wrong. Wouldn't you agree, Alex?" "Yes, sir," Alex said softly. "Walter's right, Fox. I was wrong, too. I should get the same punishment as you." Fox nodded reluctantly, squeezing Alex's hand apologetically. Alex gave him a reassuring nod and moved a little closer to him, each giving strength to the other. "Now that we've determined culpability," Walter rumbled, pinning them both to his chairs with a stern look, "we can move on to your complete disregard for Mr. Lazenbee's privacy. It would seem the two of you spent a good deal of time last week spying on the man. Am I correct in my assumption that, in the course of your illicit investigation, you felt you had to sneak onto his property in order to get a better look?" Alex and Fox exchanged guilty glances. "Yes, Walter," they mumbled. "We've discussed the issue of trespassing before, in some detail," Walter said thoughtfully. "I thought I had made myself quite clear on the subject, but it would appear that was a hasty conclusion on my part." Alex and Fox gulped and said nothing. "And speaking of hasty conclusions," Walter said, mentally racking up the charges against the two miscreants who sat, fidgeting, before him, "I suppose I can attribute your assault on my breakfast yesterday to this nonsense?" "Yes, Walter," Alex said, staring down at his hands. "I'm sorry for ruining your breakfast, but," he added, looking up at Walter entreatingly, "we really thought it was...we just couldn't stand to watch you eat that," he said softly. "We were trying to protect you." "Just like you were trying to protect me this morning?" Walter prompted gently. "Yes," Alex said, blinking back tears. "I know we were wrong, Walter. We messed up. We shouldn't have done what we did. But when we went in there today, we really thought that you were in danger. We thought that he might...that he would...h-hurt you." Alex's voice was a bare whisper. He looked up at Walter, his eyes haunted, troubled still by the sick feeling he'd had in his stomach when he'd raced down the basement steps, terrified of what he might find. "Or worse." "I understand that, Alex," Walter said softly. "Fox, you too. I know you would never have done what you did if you weren't genuinely worried. But," he said a bit more firmly, "none of this would have happened if you'd simply come to me in the first place." He placed his hands flat on the desk and looked sternly at each of them, in turn. "Why not just tell me of your suspicions? We could have talked about it and avoided all of this." "I didn't think you would believe us," Fox said. "I wanted to gather as much evidence as I could first, but...but things just seemed to get out of control." "You should have come to me, Fox," Walter said quietly, the hurt evident in his brown eyes. "I thought we could talk to each other about anything. Don't you trust me?" Fox looked down, his eyes swimming. "Yes," he said softly. "I really do, Walter, I swear. I guess I just...I guess I wanted to show that I haven't lost my edge. That I can still solve a case." He looked up at Walter guiltily. "I'm sorry, Walter. I wasn't thinking about you or Mr. Lazenbee or even the Daltons. I was thinking about me. About making the collar and impressing everyone with my brilliance." He hung his head, his face bright red with shame and embarrassment. "Fox," Walter said quietly. Fox looked up and was surprised to see Walter smiling tenderly. "I think that's a very perceptive bit of profiling, don't you?" Fox looked at Walter, unsure for a moment if the older man was teasing him, but found only love and understanding shining from Walter's eyes. "Yeah, I guess so," Fox said, smiling a little in spite of himself. He looked down again, disgusted with his own behavior. He'd been so worried about nailing Mr. Lazenbee and impressing Walter and Alex and the local police with his steel trap of a mind and uncanny profiling abilities, he hadn't stopped to consider the consequences if he turned out to be wrong. Wrong, Fox? he thought to himself sarcastically. Oh no, that can't happen, right? Fox Mulder, the brilliant, Oxford-educated profiler can't possibly be wrong. Fox slumped dejectedly in his chair. He'd been so arrogant, so selfish, continuing merrily on his destructive little orbit through his own self-absorbed universe, never once stopping to think how his actions affected anyone else. He looked up, his gaze resting briefly on Walter. Walter, his tough, patient, loving Top, finally home after a week away and unable even to enjoy it. Forced to spend a beautiful Autumn afternoon doing damage-control and meting out discipline after Fox had managed to wreak havoc with his theories, his suspicions and his refusal to believe anyone else could possibly be right. Fox turned to look at Alex. Poor Alex, who had tried fruitlessly to talk some sense into Fox but had ended up instead hopelessly embroiled in this mess, and who was now going to be punished alongside the one responsible for it all. "I'm sorry, Walter, Alex," Fox choked, unable to look either of them in the eye. "I was selfish and arrogant and I'm...I'm just sorry. For everything." Alex stood and leaned down, hugging Fox tight. "Don't say that, Fox," he said, his husky voice full of emotion. "Don't do this to yourself. Your heart was in the right place. I know it was." Walter stood and walked around the desk, kneeling down beside Fox's chair. "Alex is right," he said gently. "You did disobey me. You both did," he added. He looked up at Alex and, seeing his remorseful nod, continued. "You acted impulsively and without thought for the way it would affect others, and you will be punished for that. But Fox," he said, pulling Fox in for a tight embrace, "the reason for punishment is to help you learn. And what you've said just now shows me that you're already learning from what's happened. I know you regret it and I know that it won't happen again." "No, Walter, it won't," Fox said against Walter's shoulder. "I promise." "Good," Walter said, rising and returning to his chair. "Now. We've covered the disobedience, the dishonesty, the invasion of privacy. I hope you two realize how serious this is. You went off, on your own, and launched an investigation that resulted in your bursting into Mr. Lazenbee's basement with loaded firearms. It's just fortunate that no one was hurt," he added sternly. "Yes, Walter," Alex and Fox murmured hastily. "I understand that you were genuinely concerned for my safety," Walter said. "But the fact remains that, if you had obeyed me in the first place, that concern never would have existed. The situation this morning was a very dangerous one. Mr. Lazenbee is a very elderly man and your actions could have had harmful results. As it is, we're fortunate that no permanent harm was done except for, possibly, our relationship with our closest neighbor." Alex and Fox studied the carpet miserably. "Yes, Walter." "I know Mr. Lazenbee can be difficult. But he's been a good neighbor to us and he didn't deserve to be treated the way he was today. I am going to do everything in my power to restore his confidence and trust in us and so are you. Is that clear?" "Yes, sir," Alex said, a second ahead of Fox. "We're really sorry, Walter." "I know," Walter said, not unkindly. "But, unfortunately, that doesn't change things." He stood and crossed the room to the closet. He returned to his desk and stood beside it. Alex's and Fox's hearts sank at the sight of the rattan cane in his hands. "Oh, no, Walter," Alex breathed in spite of himself, unsure what was more upsetting to him, the fact that he was going to be caned, or the fact that the situation was grave enough to warrant it. Walter rarely used the implement, and then only for the most serious offenses. Alex could remember only two or three prior occasions when the cane had left its place in Walter's study closet. "I'm sorry, Alex," Walter said grimly. "I don't like it any more than you do, but your behavior leaves me no alternative. You've earned the full dozen, both of you, and you know that." "Yes, sir," Alex said softly, his eyes already brimming. "Let's get this over with, gentlemen," Walter said, steeling himself for the unhappy task at hand. "Pants and boxers down and bend over, please." Slowly, Fox and Alex dropped their jeans and boxers to their knees and bent over Walter's desk, gripping the edge tightly. Walter stood behind them, his heart heavy, wishing they could be doing anything else in the world right now. His eyes passed over the two smooth, white bottoms he cherished. He hated having to mark them, hating having to hear his lovers' cries. He felt himself wavering slightly and straightened his spine, admonishing himself to remember his duty. They need you, Walter, he thought to himself sternly. Stop thinking of yourself and think of them. "Are we clear on what this punishment is for?" Walter asked. "Fox?" "For disobeying you when you said to let the authorities handle the Dalton investigation," Fox said, his eyes shut tightly. "For being dishonest and sneaking around instead of telling you the truth." "Yes, that's right, Fox," Walter said, resting his hand on Fox's back gently. He moved on to Alex. "Alex? Why are you and Fox getting a caning?" "F-for trespassing on Mr. Lazenbee's land and spying on him," Alex gulped, his knuckles white as he clung to the desk. "For accusing him of something horrible when we didn't have any real evidence, and for creating a dangerous situation where someone could have been badly hurt or...or worse." "That's right, Alex," Walter said, caressing his hair briefly. "I think you both have a clear understanding of what you did wrong. I'm truly sorry that we have to do this. I don't like having to cane you. But a situation this serious calls for serious consequences." He paused and cleared his throat, hefting the cane in his hand. "Twelve strokes each, gentlemen, and I want you counting loud and clear. Fox, you get the first stroke." The sound of the cane landing on bare skin was loud in the closed room. Fox gritted his teeth, trying not to swear as the line of fire blazed across his naked bottom. "One," he gasped. "Alex, you're next," Walter said, positioning himself behind him. The cane swooshed through the air and painted a red line across Alex's white cheeks. "One!" Alex yelped. "Ow..." He felt Fox's hand on his and clung to it gratefully. The cane split the air again. "Two," Fox groaned. Walter spaced the strokes evenly, alternating between Fox and Alex, careful not to damage the skin while making sure the cane landed with maximum sting. He wanted his brats to think twice before doing anything like this again. "N-nine," Alex whimpered, his voice catching. "Oh, God, Walter, please, I'm sorry, I'm sorry—" "Stay with me, Alex," Fox urged, even as he received his tenth stroke. "Ow...Jesus..." He lay his head on the desk, sweat beading on his forehead. His butt was throbbing in time to his heartbeat. Damn, it hurt! He knew he deserved it but it was hard to stay still. He looked at Alex, gripping his hand more tightly. "Come on, Rat. Almost there." "Count, Fox," Walter prompted. "Sorry, Walter," Fox said, wincing. "Ten." The cane landed again, this time along the soft undercurve of Alex's buttocks. "T-ten," Alex gasped. He put his head down and sobbed. "Please, Walter, please..." "Look at me, Alex," Fox urged. Slowly, Alex turned his face toward him, his eyes wet. "I'm sorry," Fox said, his own eyes spilling over. "This is my fault. I'm so sorry." "Shhh," Alex said, managing a smile. He squeezed Fox's hand. "I love you, Fox." Walter stood watching them with moist eyes. "I love you both," he said. "I'm proud of you for taking your punishment so well, and for helping each other through it. You've only had ten strokes each but I'm going to let you decide. Do you think you've learned your lesson?" Alex and Fox looked at one another, the tears sparkling in their eyelashes. "Yes, Walter," they both said at once. "Then we're done," Walter said, relieved. He tossed the cane aside and Fox and Alex straightened up, grimacing a little as their sore bottoms protested. They looked down at the jeans and boxers pooled around their ankles. They looked at one another and stepped out of them, leaving themselves naked from the waist down. Walter gathered them gently in his arms and held them. "I hated doing that," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "I know," Fox said, burying his face in Walter's shirt. The material was rapidly soaked with tears. "We both know." "Love you, Walter," Alex said, clinging to them both. "We both do. We're sorry." "So sorry," Fox echoed, his chest hitching. "I love you. I won't do it again, I promise." "I know you won't," Walter answered softly, holding them close. "I love you both, more than anything. I love you enough to punish you when you need it, even if it breaks my heart to do it." Walter's soft words broke the last of Alex's and Fox's defenses and they both sobbed hard, releasing the last of the tension and anxiety that had built up over the last week. Walter was safe. The Daltons were safe. And their cranky old neighbor was just that, and nothing more. Epilogue: Alex and Fox lay facedown on the huge bed, their heads resting on fat goosedown pillows. Walter sat cross-legged between them, the jar of aloe cream in his hand. He alternated between Alex and Fox, gently smoothing the thick, cooling cream on their tender bottoms. "Ahhh, Walter," Alex breathed as Walter's surprisingly gentle fingers caressed his hot, red skin. "That feels so good..." "Be still now," Walter mock-growled, taking another dollop of cream on his finger. "If you're not still, I might...slip...and..." His finger, loaded with cream, trailed down Alex's crack and dipped inside him, teasing his hole with a delicate flick. "Oh, Walter!" Alex yelled, clutching the pillow. "Oh my God...more..." "Naughty," Walter said, smiling as he dealt Alex's bottom a very light swat. "You're being punished, don't forget." "No, Walter," Alex said humbly into the pillow. "I won't forget." The stinging in his backside, despite the soothing cream, guaranteed he wouldn't. "Can you remind me too?" Fox asked pitifully, thrusting his well-striped bottom in the air. Walter dealt him a gentle swat of his own. "There." "Walter..." Fox pouted. "All right," Walter said, creaming Fox's bottom, inside and out. Fox gasped and bucked against the bedclothes. He and Alex both groaned when Walter put the lid back on the jar and stood up. "Aw, come on, Walter," Fox complained, resting on his elbows. "You can't get us all hot and bothered and then just walk away!" "Can't I?" Walter said, putting the jar down on the nightstand. "Like I said, you're being punished." He watched, willing himself to stop smiling as his brats tried to out-pout one another. "All right, you two," he said after a moment, eyeing them sternly. "We need to discuss the rest of your punishment." "But Walter," Alex whined. "We got a caning!" "Yes, you did," Walter said. "But believe me, you're not done yet. First," he said, raising an eyebrow at the younger men as they opened their mouths to protest further, "you can consider yourself grounded indefinitely. You can leave your car keys on the desk in my study. You will not leave this house, even to go into the back yard, without me." He regarded Alex's and Fox's crestfallen faces. "You can use this time to contemplate the importance of respecting other people's property, and their privacy." "Yes, Walter," Alex and Fox mumbled unhappily. "Second," Walter continued sternly, making sure he had his brats' undivided attention, "I am going to ask Sheriff Pemberton to advise me of exactly how much money this morning's incident cost the taxpayers of Shenandoah County, right down to fuel, mileage on the cruisers, and man-hours. And you are going to each write a check to the Sheriff's Department for half of that amount, which you will then hand deliver, along with sincere, humble letters of apology. Is that clear?" "Yes, sir," Alex and Fox replied dutifully, feeling rather sorry for themselves. Walter read their faces as clearly as if the thoughts were printed on their foreheads. Well, he thought to himself, they only think they feel sorry for themselves now. Wait until they hear what's next. "When you two came up here to lie down, I made a phone call to Mr. Lazenbee," Walter said, almost casually. "I apologized to him again for the inexcusable behavior he was subjected to this morning. I made a suggestion regarding restitution and he found it more than satisfactory." Alex and Fox exchanged worried looks. "Y-you did?" Fox asked nervously. "I certainly did," Walter answered calmly, folding his arms. "For the next month, you and Alex will help Mr. Lazenbee on his farm, every day. He wants to fence in his south pasture and I think a few weeks cutting wood, digging postholes and stringing wire will be very educational for you." "But Walter—" "Not another word," Walter said sternly. "You have some serious amends to make, gentlemen, and you know it. My advice is to take this experience and learn as much as you can from it. You will be on time and you will work hard. You will be polite, courteous and obedient. Is that understood?" Alex and Fox looked down miserably. "Yes, Walter." Walter sat down on the edge of the bed. "Good," he said softly. "I know you'll do your best." "Walter?" Alex said hesitantly. "I...I have to tell you something." "Do you want me to go?" Fox asked. "No," Alex answered, grabbing Fox's hand. "Please stay." Fox nodded, moving closer to Alex for moral support. "What is it, Alex?" Walter asked, concerned by the distress on Alex's face. "When you left this morning...when you went for a walk," Alex began, not looking at Walter, "I was...I was worried." "Worried about what, Alex?" Walter prompted. He felt he knew what Alex wanted to say, but felt it was important for Alex to say it himself. "I was worried you...that we made you so mad that you...wouldn't want to come back," Alex said softly. "I'm sorry." He closed his eyes, mortified at what he had said, unable to look at the pain that must surely be on Walter's face. Walter's hand gently tilted his face upward. Alex opened his eyes and looked into warm brown eyes, shining with love and understanding. "I'm glad you told me that, Alex," Walter said gently. "It's important that we're honest with one another, isn't it?" "Yes," Alex said, rubbing his cheek against Walter's palm, loving the feeling of Walter's skin against his. He sighed. He did feel better for telling Walter the truth. "I'm sorry I worried you, Alex," Walter said, looking into Alex's eyes. "But I hope that you know why I needed to take some time this morning. I just needed some time to calm down and think things through. I did it for you as well as for me. You and Fox trust me to guide you, to give you the boundaries and the discipline you need, and I won't abuse your trust by making decisions in the heat of the moment." "I know, Walter," Alex said, smiling. "I'm sorry I doubted you, even for a second. I know you'd never leave us, no matter what." "You're right about that," Walter said, enfolding Alex in a bear hug. "I have everything I want in the world right here." End Happy Birthday Ursula! Lorelei633@aol.com

Title: Recipe for Trouble Author: Lorelei Pairing: Skinner/Mulder/Krycek Rating: NC-17 for spanking, discipline, language, m/m interaction. If you're underage in your neck of the woods, hit the bricks, kid. Spoilers: None Disclaimer: The characters of Walter Skinner, Fox Mulder and Alex Krycek are the property of Fox and 1013 Productions. All OCs in this story are my creations and belong to me. Warnings: This is a discipline story. If spanking and other forms of domestic discipline are not your thing, your Tupperware parties must not be any fun at all! Go and read something else, dear. Status: New/Series. Part of the Christmas Trilogy Universe. Follows Learning the Limits. Archive: Full House, SKSA, Basement, RatB, anyone else please ask. Feedback: Yes, please. Lorelei633@aol.com Thanks: To Elizabeth, for repeated readings, input and cheerleading. To Josan, as always, my teacher and friend, for wise and wonderful beta on short notice, and to Ursula, fairy godmother, mentor, and extremely patient birthday girl. Summary: Nope! Ain't tellin'! <g> Dedication: To Ursula, a late birthday gift. Author's Note: See, Gaby? I finally finished it! Author's Other Note: Alex has two arms. back to top

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