Part 2

“Alex,” he said softly. Krycek came quickly, his green eyes eager, and full of something akin to devotion. Skinner tipped Krycek’s chin up, and kissed him firmly on the lips. Krycek froze for a moment, as if stunned, and then he hung against Skinner’s body, warm and willing. His lips opened, and he returned the kiss with some passion. Skinner wrapped his arms around the other man and held him close, kissing him thoroughly. Finally he released him. “It’s over. All is forgiven,” he said softly. “We’re back to normal. Why don’t you go and get dressed?”

“Yes, sir.” Krycek nodded, and Skinner pulled him back with a frown.

“Walter,” he corrected. Krycek looked surprised, and then laughed as he realised that he had still been in ‘punishment’ mode.

“Walter,” he said, with a nod before disappearing upstairs.

Skinner then turned back to Mulder.

“Here, Fox,” he said softly. He rarely called Mulder by his first name, but he had found that after a spanking it seemed to soothe his lover. Mulder came haltingly, eyes down, as if ashamed of himself, or fearing further punishment. His cock, Skinner noted, was still semi-erect. Skinner sat down on the couch and patted his knee. Krycek always needed to disappear after punishment, and compose himself. Skinner knew that when his younger lover returned he would need to be near, but not touching. He wouldn’t accept caresses or cuddles. Mulder, on the other hand, needed reassurance following a spanking, and, while normally he wasn’t remotely tactile, after a spanking he seemed to crave physical contact. Skinner often wondered whether spankings didn’t allow Mulder to get certain things that he couldn’t ask for – and which he was maybe even a little ashamed of wanting. He remembered his lover telling him once about how his father had never hugged him – how they had shaken hands whenever they had met, instead of embracing, and how he had hated that. Nonetheless, the inhibition remained and it was only following a spanking that Mulder allowed himself to accept those hugs he had wanted from his father.

Mulder crawled onto the couch next to him, and buried his face in Skinner’s lap, and Skinner gently entwined his fingers in the younger man’s hair, stroking softly.

“’Love you,” Mulder muttered, his face turning a shade almost as red as his butt. Skinner gave a wry chuckle. Mulder was hopeless at expressing his emotions. It was usually only following a spanking that Skinner ever felt he got close to the inner Mulder – the one curled up tightly within, hidden by the outer layers of bravado, determination, and outrageous ability and intuition.

“I love you too, Fox.” He combed Mulder’s hair assiduously with his fingers, and Mulder relaxed into his body like a contented cat. Twenty minutes later Alex reappeared. He was dressed in sweats and a tee shirt, and there was absolutely nothing in his demeanour to suggest that he had just been punished. Unlike Mulder, he showed no visible after-effects – he wasn’t even walking stiffly.

“I’ll make dinner,” he said, pouring Skinner a glass of whisky, and handing it to him. Skinner smiled, and took a grateful sip. Krycek would hover, anxious to please, and Mulder would be like a puppy wanting constant affection, and physical closeness, and that was the way they’d all be until tomorrow morning and probably for the next few days as well. He rubbed his head wearily. It wasn’t that he minded, just that sometimes he needed some space for him. There was all that work piling up at the office, and he was here, sorting out this domestic crisis. He felt as if he was spread too thinly. There was too little of him. Maybe having two lovers and living all together like this was impossible. Maybe he had been naïve to even think it could work.

The evening passed exactly as he had predicted. When they retired to their enormous Emperor sized bed, Skinner in the middle as usual, Mulder insisted on curling up with his back to Skinner’s chest, his hot buttocks warming Skinner’s groin, while Krycek, as Skinner had known he would, as he always did following a spanking, turned his back on both of them, his own butt resting lightly against Skinner’s. The big man was worried that Krycek wasn’t getting any reassurance, but the younger man genuinely didn’t seem to require it, and it wasn’t exactly something you could force on someone. Something wasn’t right though – Skinner could sense it. Usually after a spanking, Mulder and Krycek were affectionate with each other, but on this occasion they were avoiding each other, and he suspected that he knew why. For a start Mulder had been angry to share his punishment time with Krycek, and even angrier when he had heard the details of why Krycek was being punished, but there was more to it than that and Skinner was too tired to figure out what.

Skinner stayed awake worrying about all these issues long after the other men’s breathing had deepened into the smooth, mellow tones of sleep. They were all woken at 3 am by Skinner’s cell phone. He slid out of the bed, and answered the call, and his two lovers turned over and went back to sleep. It was the office calling him in because of a crisis hostage situation that had arisen, with sensitive political overtones. Skinner got dressed, left a note for his lovers, and then went to the office. The hostage situation was tense, and he spent the next four hours on the phone directing operations, and putting contingency plans into place. It was almost an anti-climax when the kidnapper released the hostages and gave himself up. By then it was gone 7 o’ clock and Skinner felt badly in need of a shave and a shower. He returned to the house, let himself in, and ran upstairs to the bedroom. The bed was empty, but he could hear the shower running in the en suite bathroom…over which also came the sound of raised voices.

“Well if you hadn’t been fucking trying to follow me…” Mulder’s voice.

“I wasn’t following you. I was trying to prove your stupid, shithead ideas wrong once and for all, and look where that fucking got me.” Krycek, sounding deeply pissed off.

“It got you what you deserved. Christ, this was none of your business.”

“You whining on about it for days made it my business. You can be such a fucking boring bastard, Mulder.”

Skinner sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose wearily. He could do without this right now.

“You should just watch yourself brown-nosing Walter the whole time at the office – now that’s fucking boring. ‘Yes, sir, no sir, tan my ass for me please, sir,’” Mulder mimicked.

“Well at least I don’t fucking get off on having my ass tanned – unlike some perverts!”

There was silence, and Skinner winced, waiting for what would inevitably come next… and sure enough, two seconds later he heard the sound of a fist making solid contact with flesh. He strode to the door, and had his hand on the knob when his cell phone started to ring. Ignoring it, he wrenched open the door, and found himself enveloped in a cloud of steam that fogged up his glasses making it virtually impossible to see the fighting men. He used the sounds of grunts and bellows to locate them, grabbed an arm in one hand and the scruff of a neck in the other, and shook hard. His cell phone continued to ring insistently as he pushed one of his lovers – he didn’t know which one – under the shower, and turned it to cold, while he dragged the other – it turned out to be Krycek – back into the bedroom.

“You can damn well stay in there until you cool down, Mulder!” he shouted back into the bathroom, while he deposited a wet, bleeding Krycek on the bed. “And you, Mister, can stay right there,” he growled. The brief blaze of defiance in Krycek’s eyes flared and died, being replaced by his usual expressionless mask. Unable to ignore his cell phone any more, Skinner reached into his pocket and pulled it out, with jerky, angry movements.

“Sir?” Scully’s voice. “Sorry to call you back to the office so soon, sir, but we’ve had the press clamouring for a statement. I didn’t want to put out anything you hadn’t approved.”

“That’s fine, Scully. Just prepare something – I’ll be back soon.” Skinner turned, just in time to see a cold, dripping Mulder emerge from the bathroom, spitting venom at the top of his voice. “No – scratch that, Scully. Look, I trust you…just do whatever’s necessary. I…I resign.” He terminated the call, and stared at his two wet, sulky lovers who were staring back at him, open-mouthed.

“Resign?” Mulder looked shocked. “You can’t do that. Not because of this. Not because of us.” Skinner narrowed his eyes, and Mulder paled, and took a step back.

“You are not going to fucking well puni…” Mulder began. Skinner quelled the rest of that sentence with a glare.

“No,” he said. “I’m not.” Suddenly it all seemed so clear to him. He turned on his heel, struggling to breathe against the combination of the steam wafting out from the bathroom and his own emotions choking him, and walked stiffly out of the bedroom without saying another word.

Skinner ran down the stairs, and out of the house, slamming his car door shut behind him with a resounding bang. He reversed the jeep loudly out of the driveway, amid the sound of screeching tyres and then took off – to where he neither knew nor cared, just that he had to be anywhere but here.

He suddenly realised after fifteen minutes that he was driving alongside the Potomac – and up ahead there was a diversion while something was being fished from the river. As he drew closer he saw that the item being pulled from the water was a car, and his blood pressure spiked instantly. He got out of his jeep, and strode across to watch the operation. Sure enough, the car was standard Bureau issue – it belonged to Alex. He was sick to the pit of his stomach when he surveyed the tyre prints on the road. Christ, his lover must have been so close to death and all because of his stupid rivalry, or whatever it was, with Mulder. Skinner’s head was pounding, his stomach was reminding him that it hadn’t been fed in hours, and he hadn’t slept in a long time either. Just as the battered car was landed on firm ground, with a deluge of water pouring out of it, his cell phone chose that precise moment to ring.

“Shut the fuck up!” Skinner yelled. A few people turned and looked at him curiously, and he clenched his fists. “Shit, can’t I get any peace,” Skinner growled under his breath. He took out his cell phone, and glared at it, full of loathing, and then some demon inside took over. He found himself pulling back his arm and throwing the cell phone high, and far, straight towards the river. It was a good throw – and it felt so satisfying to see the still ringing cell phone disappear into the depths of the water with a resounding splash. Skinner felt as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He was free. He had liberated himself from all his responsibilities with one act.

Skinner got back in his car, whistling to himself. He was free and he was going to drive out onto the open road and see where it took him. Rolling his shoulders experimentally, Skinner steered his car back onto the main road, a wide smile on his face.

He drove for hours, stopping only to refuel and grab a sandwich. He loved being out on the open road, listening to songs from his youth on the radio, singing along, without a care in the world.

“Just like playing hooky from school!” He grinned to himself. Except for the fact he had only played hooky once, after being talked into it by his wild best friend, Danny Wallace, and the consequences of that had served to remind him never to do it again. He pushed that little piece of reality to the back of his mind, turned the radio up, and began singing along to Queen’s ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ in a deep, and not entirely unpleasing baritone.

“‘I see a little silhouetto of a man…Scaramouche, Scaramouche will you do the fandago? Thunderbolt and lightening, very very frightening dream.’ What the hell were you on when you wrote these lyrics, Freddie? ‘Let me go, let me go…we will not…Miss Miller no!’” He mis-quoted happily. “Miss Miller? I mean what the hell’s that about? ‘We will not let you go…duh duh duh duh duh duh duh!’ Now the big rock crescendo.” Skinner bounced up and down happily in the car in time to the music. “Nothing really matters…anyone can see…nothing really matters…’ shit can’t quite reach that note… ‘nothing really matters…to me.’ Y’know, that just about sums up how I feel – Freddie Mercury you’re a genius.” Skinner gave a contented sigh, and then looked around, wondering where the hell he was.

A few seconds later he passed a road sign bearing the legend “Welcome to Little Oak.” Little Oak; his hometown – where he had spent his childhood. Strange that he had been drawn back here. It was dark now, and he was tired from driving all day. He felt his eyes begin to droop, and then came to with a start of surprise, swerving to avoid a deer he saw only at the last minute, its eyes big and surprised in his car headlights. The deer cantered off safely, but Skinner’s car crashed off the road and into a tree trunk. He sat, dazed for a few minutes, but he was unharmed save for a cut on his hand. He shook off the blood and got out his handkerchief to wrap it around the hand, and then reached for his cell phone…only to discover, with a curse, that it wasn’t there. Now it somehow didn’t seem such a good idea to have thrown it in the river. He managed to kick the battered car door open, and stood for a moment, looking around. It was a good walk into town and he was tired. He remembered that there was a cabin, an old boyhood haunt, completely hidden from the road by all the trees, and decided to rest up there until morning. Sure enough, the cabin was still there – it was a longer walk than he remembered, and for a while he had begun to worry that it had burned down, or his memory was faulty, but he’d finally stumbled upon it. It was empty, and cold, but Skinner was too tired to care. He lay down on the wooden floor, and was asleep with minutes.

When he came to he was stiff, and cold – and starving hungry. It took him a moment to figure out where he was but then the memories came flooding back, making him wince. Oh shit, what the hell had he been thinking? And yet…and yet he didn’t want to go back home just yet. He got up, every muscle in his body protesting, and walked out into the sunlight. Maybe he could get the car to work well enough to take him into town. He walked through the trees, savouring the sweet, fresh, clean air, and then stopped – his car had gone. He was sure this was where he had crashed. He stood, rubbing his head, and looking around, trying to figure out what the hell was happening. His hand throbbed, and there was blood on his shirt. A cursory examination of a paint marked tree confirmed that this had been where he had crashed. Damn, the police must have already removed the vehicle.

With a sigh, Skinner set off on the road into town. Somehow, his freedom was turning out to be a lot less fun than he had imagined. He was missing his two lovers, damnit! He was even missing his job. He remembered lying in bed, his hands full of two gorgeous young men who loved him, and his eyes misted over momentarily.

“Fuck it!” He blinked in a very determined way and the misting stopped. His usual obstinacy kicked in. He had no intention of going back. He had made a decision and he damn well stuck to his decisions. He walked wearily along the road, lost in a haze of misery combined with determination, when a voice permeated his consciousness.

“Walter Skinner? I’d know that face anywhere! My goodness! Walter Skinner after all these years!” He turned, to see a doughty little old lady striding down her garden path, waving at him.

“Ma’am?” He frowned, gazing at her as she came closer. He felt as if he was in some kind of surreal movie. Everything seemed hazy, and strange. Was this really his life?

“Hilda Stebbings!” The lady announced. “Mrs Stebbings,” she amended, as he gave her a bemused frown. “Your fourth grade teacher,” she added. He stared at her, the past flooding back in.

“Mrs Stebbings? My god, is it you?”

“Yes it is, and watch your language, Walter Skinner,” she chided, with a smile. “My goodness you’re in a state. Come in, come in, don’t dawdle.” She opened the gate for him, and he stepped inside, as if in a dream. He followed her obediently up the garden path and into her neat little house.

“I was just sitting outside in the sun, and I had no idea what was going to walk past…my goodness!” She kept up a little running commentary. “Sit down…I’ll bring you some lemonade and cookies. You always did like my lemonade and cookies as I recall. I remember you, every summer out playing in the woods with that naughty Danny Wallace and that other boy, what was his name? The lad who didn’t fit in?”

“Ricky Parry,” Skinner said absently, downing his lemonade in one gulp.

“Ah, yes, dear Ricky. I wonder what happened to him?”

“He got knifed in a bar in 1982. I went to the funeral.” Skinner ate a cookie so quickly he barely tasted it.

“Hmm, hungry and thirsty – what kind of mischief have you been up to, to get into such a state, young Walter Skinner?” Mrs Stebbings asked, noticing his bandaged hand and shaking her head sorrowfully.

Mischief? Skinner felt as if he were 10 years old again.

“I…uh…crashed my car,” he sighed.

“Oh I know all about that.” She opened a cupboard and pulled out a box containing various bandages and plasters.

“You do?” He frowned, wincing as she gently took hold of his hand and examined the damage.

“Reminds me of the old days. You were always scraping your knees, and my house was always the closest when you boys needed someone to help. Hold still. I’ll just wash the dirt away.” She carefully cleaned and dressed the cut, and he smiled at her. He remembered her very well now. She had been a lot younger back then, although, in the manner of children, he had always thought her very old. Despite her advancing years, she still had that spark of mischief in her eyes that had always endeared her to the children she taught.

“Now, Walter Skinner, I want you to tell me what on earth is going on, and no lies now.” She waggled her finger in front of his face. “I always did know when you were lying, Walter,” she added with a knowing look.

“Really, Ma’am, there’s nothing going on. I just crashed my car. That’s all.” He coloured slightly, and she sat back in her chair and gave him a speculative look. He took another cookie to hide his embarrassment at being subject to this much scrutiny.

“Walter, I had a visit from two very nice young men a few hours ago. Now, if you don’t want me to call them I suggest that you start talking,” she said in a firm voice.

“Two young…?” Skinner frowned.

“Yes, dear, and don’t talk with your mouth full.” She patted his hand reprovingly. “Those nice young men who saved us all recently – the ones who were always in the news, along with you, dear. We were very proud of you, you know.” She smiled at him, and he felt an absurd wave of pride.

“I was just doing my job,” he muttered.

“Nonsense, dear. We all know what you young men did for us. It was lovely seeing them in person. Such nice looking boys – and so worried about you.”

“Worried about me?” Skinner felt a pang in his chest.

“Yes, dear. Very worried. I sat them down, gave them lemonade and cookies – they seemed like the sort of boys who would appreciate home cooking. One of them asked me a lot of questions…the one with the nose.”

“That would be Mulder.”

“That’s right. I do know his name, but I’m getting old and people look so different on the television don’t they? Anyway, he was asking a lot of questions – couldn’t sit still, and kept on and on and on with his questions. Very insistent, and very fidgety.”

“That sounds like Mulder.” Skinner gave a wry smile.

“While the other one sat very still indeed. He looked around every inch of the room though. Nothing gets past that one does it? Very green eyes. Still waters run deep I always say. There are a lot of things going on under the surface of that one.”

“Yes, Ma’am. That’s about right.” Skinner suddenly felt very lonely. “That would be Alex.” He savoured saying his lovers’ names, aware of just how much he missed them both.

“Well, they were worried about you because they’d found your car, and of course there was all that blood, and they were beside themselves. Oh, they didn’t say as much, but I know boys!” She gave a little laugh. “I always knew how you and your friends were feeling didn’t I?” She said, patting him again. He smiled, recalling those long summer days spent in the woods, playing near the cabin, and then visiting Mrs Stebbings on their way home for cookies and lemonade. “What’s the matter, Walter?” She asked him softly, her blue eyes shining perceptively. He sighed.

“I did something I shouldn’t have done, Ma’am,” he replied, examining his fingernails in detail. “I, uh, walked out on my job, and my friends. I’ve let people down.”

“Nonsense. I’ve never known you let anyone down in your life!” She exclaimed. “What I do remember is that you always took too much upon yourself. Like the time you took the blame for something that naughty Danny Wallace did, and ended up being punished by the Principal right alongside Danny.”

“I remember that.” Skinner winced. The Principal had been possessed of a mightily strong right arm. “I couldn’t let Danny take all the blame for that though – I should have stopped him.”

“People make their own decisions, dear.” Mrs Stebbings smiled at him fondly. “One of the things I loved about you, Walter, was the way you always took the side of the underdog. Like poor Ricky. He was from the wrong side of the tracks, and nobody gave him the time of day, but you saw something in him – something good. I remember that you took him under your wing, and let him play with you and Danny. You’re a good boy, Walter; always have been, always will be. You just need to loosen up a little, and stop taking responsibility for everything.”

“I’m the Director of the FBI. That’s easier said than done,” Skinner muttered.

“Well, that’s not the only reason why you’re out here, looking such a mess, is it?” Mrs Stebbings chided gently.

“You mentioned your friends as well as your job. I’m assuming you were referring to Alex and Mulder?”

“Yes, Ma’am.” He tried to straighten his stiff back. There was something about Mrs Stebbings that made you want to sit up straight.

“They reminded me a lot of Danny and Ricky. You always did take the waifs and strays under your wing, Walter.”

Oh shit, she’s right, Skinner thought to himself. Why was he always attracted to the bad boys? Did he get some perverse satisfaction from being in charge of them, and taking care of them? Or was it that he could always see the good in them when others couldn’t? Or maybe a combination of the two.

“The world won’t stop turning without you, dear,” Mrs Stebbings said softly. “But two young people will be very unhappy if you don’t go home soon. Yes?”

He stared at her blankly, his eyes misting again. “Yes, Ma’am,” he whispered.

“Good boy. I’ll bring you the phone then and you can call them to come and collect you. I know they’re going to be very, very happy that you’re safe and well. They really were out of their minds with worry.”

“I’m don’t know, Ma’am,” he said softly. “I left for a reason. Maybe it would be better if I just stayed away. They might be better off without me.”

“Walter, nobody said it would be easy,” Mrs Stebbings fixed him with a stern look. “I remember a time when you went very quiet for several days. Something was clearly gnawing at you but you wouldn’t say what. Finally, I sat you down and made you talk, and it was all about some piece of mischief you’d been up to – I forget what now. You felt a lot better for talking about it and addressing the issue as I recall.”

“I’m not sure my butt would agree – I seem to recall that ‘addressing the issue’ entailed owning up to the Principal about what I’d done,” Skinner sighed.

“But you can’t deny you felt better afterwards?” Mrs Stebbings pressed.

“No, Ma’am, but this is different. There are too many problems – and besides, I need to be strong for…” He trailed off, and shrugged.

“You can’t take responsibility for everyone, Walter. Sometimes you must trust the people you love to not only take care of themselves – but to take care of you, also. Yes?” Skinner examined his shoes in minute detail, but finally he had no choice but to lift his gaze to meet Mrs Stebbings’ blue eyes.

“Yes, Ma’am,” he sighed wearily. She handed him the phone, and he took it, with a grateful smile.

“I hope they deserve to have you looking out for them,” she murmured, as he dialled Krycek’s cell phone number. “I really hope they do, Walter Skinner.”

Krycek hung onto the car seat for grim life as Mulder did a spectacular U-turn and drove them back to Little Oak at top speed. For once, he refrained from commenting on Mulder’s driving – he wanted to reach Skinner as quickly as his lover. The big man might only have been missing for a day, but Krycek was nursing a feeling of sick, empty loss that had eaten away at his usual expressionless mask. He and Mulder had joined together to search for their missing lover, and they had discovered that when they co-operated they actually made a pretty unbeatable team. They each had skills that complemented the other. Mulder’s dogged questioning and flights of brilliance were matched by Krycek’s eye for detail, and ability to look over every single painstaking fact, leaving no stone unturned. When they had found Skinner’s crashed car, both of them had thought the worst. Krycek had gone cold inside – supposing this had been some kind of Consortium plot? He knew, rationally, that the Consortium had been destroyed, but maybe there was a maverick out there they hadn’t caught – a sniper who had just been biding his time, waiting to get Skinner on his own. When Krycek had heard Skinner’s voice the nagging, gnawing emptiness inside had dissipated immediately, to be replaced by a quiet warmth. Walter is okay. Walter is okay. Walter is okay. He couldn’t stop repeating the words over and over again in his head as they drove back towards Little Oak. He glanced at Mulder, who gave him a tentative smile.

“Walter’s okay,” Mulder said out loud, his smile widening. Krycek opened his mouth in surprise, and then shook his head.

“Yes,” he said, smiling quietly to himself. “Yes, he is.”

They pulled up outside Mrs Stebbings’ house, and were barely out of the car when Skinner appeared, hesitantly, in the doorway. Mulder stopped, a lump rising in his throat. Skinner’s clothes were torn, and his hand was bandaged. There was blood on his shirt, and he looked tired beyond belief – but at least he was alive.

“Walter.” He couldn’t stop himself. He ran up the path, and enveloped the big man in a hug, before shaking him soundly. “We were so damn worried about you! Christ, Walter, you have no idea!” He was aware of Krycek at his elbow, standing as silently as ever, waiting his turn.

“Actually, I do.” Skinner made a face and Mulder had the grace to flush. Krycek stepped forward, and kissed Skinner on both cheeks, in typical Russian style. Mulder stood there, still floored by Skinner’s wry, weary comment. Of course Skinner knew what it felt like. How many times had he gone through this when Mulder had been missing? How well he must know that sick, empty feeling in the pit of the stomach.

“Not now,” Krycek murmured softly. “Now we will take him home.”

Mulder watched as Skinner turned, and enveloped the tiny, white haired Mrs Stebbings in a giant hug.

“Goodbye, and, uh, thanks…” Skinner whispered. “For everything.”

“You’re welcome, dear.” She patted his cheek affectionately. “And next time don’t leave it so long before coming home.”

“No, Ma’am!” Skinner grinned, and followed Mulder and Krycek back to the car.

“We found the car,” Mulder babbled, needing to talk about the whole drama.

“I crashed. I…I was too tired to be driving. Fell asleep behind the wheel then swerved to avoid a deer at the last minute,” Skinner admitted, flushing slightly.

“We searched and searched but…”

“I was in a cabin. In the woods. It’s hard to find.” Skinner shrugged.

“We tried calling…”

“I threw my cell phone in the river,” Skinner admitted sheepishly. He opened the back door of the car, slumped inside, and when he looked up at his two lovers there was a pained expression on his face. Mulder was suddenly aware of the significance of what the big man was telling them. He had punished both of them, not 48 hours previously, for writing off a car, and losing a cell phone – among other things. Mulder swallowed hard, and looked at Krycek.

“Not now,” Krycek said again, in that same soft tone. “Get in the car, Mulder. You can drive. I’ll take care of the big guy.” He went around to the other side of the car, and slid in beside Skinner, leaving Mulder staring at the younger man with an expression of surprise on his face. He would never have imagined that Krycek of all people would rise to this occasion with such authority. “Let’s go home,” Krycek urged, in that same soft voice, as Mulder got into the car.

Skinner sat, gazing numbly out of the window. He barely even noticed Mulder start the engine, and begin to pull away.

“It’s been quite a day for you,” Krycek said, in a low voice. A day? Was that all it had been? One day of freedom? Skinner suddenly felt utterly exhausted and wiped out. His hand was throbbing, and his whole body ached. He closed his eyes, desperately wanting to sleep, and a few seconds later a hand came to rest on his shoulder, and pulled his head gently but firmly onto a denim-covered lap. Fingers tenderly stroked his head, soothing him, and he looked up into a pair of compelling green eyes.

“Sleep,” Krycek ordered, and Skinner closed his eyes and did just that.

It was dark when they got home. Krycek locked up the car, while Mulder helped the weary Skinner back into the house. Skinner was hungry, and still desperately tired, but he was aware that they had matters to address, so he walked purposefully into the living room, squaring his shoulders as he went. He had always made it perfectly clear to his two lovers that their rules applied to all of them – he would never have used corporal punishment on them under any other circumstances. That didn’t make this moment any easier though. He took a deep breath, and then turned to face Mulder wondering what would happen next. Usually he was the one who always took charge, but he didn’t think it was appropriate for him to direct his own punishment. Mulder gazed back at him, uncertainly. With a weary sigh, Skinner realized that his lover was still looking to him to be in charge. Krycek followed them into the room a second later, his green eyes as calm and impassive as ever.

“Look…I know I screwed up,” Skinner murmured tiredly. “And the rules apply to each of us equally, so that means…” He shrugged. “Well, you know what it means.” Mulder had a look akin to abject horror on his face that would have been comical in other circumstances.

“Yes, we do know,” Krycek said. “But it can wait. You’re tired, and in no condition to do anything else except go to bed. We’ll talk again after breakfast tomorrow.”

Mulder nodded, casting Krycek a look of relief.

“What about the office? I need to call Scully.” Skinner moved wearily across the room towards the telephone. So many responsibilities, and he was so tired. He swayed and reached out for support.

“That’s all taken care of,” Krycek said smoothly, grabbing Skinner’s arm and swinging it over his own shoulder as Skinner’s legs began to give way. “Scully is more than capable of taking care of the FBI for a few days – in fact I think she gets off on the power.” His lips quirked at the corner and Skinner had to laugh out loud. Krycek’s sly sense of humour always surfaced at the most unusual moments, often taking him by delighted surprise. Mulder took hold of his other arm, and he allowed the two men to lead him up to the bedroom, and push him onto the bed, but protested when Krycek knelt and began undoing his shoes.

“I can do that,” he snapped.

“I know, but on this occasion you will allow us.” Krycek looked up at him, his expression thoughtful. Mulder undid Skinner’s collar and began unbuttoning his shirt, and Skinner flushed feeling like a child.

“I can…” he began again.

Mulder silenced him by placing a finger over his mouth. “Let us take care of you,” he said softly, glancing at Krycek, who nodded. “You always take care of us. Now it’s our turn.” Skinner swallowed hard, and submitted to being undressed, and rolled under the sheets. He closed his eyes and felt two sets of lips press against his forehead before he fell asleep once more.

“I can’t believe how close we came to losing him.” Mulder sat down beside Skinner, and stroked the sleeping man’s cheek tenderly.

“I know.” Krycek didn’t move. He was gazing at Skinner as if he thought that their lover would disappear again.

“You really find out how you feel about someone when something like this happens,” Mulder commented. Krycek closed his eyes momentarily, and then nodded. “It’s my fault,” Mulder said with a sigh. “I kept pushing him. I always needed…needed…I’m not sure I understand it but I needed his attention on some level. I was insatiable. It was too much for the poor bastard.”

“It was as much my fault as yours.” Krycek shrugged.

“Is he serious?” Mulder glanced at Krycek over Skinner’s sleeping head. “All that stuff about the rules?”

Krycek nodded. “Yes, he is serious – he’s a fair man, Mulder. Scrupulously fair in fact. He expects this…no…I think he needs it on some level. The question is – can you do it for him.” He looked at Mulder expectantly.

“Me?” Mulder whispered. “Why does it have to be me?”

“Because it does.” Krycek’s green eyes were implacable. “Because he trusts you.”

“He trusts you!” Mulder protested.

“Yes.” Krycek bowed his head. “But the difference is that I don’t deserve his trust. You do.”

“Bullshit.” Mulder shook his head vehemently. “He doesn’t think that way and neither do I, Alex.”

“I know, which is also why it has to be you.” Krycek gave a twisted, sad little smile.

“Why not you?” Mulder asked, puzzled.

“Because of what I once did to him. I caused him great pain. I made a vow I’d never hurt him again – ever,” Krycek said, “whatever the circumstances. And I will stick to it. But he needs this, and he needs it to be you who does this for him. You understand it better than me for a start. There is something…the two of you have shared some understanding of this for a long time, even before you made it a physical reality. For me, punishment is just…painful. For you two, it is intimate. I’ve always envied you that.”

Mulder stared at Krycek, his mouth open in wordless surprise. He knew that his lover was referring to the incident with the nanocytes but there was something in Krycek’s eyes that forestalled any attempt Mulder might have made to argue with himon the subject. “All right,” Mulder said at last, nodding. “I’ll do it. Shit, do you think he always hated it this much as well?”

“Probably.” Krycek shrugged. “Let’s go downstairs, Mulder. We need to talk about this properly. Tomorrow, when it happens, you must get it right. We have to talk about how you achieve that. It’s the least we owe him.”

“Yes.” Mulder took a deep breath. “Yes.” He deposited another kiss on his lover’s cheek, and then followed his other lover downstairs.

Skinner woke feeling refreshed. He turned over, and felt for his lovers, relishing the fact that he was back home, and in their huge bed, but, to his disappointment, found that he was alone. The smell of breakfast wafting up from downstairs reassured him, and, glancing at the clock, he realised in some surprise that it was nearly 10 am. He got up, took a shower, washing away all the grime from the past couple of days, and shaved. Finally, feeling 100% better now that he was clean again, he reached for his jeans…and then stopped. Somehow, he thought that sweats might be a better choice. He pulled them on with a determined grimace, wondering what the hell was going to happen next. One thing was for sure – something had to give. None of them could continue the way they had been. He pulled on a tee shirt and went down to face his punishment. He wondered what the strange sensation in his stomach was as he trotted down the stairs, and thought at first that he was just hungry, before realising in surprise that they were butterflies, and that he was intensely nervous about what would happen.

Mulder was reading the paper at the dining table, while Alex fixed breakfast – they had early on banned Mulder from going anywhere near the kitchen if food was involved, and he was now relegated to washing up duty only. He got up as soon as Skinner came down, and looked as if he was about to bound into the other man’s arms like an overexcited puppy – but then stopped himself.

“Come here,” he said softly instead, opening his arms wide. Skinner went, and Mulder pulled him into a hug.

“It’s good to see you back where you belong, big guy,” Mulder said, depositing a kiss on Skinner’s face and then guiding him to sit at the table. Krycek came out, and put a plate piled with pancakes on the table, pausing to brush a slightly stubbled cheek against Skinner’s face as he did so.

“I’m being spoiled.” Skinner grinned.

“No, we’re just fattening you up before we eat you.” Mulder waggled his eyebrows suggestively and they all laughed as that broke the tension.

Skinner was ravenous and ate his way through third, fourth and fifth helpings before he was finally satisfied. Finally, he pushed his plate back with a sigh, and thanked Krycek for the meal. Krycek and Mulder looked up, and exchanged a glance, and Skinner felt those butterflies play havoc with his now full stomach.

“I guess we need to talk,” Skinner murmured.

“We sure do.” Mulder folded up his paper. “And we will, but first we’re going to proceed with your punishment. Understood?”

Skinner frowned. He had never seen Mulder like this before. He seemed…so self-assured, and in control. It was puzzling, but also a relief. Skinner nodded, feeling his face flush. It was so damn humiliating being in this position when he was usually the one handing it out, not receiving it.

“Okay. I want you to go and find Alex’s hairbrush, and bring it back here.”

Skinner nodded again, feeling hazy, and lost. Was this really happening?

“Now, Walter,” Mulder said firmly, jerking him out of his reverie. He nodded again and ran back up the bedroom, his heart thudding inside his chest. Christ, he was too old for this…and yet he was dimly aware that it was effective. He both dreaded and welcomed the coming punishment and was keenly aware of how being made to bring the implement that would shortly turn his backside a shade of bright red added to the whole ordeal. He had never understood just how much before, because he’d only ever been the one handing it out. He found Alex’s hairbrush, and shuddered as he surveyed the smooth, flat-backed, tortoiseshell patterned surface. Alex treasured this particular item – it was the only thing he had left from his Russian grandmother and while it was a beautifully crafted hairbrush, it also made a highly effective paddle. Skinner had always liked the way it landed with a resounding crack, and the pleasing red imprint it made on a hapless bottom.

“Hoist by your own petard, Walt,” he murmured to himself, retrieving the hairbrush and trotting back down the stairs. Mulder was waiting for him in the living room, by the couch, and Alex was lurking somewhere by the wall.

“Bring it here and hand it to me,” Mulder commanded. Skinner did as he had been told, his eyes cast down. “Look at me,” Mulder instructed, and Skinner sighed. It sounded as if his lover was really getting into this. He looked up, to find Mulder’s eyes deadly serious – there was no trace of the usual joking, teasing, exasperating Mulder.

“All right. I want you to go and bend over the couch. And, Walter – undress first,” Mulder ordered. Skinner nodded. He had expected this. He took off his sweatpants, and folded them neatly over the back of the armchair along with his tee shirt. “Get in position.” He jumped. He had been so engrossed in his preparations that he hadn’t realised that Mulder had followed him. He swallowed hard, and bent over the back of the couch. A few seconds later the hairbrush was placed on his naked butt, and he winced. It didn’t hurt, but there was something particularly humiliating in the way Mulder was so scrupulously following the ritual that he himself had laid down. “Look at me, and then tell me why you deserve this punishment,” Mulder said in that same firm, unrelenting tone. Skinner took a deep breath. Damn, but why had he never realised how hard it was to talk when you were bare-assed over the back of this couch? He found that his throat was dry and he couldn’t speak. He made a strange sound in the back of his throat and for a brief moment he saw Mulder’s mask slip. His lover glanced anxiously at Alex as if for help. Skinner had almost forgotten that his other lover was there – Alex was, as usual, a quiet, brooding presence in the room, and yet somehow he seemed absolutely central to everything. Krycek moved swiftly into action. He glided silently over to the couch, sat on it, close to Skinner, and gently touched his face.

“Tell him, Walter,” he urged softly.

Skinner swallowed hard and nodded. “I threw my cell phone in the river, and I smashed my car. I…I shouldn’t have been driving because I was too tired. I worried both of you. I was out of phone contact…”

“You risked your life by being behind the wheel of that car in your condition, Walter,” Mulder said softly. “You could have killed someone, or you could have been killed yourself.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“You almost were killed.” Mulder pressed home the point, and Skinner winced. He would have done the same in Mulder’s position but that didn’t make it any easier. “When we saw that blood in the car…when we couldn’t find you…we thought you were dead, Walter.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” Skinner gripped the back of the couch tightly with his hands. He did deserve to be punished. He just hoped Mulder would get it over with – as quickly as possible.

“All right, Walter. You’ve earned yourself 20 with the hairbrush, and 20 with my hand. Understood?”

Skinner nodded. It was, he noted, the same amount he would have given either of them if they’d pulled a stunt like this – maybe a bit more lenient, but in the same ballpark. “Okay, big guy. Hold tight then.” He heard Mulder walk over to him, and then the hairbrush was lifted. Skinner took a sharp intake of breath, and a few seconds later the hairbrush landed agonisingly on his backside. He expelled the breath he had just taken, with a sharp whistle of pain. It had been years since he had been in this position and he’d forgotten just how much it hurt. A second cracking swat was more self-assured and Skinner gave a grunt of pain. He had no intention of crying. He didn’t know why – whether it was a matter of pride, or some stupid, macho marine thing, but he knew that he didn’t want to cry. He also knew, on a subliminal level, that Mulder intended him to cry, and would do his best to make him cry. Seven more hard whacks with the hairbrush tested his resolve to the limit, but still he held on. Mulder had gotten into his stride now, and each swat made his ass sting as if it were on fire. He squeezed his eyes shut, gasping for air, and was surprised to feel fingers on his face.

“Let it out, Walter. It’s just us,” Alex whispered to him.

“Can’t,” Skinner ground out, panting as another swat took his breath away. Mulder stopped.

“That was ten, Walter. How are you holding up?”

“Fine. Just get on with it,” Skinner growled. He heard Mulder give a little snort of laughter.

“Always have to be the big, strong, tough guy, don’t you? Okay, Walter. Hold on then. That was just the warm up. This is where it gets serious. I want you to think about how you risked your life – and how that was unacceptable.”

Unacceptable. Skinner remembered using that word once with Mulder, years ago, when his lover had tried to resign from the FBI. Unacceptable. He tried to focus on Mulder’s injunction about how he had risked his life but the pain in his backside was making rational thought almost impossible. He couldn’t concentrate on anything but how much his ass hurt as Mulder began whacking the hairbrush down in even more deadly earnest than before. Skinner didn’t think it could hurt any more than it already did, but he was wrong. The second set of ten strokes left a vivid impact on his mind as well as his butt – and he made a mental note to himself that if he ever had to punish either of his lovers with this implement again he’d go easy with it. It hurt like hell. He squeezed his eyes shut again, holding back the tears for all he was worth. He wasn’t going to let them see him cry. It didn’t matter that he’d seen both of them cry during punishment. He wasn’t going to. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the onslaught stopped.

“Okay, Walter. Stand up.” Skinner felt strong arms help him to his feet, and then he was enveloped in a hug. “Just the hand spanking now.” Mulder said, holding him tight for a moment, before releasing him, and going around to the other side of the couch. He sat down and gazed at Skinner expectantly. “Now, Walter,” he said in that firm, low voice, when Skinner hesitated. Skinner nodded, and walked slowly around to the other side of the couch. He lowered himself awkwardly over Mulder’s knee, and Mulder rearranged him, taking his time. “We want you to be comfortable – this is going to take a little time. I’m not going to go quickly, Walter. It’ll be slow. And cry if you want to. It doesn’t matter to us.”

“I’ll pass on that if you don’t mind,” Skinner growled, and was rewarded by a light swat on his ass.

“Don’t pull that macho shit with me, Walter. You’re butt up over my knee right now getting the punishment you deserve so watch your manners.”

Skinner bit down on his immediate sarcastic response, deeply impressed by Mulder’s strong, firm demeanour. Finally Mulder managed to manoeuvre him into a position that was comfortable for both of them, and he found his face resting against Alex’s thigh. He relaxed – surely a hand spanking couldn’t be anywhere near as bad as the bite from that vicious hairbrush? He was soon to find that he was wrong about that. His ass was already sensitised by the brush, and Mulder’s swats were hard, and meant business. Worse than that was the humiliation of being over a knee. He couldn’t remember when he had last been in this position. He thought it might have been when he was a kid – a sulky 15 year old hauled over his father’s knee for a thorough spanking. Decades later and he was in the same position. He found that hard to deal with – even harder than the pain. His breath started to come in raw, heaving sobs, and he fought back the tears once more. He was almost winning the battle against his own emotions, lost in a haze of pain, when Alex reached out, and touched his face with the gentlest brush of his fingers.

“It’s all right, Walter,” he said softly. “It’s okay. We’re here…we were so scared when we thought we’d lost you. You should have seen us – we went crazy trying to find you. We love you.”

Those words caused something inside him to break, and the next thing he knew he was sobbing into Alex’s jeans like a child, the tears running freely down his face. He lay there, accepting Mulder’s hard swats without protest, crying his eyes out, and all the while Alex caressed his face with kind, gentle fingers. He barely registered when the spanking was over, just lay there, still weeping silently. Mulder caressed his back for a few minutes, and then shifted him so that he was lying evenly on both their laps, on his side facing them, his head on Alex’s legs. Alex looked at him searchingly, and then dipped his head, and licked the tears from Skinner’s face like a kitten lapping at cream. That one act calmed the big man, and made him feel warm, and complete. He stopped sobbing, and they all lay in a heap on the couch for a long time, lost in their own thoughts. Skinner had to admit that however much his butt hurt, it did feel good to allow himself to be weak, and the centre of attention for once. He could understand why Mulder liked the peace following a spanking so much.

Finally, Alex cleared his throat, and that broke them out of his reverie, and brought them back to the situation.

“All right. Would you like to tell us what Walter Skinner’s Day Off was all about now?” Mulder asked gently, stroking Skinner’s thigh. Alex watched them both quietly, his green eyes never leaving their faces.

“Walter Skinner’s Day Off?” Skinner raised an eyebrow.

“That’s what I’m calling it. It’s like that movie – Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. Only he didn’t get caught and spanked, and you did. Now, talk, Walter. We’re both listening.”

Alex nodded his agreement, and Skinner swallowed hard and began. “I’m sorry for worrying you both,” he said in a low, choking tone. “I…I guess I was angry. I’ve been under a lot of pressure at work, and I could do without the kind of half-assed crap you two pull at home as well. I can’t just keep going…I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m only human. I might not like admitting it, but it’s true.”

Krycek nodded, his green eyes sympathetic. “You’re right, Walter. We weren’t thinking about you. Losing you, if only for a day, made us see how much you do for us…and how lost we’d be without you.”

“Alex is right.” Mulder agreed.

“There’s other stuff we need to talk about as well,” Skinner flushed. “Stuff we should have talked about a long time ago…I should have brought the subject up but, well…” he shrugged. “I guess that talking about how we feel isn’t a strong point for any of us.”

“If it gets to the point where you feel you have to walk out and nearly get killed, then I’d say that’s something we have to overcome,” Mulder said.

Skinner nodded. “All right,” he said, sitting up, gingerly, sliding to the floor in front of them, and trying to kneel with his butt well away from any kind of surface. “Why do you do it? Mulder – what’s with the need to attract my attention? And Alex, why do you always have to react? I know you both care about each other – you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t. So why?” They were silent. Alex glanced away, while Mulder worried at his bottom lip. Skinner sighed. “I’ll tell you what I think – it’s as if you feel safe admitting that you love me, but not each other. You’ve been enemies for too long. But it’s stupid. It’s clear as day to me that you’re both crazy about each other – I see proof of that in the bedroom every night.”

Krycek glanced sideways at Mulder, who was doing his best to look anywhere but at either of his two lovers.

“Mulder,” Skinner said softly. Finally Mulder sighed, and looked back at him.

“Yes, Walter, you’re right. About all of it,” he said at last.

“Alex,” Skinner urged. Krycek gave a strange, almost innocently childlike smile.

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “I guess the sex part was always much easier than the, uh, love part.”

“All right. So maybe you can stop circling each other like wild stallions about to charge and start behaving like you did when you were looking for me? And that means like two men who belong together – and who work well together.”

“I guess.” Krycek shrugged, and glanced at Mulder shyly from under his eyelashes. “Think we can do that, shitface?”

“I think we could try. Ratfeatures.”

“Okay. I’ll take that as a breakthrough,” Skinner commented with a wry grin. “But we also need to address the issue of punishment. I’m not sure I do the right thing when I punish you. Now you’ve experienced that yourselves, maybe you understand.” Skinner sat back on his haunches, gave a grimace of pain, and rocked forward again.

Mulder made a face. “It certainly isn’t easy,” he said. “I’d be lying if I trotted out the old cliché that it hurts me more than you, but it sure as hell isn’t simple.”

“Exactly – and I worry about punishing both of you, but for different reasons. Alex – it’s as if you endure it as the price to be paid for us loving you, and that isn’t the case.” He saw a flicker of bemusement flash into those green eyes.

“I know…I do know that, Walter,” Krycek said softly.

“But do you believe it?” Skinner asked. Krycek thought about it for a moment, and then shook his head.

Skinner sighed. “You have to, Alex, or I’ll have to find another way of punishing you when you screw up. As for you, Mulder, you won’t like me for saying this, but while you shout and scream and give every indication of hating punishment, your physical response tells me a different story.”

“Fuck.” Mulder buried his face in his hands. “It isn’t the spanking, Walter. I hate the fucking spanking,” he said, when he looked up. “It’s the way being spanked makes me feel. It brings us close in a way we just can’t achieve otherwise. It’s always been like this from the moment we met. When you were yelling at me in your office you were showing an interest in me. I liked that feeling. It felt good.”

“And it turns you on?” Skinner asked quietly.

“Kinda.” Mulder bit on his lip again.

“Then why don’t we make it a sex game – without the spanking – or with it on some level if you need that,” Skinner said softly. “Every now and again, when you think you need it, instead of going off on some wild goose chase, just come to me, and ask. Christ, we do all kinds of things in the bedroom, and a daddy/boy game is hardly that kinky.”

“Daddy/boy?” Mulder questioned weakly.

“Isn’t that what you want?” Skinner said. Mulder glanced at Alex, who gave him an encouraging smile. There was no hint of the teasing that usually typified their relationship.

“Yes. I guess so. Damn that’s embarrassing.” Mulder had turned a shade of red almost comparable to Skinner’s butt.

“Hey, it’s okay. Actually, I think it’d be fun,” Skinner grinned. “I like it when you let me get near you, Mulder. I like those rare times when you let me call you ‘Fox’, and allow the barriers to come down.” He pulled Mulder into a hug. “I, uh, quite liked this new Masterful Mulder as well,” he murmured with a wink when he released his lover. “Maybe we could take him out to play occasionally too!”

Mulder grinned, his embarrassment completely forgotten in the face of Skinner’s last admission. At least he wasn’t the only one around here who had a kinky streak. Skininer turned back to his other lover, who, as always, was sitting silently to the side. He beckoned Krycek close, and gazed at him searchingly for such a long time that Krycek finally wilted under the scrutiny.

“And you, Alex, have to understand that you are integral to this relationship, and that you are not on the outside,” Skinner said softly, one hand resting lightly on Krycek’s knee. He looked at Krycek thoughtfully, and then continued. “Maybe next time you screw up I’ll have you spank me instead of me spanking you – I think that might hurt you more, yes?”

“I couldn’t do that,” Krycek replied, aghast.

“Then think about how important you are to us before driving your car into any more rivers.” Skinner gave a grin.

“That’s great coming from someone who drove his into a tree,” Krycek grumbled, smiling. “Seriously, Walter, we’ve talked about me, and Mulder, but we also need to talk about you.”

“Me?” Skinner frowned.

“Yes. When you were missing we realised how much we’d been leaning on you. That isn’t fair. You don’t just exist to take care of us and our needs. No wonder you felt you needed some breathing space from us. In future, you can’t let it get this bad before something snaps. What you did was drastic but necessary. Just because you’re the oldest, to say nothing of being the most reliable and responsible, doesn’t mean that you have to take care of us all the time. You’re entitled to lean on us for support every now and again – and it shouldn’t take a spanking to bring you to the level where you can ask for that.”

“I’m fine. It won’t happen again…” Skinner began but Mulder cut him off.

“No, Walter, it won’t,” he said firmly. “But only because you’ll talk about the stuff that’s going on in your head before it explodes and costs the Bureau a car and a cellphone, and your ass a whipping. Understood?”

Skinner’s jaw dropped open in surprise. “Yes, Mulder,” he said meekly.

“Good. Well, gentlemen, I think we’ve all done pretty well facing up to ourselves today,” Mulder beamed. “I’d suggest a group hug but I wouldn’t want you to kill me. However…perhaps I can ask if we ‘re done here? Because you know, if we are, then seeing Walter kneeling here butt naked, and not having had sex for three days…well, I’m kind of horny.”

“Oh, I think we’re done,” Alex agreed with a grin.

“My butt’s sure as hell done,” Skinner said ruefully. “You did a good job there, Mulder.”

“I learned from the best.”

Mulder leaned forward, pulled Skinner up to face him, and then kissed the other man’s lips. Skinner felt Alex slide behind him, his already hard cock nudging at Skinner’s hot ass through his jeans. A trail of wet kisses down his spine made him shiver, and then he felt hands on his cock, caressing him to full erection.

“You two are overdressed for this party,” Skinner muttered weakly, and Mulder grinned, and slid off the couch and onto his knees.

“No, Walter, this time it’s all about you…just hold still, big guy, and prepare for some hot monkey loving. We missed being able to play with this gorgeous body.”

Skinner’s reply was cut off, when, as if by some unspoken signal, Alex dipped his fingers deep, and probingly into his ass, just as Mulder enveloped his cock in his warm mouth. Skinner gave a hoarse shout as his two lovers efficiently brought him to climax between them, Alex’s fingers working in time to Mulder’s mouth. Then he sank back in Krycek’s arms, with Mulder’s face on his chest, wondering in that moment if he was the luckiest man alive and shuddering to think what he had so nearly given up. He caressed the dark head in front of him, and the arm of the man holding him lovingly from behind.

“Oh, I think they do, Mrs Stebbings,” he murmured, with a satisfied smile. “They really do.”

The End