When you paint a dragon, you paint his scales, not his bones;
when you see a man, you see his face, not his heart.
--- Chinese proverb

Friday, December 21, 2007.

Standing in an almost dark room, Walter Skinner looked out of his hotel window over the twinkling lights of London, watching the almost imperceptible movement of the London Eye revolving in the distance. Even though it was some miles away on the south bank of the River Thames, it still dominated the skyline, drawing the eye with it's circle of twinkling lights. He shifted his gaze to some huge cranes, looming over their part finished buildings, each decorated for Christmas with coloured lights, some even having a Christmas tree sprouting from its boom.

There was a reception going on downstairs, but feeling tired and jaded after crossing the Atlantic only a few days before, then plunging straight into seemingly endless rounds of talk, his mood was sour. They were, however, getting somewhere... slowly. They would be taking an eleven day break over the holiday. The Europeans had indicated that they would be crossing back over the Channel to return to their own countries, perhaps to join their families. The Canadian representative was going to visit some relations from another branch of his family... which left just Walter to kick his heels in London until the conference reconvened on January 2nd.

It wasn't that he was averse to attending an International Police Cooperation Conference. Cooperation was certainly needed in the present climate of unrest and the recent revelations about governments being involved with alien plans to enslave the people of Earth. He was just more used to the local cross border meetings between himself and the Mexican or Canadian Police Chiefs.

At this type of conference it was usually the Deputy Director, or the AD in charge of national security, that would attend. He had a sneaking suspicion that his selection had been on the assumption that as he had no close family with whom to celebrate the holiday, he couldn't have any plans that would be disrupted. The fact that they were right was the real cause of his present mood, and therefore his disinclination to join in the festivities downstairs.

In a quick movement, he drained his glass of scotch, but his quest for another shot from the wet bar was interrupted by someone rapping on the door of his suite. Putting the glass down, he went over to the door and peered through the spy-hole and was surprised to see the conference's host, Sir Richard Chrighton, standing in the corridor.

Skinner quickly opened the door wide, and switched on the main lights. "Good evening, Sir Richard, I was watching the Eye go round.... it's such a different sort of city from Washington...."

Sir Richard nodded. "The very best time is just after sunset, when there is still enough light to see some detail on the buildings.... It's very relaxing watching the light fade and the artificial lights slowly getting brighter, until all you can see for miles around is pinpoints of light."

He cleared his throat, then went on, "My wife, Marianna, whom you met last weekend, has suggested, and I concur, that you should join our household for the holiday. We have a large house, and most of our family, though scattered around the world, will try to make it home, and we always invite a few friends to join us... and... well... We'd be very pleased if you would accept an invitation to stay with us until after the New Year...." He paused, realising he was beginning to ramble, then said simply:
"Will you join us Walter?"

Skinner considered his options, stay here in a luxurious, but sterile suite, or join a member of the aristocracy 'at home'.... the latter won, hands down.

"I should be honoured to accept your invitation, Sir Richard."

The Englishman smiled. "Believe me, the pleasure is all mine, old chap. Now, come down to the party, and I'll have my chauffeur stop here about eleven tomorrow morning for the drive down to Salton Magna."

Walter returned the smile, his mood lightening, as he accepted that he was going to be joining the party in the ballroom and would be a trifle hung over in the morning.

The next morning, promptly at 11 a.m., Walter was advised that Sir Richard's chauffeur was waiting for him in the lobby. He had already arranged for his luggage to be carried down, so all he had to do was lock the door to his suite and take the elevator... he must get used to calling it 'the lift', to the ground floor... not to the first floor, as he had done on the first morning, which had left him one floor above street level.

On reaching the lobby a uniformed chauffeur introduced himself as Harper, and informed Walter that his luggage was already loaded, and politely escorted him out to the waiting vehicle.

When he got into the back of the car, Walter was surprised to find himself alone, and was just about to ask where his host was, when the chauffeur said, "Sir Richard asked me to tender his apologies, he was called away at the last minute.... an official car will be bringing him along later. We are to pick up his sister, Lady Alice, and her husband on our way. They live in Little Salton, which is about ten miles this side of our destination".

Thanking Harper for the information, he sat back to enjoy the drive.

Lady Alice, unruffled at her brother's absence introduced herself and her husband, Angus, to Walter, then kept up a flow of chatter where she learned where Walter came from, and that he had managed to see a little of London during his stay there. It was only much later, when he was alone in his room, getting ready for bed, that he realized she hadn't asked what he did for a living.

When Walter entered the breakfast room the next morning, he found his host, and a few of the party from the night before, sitting at a huge refectory table, eating, talking or reading a newspaper.

When Sir Richard spotted him, he got up from his place and motioned Walter to join him at the sideboard, which was covered with silver dishes and fine china. They exchanged greetings, then his host said, "You'll find fried eggs, tomatoes bacon and sausages here as well as black pudding, cold cuts, kedgeree, haddock, porridge.... To drink there's tea, coffee and fruit juices; so help yourself to whatever you fancy, Walter, then come and join me at the table.

Walter investigated the contents of all the dishes before he helped himself to eggs, bacon, sausages and tomatoes, heaped on top of fried bread, and then chose a fruit juice to drink as a sop to healthy eating. Plate in one hand, and glass in the other, he walked over to the end of the table where Sir Richard was attacking his repast with vigour, and sat in the next empty place, saying 'good morning,' to those already seated.

In between bites of his breakfast, Sir Richard gave his guest a quick primer on what he could expect over the next few days. In this way Walter discovered that lunch was also an informal affair, served in this room starting at noon. Dinner, though, was always a more formal affair. The gong would be rung once a half our before the meal, then a reminder of two gongs fifteen minutes later.

Later this morning the family would be going to church, the service was at eleven, and he was welcome to join them if he so desired. Monday, being Christmas Eve, some of the them would also be attending midnight mass. The shops in the village would be open if he needed anything. Christmas day and Boxing Day, the shops, excepting the newsagent's, would be closed, they would re-open as normal on the twenty-seventh. There would be a meeting of the local hunt on Boxing Day and again on New Year's Day.

While his host was talking, and introducing more members of the house party, Walter looked about the room committing names and faces to memory, there seemed to be something familiar about some of them, but he was unable to say where, or when, he had seen any of them before.

With breakfast over, Walter allowed himself to be swept along by the family's usual pursuits and by the time he'd retired for the night he felt more relaxed than he had in a long, long time.

Walter woke early and found the staff just putting the finishing touches to the breakfast buffet. He was relieved to find that he wasn't the first to come down, as two members of the house party were already eating.

Feeling the need to exercise after the meal, Walter dressed warmly and strolled along the west drive, out through the gates by the lodge, and into the quaint little village he'd glimpsed from the car on his arrival.

He bought a few personal items, and a booklet with a short history of the village, before starting the journey back to Chrighton Grange to rejoin the family for lunch.

As he drew near to the church, he noticed a black cat stalking along the stone wall on the far side of the churchyard towards the corner where it then sat, looking towards him, with its tail curled around its toes. So, instead of crossing the road to go back to the house, as had been his original intention, he walked across the front of the church, intrigued because there seemed to be quite a large gap between the cat and the trees which he had assumed were just outside the wall. Once he was past the church he could see that the church wall actually was on one side of a lane and the trees were on the other. As he reached the corner, he could see a discreet sign which read, 'Salton Manor. Private Road'.

"Purr-ow!"

Startled, Walter turned to look at the cat, and found himself looking into a pair of slanted, emerald-green eyes. The cat stood up, and repeated the sound, "Purr-ow!" It seemed to be an imperious demand to be noticed.

Obligingly, Walter put out a finger to scratch behind the cat's ear. After a couple of minutes the black head turned, rubbing itself against the edge of his hand. Walter chuckled and ran his fingers from the top of the cat's head and along spine to the tail. The cat then turned round a couple of times on the corner-stone, then started to walk back along the wall. Half and dozen steps later, the cat stopped and looked around.

"Purr-ow-ow!" Definitely a command. Walter walked down the lane until he was level with the cat who then started walking again.

At the end of the churchyard the stone wall gave way to a brick one of the same height, then a few yards further on, the wall was pierced by a gateway. The cat delicately stepped down from the brick gatepost to the wooden one, down again on to the gate itself, then finally a small jump to the ground, where it stood and waited for Walter to follow.

However, Walter was not going to follow any further, he had been quite willing to provide company for the cat on neutral territory, but it was quite another thing to purposely trespass on someone else's land.

The cat sat down and Walter leaned against the gatepost, waiting to see what it would do. Stalemate.

The cat cocked its head to one side. "Purr-ow?"

"You'll have to go home on your own," Walter told it softly.

"Bagheera!" A voice called from somewhere behind the cat. "Ba-GHEEER-A!

The cat turned its head and replied with "Purr-ow", but it didn't move. Walter started to turn away.

"Bagheera? Are you all right, boy?" A man thrust through the bushes behind the cat. "Oh, there you are; what-"

Walter tensed, then turned back at the sound of a voice he had believed he would never hear again. "Krycek!"

The man turned to face him, his arms full of a cat who was enjoying having his back stroked.

"Fuck!" Two pairs of green eyes studied the figure in the gateway. "You'd better come up to the house, I guess we need to talk." Krycek finally said.

Walter took a deep breath to help calm his anger and exhaled noisily before replying in his best AD voice, "Yes, we do!"

Krycek raised an eyebrow at him, then turned to walk calmly back the way he had come, clearly expecting Walter to follow.

Walter took another deep breath, then did indeed follow, thinking, "Just like I followed the damn cat...."

Once they had cleared the trees, Walter came to a halt again. He wasn't sure what he had expected to see... but a building so evidently 'old' had taken him by surprise. He looked along the façade, and it wasn't until he saw Krycek waiting for him in the porch that he managed to pull himself together and start walking again.

Neither of them spoke again until they were inside the building with the door latched behind them. Walter looked around the huge entry way and couldn't resist saying, "This is a very unusual house."

"I don't know about unusual," Krycek replied, bending to put the cat down. "It's old, certainly, and had bits added to it over the centuries, but then so have many of the houses in the village. At least this house is not unpleasing to the eye... the Rectory is truly ugly." He took off his coat, and hung it on one of the iron hooks screwed to the panelled wall. "Give me your coat, it will be much warmer in the sitting room."

Walter hung the heavy overcoat up himself.

Krycek shrugged, and walked towards the door where the cat was pawing at the handle. "This way," he said somewhat unnecessarily.

He let them into the pleasantly furnished room, the cat leading the way, towards a large open fireplace where a log fire was burning. "Would you like a Drink? Tea, coffee, or something stronger?"

"Beer, if you have it."

Krycek deviated from his course, opened a cupboard and revealed a chiller cabinet with quite a few different brands of beer and lager inside. "Help yourself." He took out a bottle of Spitfire, then went to another cupboard to fetch a couple of tall glasses. He handed one glass to Walter, and poured the contents of his bottle into the other. Going over to the fireplace, he sat in one of the two wing-backed chairs that flanked the stone hearth. No sooner was he seated than the black cat had jumped up on his lap and made himself comfortable.

Seemingly concentrating on stroking the cat, Alex studied Walter through the veil of his eyelashes. With the alien war long over, and most of the collaborators having been dealt with, the AD looked far better than he had for a long time, and he had to firmly tell his libido to behave as if he didn't crave the man's touch.

Walter poured out his beer, then took a seat in the chair on the opposite side of the fire. His anger now banked right down, he bided his time waiting for the right moment to ask his questions. There were some undercurrents here that he didn't understand... but he was determined that he was going to get an explanation from Krycek.

Krycek raised his glass in a silent toast, then took a sip of the dark liquid.

Walter tentatively took a sip from his glass... and felt his taste buds sit up and take notice... he hadn't tasted anything quite this good in a long, long time. He made a mental note to have the hotel stock his fridge with some bottles of this brew; it would be a potent weapon against the weariness induced by the hours of talking in each of the daily sessions.

Slowly sipping at his beer, Walter studied the man seated opposite. It was six years since he'd seen him, and those years had treated the younger man well. He no longer looked gaunt, or driven... he looked... damned good.... Skinner pulled his mind away from that thought. Content was what he had meant... sitting stroking the cat with his left hand, a hand that had so obviously been stiff and false when he'd replayed those scenes in his head.... What he needed now was answers.

After drinking almost half the glass of beer while he'd been thinking, Walter put it on the small table beside him, and looked enquiringly at Krycek. "You said we had to talk... so talk. Though judging by your close neighbours, and more than a passing resemblance to some members of my host's family, is this where you get to say; 'my name is Bond, James Bond' or is Alex Krycek your real name?"

Alex looked up, a smile touching his lips. "Astute of you Walter. My name is Alex, well Alexander actually, Alexander Chrighton. Richard, your host for the weekend, is a distant cousin of mine."

"So how did Alexander Chrighton come to be Alex Krycek?" Walter asked, anxious not only to learn about Alex's past, but also wanting to listen to Alex's husky voice.

Alex rubbed a hand over his face, collecting his thoughts. "It's a bit difficult to know where to start," he said, almost too quietly for Walter to hear him. "However... I'll try to keep the explanation as short as possible. It has been a kind of tradition in the Chrighton family for the younger sons to find careers in the army or the diplomatic service. My father, although the only boy in a family of five, decided that he wanted to be a diplomat. His other interest, hobby really, is genealogy. In the countries he has visited as part of his career, he always tried to track down the descendants, if any, of members of the family who had left England and started a new life abroad.

"My mother was his second wife. His first wife, Constance, died from peritonitis whilst they were living in Australia, not long after giving birth to their only child, a son. So when he was posted to Washington, his household consisted of his twin sister, Georgiana, a nanny and his son.

"Naturally he started searching there for branches of the family tree, and found the descendants of Albert Chrighton, who had emigrated to America in the early nineteenth century: Henry Chrighton, whose only daughter, Maria, had married Jaroslav Krycek. They had two children, Anna-Maria who my father fell in love with and married, and Peter who married Aunt Georgiana.

"By the time I was born we were living in California; Alex Krycek and I were born in the same hospital on the same day...." Alex laughed, "Can you imagine two young boys, who looked enough alike to be twins, playing tricks on people by pretending to be each other?"

His laughter was infectious, and Walter found himself smiling in return.

Alex took another swallow of his beer before continuing with his narrative. "Although I started my schooling in America, it wasn't long before my father was moved again, so I came back to England and went to boarding school here. So, for a while Alex and I hardly ever saw one another. Our schooling, though, was eerily similar... we both studied science and chemistry... he wanted to be a vet, I was toying with the idea of being a forensic scientist... as it turned out neither of us achieved those early ambitions."

Walter nodded in sympathy. "We don't always get what we want," he said quietly, thinking back to his own early ambitions.

"When the smoker, Spender, approached Alex, he originally rejected his offer... then immediately told me about it. By this time we both knew that some members of our extended family were in the security services. We talked it over and decided to make the approaches through his mother, Georgiana, who had been widowed four years earlier, and had moved back to England. She obviously knew who to speak to, for by the time he had crossed the Atlantic, cousin Andrew was waiting for him."

"Cousin Andrew?"

Alex laughed, "A cousin, certainly, but Andrew is not his real name. I won't go into the why or the wherefore of what was decided, except to say that Alex is far more of a 'dove' than me which is essentially why we swapped places, and I allowed myself to be recruited by Spender.

"Every scrap of information I came across was passed to cousin Andrew and throughly analysed by his team of which Alex Chrighton was a member. When I went to Tunguska with Mulder, I came back with a sample of their vaccine and copies of all their research. When the Brit, as Mulder called him, died, I found that he had made me his heir in the Consortium, so I inherited a wealth of information. I stayed in place for another couple of years, then my elder brother was killed in a riding accident, so I had to come home - hence the shoot out in the Hoover garage.... I apologise for putting you under such pressure Walter, but it had to look good - more importantly from the Resistance's perspective, you and Mulder had to believe I was dead - it was safer for me, and for both of you, that way."

Walter gravely nodded his acceptance of what Alex was trying to tell him.

"Anyway, after our confrontation, one of the Resistance's Alien healers brought me back to life and gave me back my arm... since there was no longer any point in not doing so... and, of course, having two arms also helped my disguise. A few hours after that I was reunited with cousin Alex. We had a celebration of sorts, then got down to work on improving the vaccine and finding a way to deliver it. You know as much about what happened next as I do."

"That I do," Walter affirmed. "Unexplained deaths, people in high places disappearing without a trace... leaving governments with huge security problems... a general clear out of the Consortium and its willing minions, and an amnesty for those who had been forced or coerced into cooperating. So what has happened to your cousin Alex, Alex? Doesn't having two people of the same name make things awkward?"

Alex laughed. "We decided long ago to shorten both of our names, that if I was going to be Alex, he was Lex. As for what happened... Lex has become what he always wanted... a vet, he's a partner in the local practice."

"What about you, Alex?"

Alex looked away a slight frown wrinkling the bridge of his nose, then he looked back at Walter and smiled brightly. "I've had enough excitement to last me a long time, Walter, and the lessons I learned about making compromises; making the best of circumstances, have stood me in good stead since I returned home. I never expected to become my father's heir... and if my brother's wife had borne him a son instead of two daughters, I would have been spared a position I didn't want and for which I had not been trained." Alex sighed, "However; I don't think that I will ever be able to persuade Lucinda, my brother's widow, that I would really rather not have the job."

"Does she still live here?"

"Yes, but not in this house, thank God. My father allows her to live in the Dower House at the other end of the village. To be honest I don't think he likes her very much, and she and Zoë do not get on well."

"Zoë?"

"She was part of our research team, I've known her since we were children, but we got to be friends while we were at college. She, and her cousin Sophie, lived in the flat above the one I was renting. They were both reading medicine, so we attended some of the same lectures. Anyway, a few months after my father took me aside and made it plain that it was my duty to provide an heir; I fled to London to escape Lucinda's ever more blatant suggestions that she would make me the ideal wife... even going so far as to assure me that we could get the necessary dispensation to marry." Alex shuddered dramatically, forcing a murmur of complaint from the cat on his lap.

"While I was in London, I met up with Lex, and he invited me to a party he was giving for some of the others we'd worked with. Zoë was there and we got to talking... and got drunk together... and found that we were in similar positions; our lives were changing through the actions of other people. In her case, her father had just got married to a girl younger than she was, who was jealous of the fact that Zoë had been mistress of the house since her mother had died. Her father, quite naturally I suppose, sided with his new wife, and told his daughter that if she wanted to continue to be the mistress of her own house, she should find an eligible husband." He stopped talking for a moment and quaffed the last of his beer.

As Alex talked about himself, and his friend Zoë, so Walter's spirits sank further and further... he could not have explained why he felt as he did, only that there was a sense of something not quite right within himself.

Alex, though, seemed oblivious to the effect that his words were having on his guest, and started talking again.

"After we'd got over our hangovers, and because we were both 'unemployed', we hung out together until the evenings when the others would return from either college or their jobs... well we found we liked the same things, enjoyed the same movies; had read many of the same books... suddenly we realized that the solution to our problems was staring us in the face... literally. I needed a wife to beget an heir, she adored children and needed a husband. I talked to Lex about it, she consulted Sophie...

"...well... we now have two young sons... and Zoë is expecting again, we're hoping that it's a girl this time...." After a couple of minutes of silence he drew a breath as if to say more, then shook his head slightly and let the breath out again as he lifted the cat off his lap and got up to put another log on the fire.

"Would you like another beer, Walter?" he asked still staring into the flames.

Walter looked at the clock on the mantel, lunch would soon be served at Chrighton Grange. "No, thank you. I really ought to be getting back, they are expecting me for lunch."

"Yes." Alex's reply was hardly more than a whisper.

Bagheera stretched and yawned; the two men seemed locked in stasis, neither wanting to be the one to make the first move. Bagheera sniffed at his master's shoes, then rubbed his head against a trousered leg, before heading for the door. After touching the door with a paw to confirm that it was shut, he announced his wish to leave the room very loudly.

"Purr-ow!"

Startled by the sudden noise, Walter surged to his feet as Alex spun around, they crashed together and clutched at one another to keep from falling over... they stood still, green eyes looking directly into chocolate brown, truths which had been hidden were suddenly painfully obvious.

....

"Purr-ow!" Bagheera yowled again.

Alex blinked, dropped his hands and walked over to the door, following the cat out into the hall once he'd opened it.

Now the door was open, Walter could hear voices, then another imperative from the cat was met with a childish giggle.

"'Lo Gheera. 'Lo Dad-dee."

"Did you enjoy your walk with Gillian, Nicholas?"

Making the excuse to himself that he needed to get his coat, Walter went out into the hall, intrigued more than he was willing to admit by the idea of seeing what Alex might have looked like as a child.

The little boy Alex was holding nodded solemnly. "We went to see Toby's new kittens... there's one that looks just like Gheera," he frowned slightly, then added, "Only smaller."

"Kittens are baby cats, and just like little boys they get bigger when they get older."

"They do? Oh..." he caught sight of Walter and turned shyly to bury his face in Alex's neck, from which no amount of coaxing by his father was able to move him.

Walter donned his coat and scarf. "Thanks for the drink and the talk, Alex. We must do it again sometime. I must go now... lunch... er... bye..." Walter knew he was babbling, but couldn't help himself. He nodded goodbye to Gillian, whom he assumed was the boys' nanny, and left, silently berating himself for feeling jealous because Alex was holding his son in his arms, instead of him.

"Oh God, what a time to realize I've been in love with Alex for years," he muttered as he stalked along the drive towards the house where he was staying... each determined step taking him away from... Alex.

When Walter walked out of the door, Alex felt as if his heart was being wrenched from his chest. There was still so much that he wanted... needed to say. Those few moments of rapport when they were holding one another had smashed down the walls he had so carefully built around his heart. At that moment he wanted Walter so much that it almost hurt to breathe... yet he had to pretend... continue talking to the children as if nothing was wrong.

He went up to the nursery with Gillian and the boys, and stayed to play with them for a while until their lunch was served.

Going back downstairs, he entered the small dinning room, and sat down to a lonely luncheon. His mind automatically returned its attention to the meeting that morning, wondering what would Walter do now. Would he decide to leave or would he remain as one of Richard's guests? If he stayed they would meet again tonight when the whole family would descend on the Grange for their traditional Christmas - even he and Zoë would be staying there tonight.

There was one ray of hope. Walter hadn't said that he wouldn't meet him again... and had even thanked him for the beer, albeit in a rather disjointed fashion. Maybe Walter had been more shaken by their encounter in front of the fire than he had first thought.

Whatever happened now, it was up to him to behave correctly. If Walter fled he hoped he would be strong enough not to follow him, if he stayed, then he must be sure he didn't make any stupid moves.

After struggling to keep up appearances during lunch, Walter sought refuge in his room, his emotions in turmoil.

He sat at the desk by the window, looking through the glass with sightless eyes, examining his past.

He remembered the first time he'd seen Alex. The boy had been standing at the back of a conference room; one of many agents who had been drafted in to assist on a politically sensitive case. He'd been looking around the room while one of the team leaders had been summing up the evidence so far, and he'd been so struck by the beauty of the boy listening so intently, that he had almost missed his cue to speak.

Then, very early one morning, a few weeks later the new Agent had submitted a 302 on the Grissom case. He had hovered on the threshold, asking if it was convenient to talk to the Assistant Director. He had explained the case well, the fact that he'd been given the tip by a friend, and the reasons why he thought it was FBI business. He had already spoken to the detective on the case, got reports from the fire department and had obtained as much information from forensics as they would release at that time.

Then Mulder had submitted a 302 on the same case... he smiled as he recalled that Alex had managed to keep a slightly tighter leash on his wandering agent than many who had tried before - and he had reported in diligently.

The after case debriefing had been a trial... he had been so tempted to ask the Agent to stay behind to subtly show some interest, get to know him...

... he wondered if he had done so would later events have been altered; would Alex have learnt to trust him enough to confide in him. He shook his head, the Smoker's almost constant residence on his office sofa would probably been more of a deterrent to intimacy than any overtures of interest from himself could overcome. He had still been fairly new to his position in those days and wary of stepping on anyone's toes, including those of that cancerous bastard.

His marriage to Sharon had been in trouble even before Agent Krycek had appeared on the scene and he now recognized that it had been a mistake from the start, their shared interests too few for the relationship to sustain itself....

Then had come Alex. He had lusted after the beautiful young man.... fought internal battles with himself and won, or so he had thought at the time. Looking back he now acknowledged that it had been love and not lust he had been feeling. Had it been that depth emotion, unrecognized by him at the time, that had stopped him from making a greater effort at reconciliation, and finally driven Sharon and himself apart? Probably, it was now glaringly obvious that they hadn't really been in love in the first place.

Coming back to the present, he found that the sun was no longer shining and he was sitting in the gloom of winter's afternoon. After switching on the desk lamp, he closed the curtains. It was still only early afternoon, but with a line of hills to the west, a cloudy sky and the fact that London, and most of Great Britain, was slightly further North than Calgary in Canada, the hours of daylight were very short this time of year.

He sighed and walked into the bathroom. He had a ton of regrets; for lost opportunities, wasted time... and wasted lives.... Who was it that had said that hindsight had 20-20 vision?

While washing his hands he studied himself in the mirror, wondering what Alex saw in him, for there had been longing in those green eyes of that he was sure. He took off his glasses and tried to be objective. He was not handsome, he had a strong face to which the receded hairline added character. He snorted when he remembered the one time he had shaved all his hair off in disgust... it had made him look like the epitome of a thug... his boss at the time had said if he was ever needed to go under cover then he was welcome to use it as a disguise, but until then it would be a good idea if he were to grow it again.

Sharon hadn't liked it either and she had agreed with the reasoning of his boss when he'd told her about it.

Replacing his glasses, he glanced at his watch and was surprised at the amount of time which had passed while he had been recalling past events.

Sir Richard had told him at breakfast that there would be a Carol Service in the church, starting at 3 p.m. and that he would be welcome if he wanted join them. Later, most of the family would be attending Midnight Mass.

He checked his watch again, relieved to find that there was still more than enough time to get into the church before the service began. As he shrugged into his overcoat he wondered if Alex would be there.

Alex was there.

As soon as he walked into the church with the party of guests, Walter spotted Alex standing at the front of the nave, talking to Sir Richard. Walter picked up the order of service booklet of the 9 lessons and carols, and was relieved to find that he knew most of the carols listed, having listened to the BBC's overseas broadcast from King's College, Cambridge for so many years.

As the pews were filled and the organist was nearing the end of Bach's Toccata and Fugue, the two men ended their quiet conversation and took their seats in the front pews on either side of the central aisle.

There was a moment of silence as the recital came to a close, then the organist played a loud chord, everyone rose to their feet and the Processional Hymn of "Once in Royal David's City" heralded the entrance of the choir and clergy.

After members of the choir had read the first two lessons, Alex read the third, Sir Richard read the fourth, then other members of the congregation; each reading being interspersed with traditional carols.

The Vicar gave the Christmas blessing, then came the final hymn, "Hark! the Herald Angels Sing" their joyful singing filling the ancient church with sound.

The choir and clergy filed out, followed by the congregation, to Bach's "In Dulci Jubilo".

When he reached the open air, Walter found that Sir Richard was waiting for him. His host smiled genially, and turned to walk beside him as they made their way back to the Grange. "I kind of shanghaied you in London and I've thrust you into the bedlam of a family Christmas. Are you enjoying yourself, Walter?" he asked seriously.

"Yes, I am. I will admit that by Saturday evening I was wondering what I had let myself in for, but your family have made me very welcome. They seem to have come from all over the world just to spend Christmas with you."

Sir Richard nodded. "We all try to get 'home' for Christmas - this year it's my turn to accommodate family and friends - even Alex and Zoë will bring their children from the Manor to stay for the night. All those who are coming will have arrived this afternoon, and the children will have their Christmas party this evening... though I think they prefer it when they have the run of Alex's house." He glanced over at Walter. "He told me you renewed your acquaintance this afternoon..."

Walter just nodded.

Sir Richard went on... "Alex runs the estate much better than his step-brother ever did. Never did like the elder boy; didn't like his mother much, either. Anna-Maria, Alex's mother was entirely different... Alex takes after her..." He paused, then seemed to shake himself. "...anyway that's by the by... we were talking about the Manor... it's a lot older than the Grange and has lots of interesting passages for the children to explore. We take it in turns to play host, you know."

They walked on without speaking for a couple of minutes, their feet crunching the loose gravel on the drive.

A flurry of wings and the yip of a fox startled Walter.

Sir Richard looked up as some of the disturbed birds flew overhead, then he said:

"Oh, while I think of it, Christmas Day meal times are different. Breakfast starts at 6 a.m. for those children, of all ages, who can't wait to see what Santa has brought them. If you want breakfast in your room, just ring down. Dinner is at 1 p.m., that's so most of the staff, once they have laid out the buffet for the evening, can spend the rest of the day with their own families."

By this time they'd reached the house, once inside they gave their overcoats over to a waiting footman, then followed the sound of excited children to take a look at the party being held in the ballroom.

Looking around at all the different height tables set out over the polished wood floor, Walter spotted Alex sitting on the floor beside Nicholas who was at one of the lowest tables, along with six other children of around the same age.

Sir Richard went to talk to his daughter who was seated at one of the tables for older children, while Walter wandered over to where a group of adults were congregated around a table set out with refreshments more suitable for their age.

Lady Marianna, after asking what he would like to drink, poured out the cup of coffee he chose, then took Walter to meet a tall, elegantly beautiful, brown-eyed brunette. "Walter, this is Zoë, Alex's wife. She said she'd like to meet you."

Walter and Zoë shook hands and made polite conversation until Lady Marianna had drifted back to the refreshment table.

Zoë put down her empty cup, then said, "I wanted to talk to you, Walter: mainly because I have heard so much about you from Alex and his friends; but also because I wanted to meet the man whom Alex loves."

Walter looked at her in astonishment, which made her laugh.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have sprung that on you so abruptly. I have known Alex for a very long time. His father and my uncle, Nathaniel Trevellian, were business partners, and because of my Mother's ill health, I lived with my Aunt and Uncle not far from here. So it was natural that we should confide in one another as we got older. We also attended the same University."

Walter bought himself some time to think by finding a space to deposit his now empty cup and saucer. "I don't... didn't... know that...." The words he wanted to say just stuck in his throat.

Taking pity on him, Zoë said, "Alex told me that he'd seen you this morning, that you'd talked, and that he felt there might be a chance.... Do you love him, Walter?"

Walter just stared at her, his brain unable to come to terms with the fact that he was being asked this question by the woman that Alex had married.

"Being the mistress of my own destiny, and looking after my father's estate for so long, I tend to be a little outspoken, Walter. Alex and I, well, we love each other dearly, but we are not 'in love'. We both love our children, so in many ways we are content."

Walter finally found his voice. "Yes, I believe I do love him," he replied sincerely. "But I don't understand..." He waved his hand in a gesture to encompass the room, unable to put his thoughts about what he considered insurmountable difficulties into words.

She smiled, accurately guessing what was whirling around in his mind. "We're two of a kind, we both fell in love with people who were wholly unsuitable for our respective positions. I fell in love with Sophie, Alex with you. We were both reared in the knowledge that we have obligations... Alex, when he met you, was in deep cover; since his brother's death he has had to learn to look after the estate. The income from the estate pays the wages of the people who work on it. They rely on him to run it well enough to generate enough income to pay their wages.... Obligations he takes very seriously. Alex and I made a bargain with each other and come hell or high water, neither of us will break that compact.

"We are, however, both human enough to need the help and affection from those we truly love. Which is why I am talking to you now."

Finally getting his brain in gear, Walter asked. "What about the children, aren't you worried about corrupting them? Or that they'll find out what is going on and inadvertently let your secret out?"

"I never said it was going to be easy, Walter, but if you and Alex want it enough, then you will find a way to make it work, as Sophie and I have done."

She smiled slightly. "Sophie and I talked about it a great deal before Alex and I told our families we were getting married. Sophie has made her home in the village; she is a partner in the local doctors' practice. The village knows we went to University together, so they are not surprised to see us together."

She paused for a moment, trying to discern what effect her words were having, then went on, "I've said all I'm going to on the subject, it's up to you and Alex now... Have a Very Happy Christmas, Walter," she gave him a huge smile, then moved away.

Walter stayed to watch the party enjoying the childrens' delight, watching the games, and the interactions between Alex and his son. When the party was over, Walter and the other watchers were pressed into helping to carry the younger participants up to their bedrooms.

Duty done, he made a quick detour to his bedroom to get changed for dinner which would be early tonight so that staff would have plenty of time to go to midnight mass... if they wanted to.

Once the evening meal was over, he slowly made his way back to his room, deep in thought. He turned over in his mind what he had heard from Alex and Zoë. It was a very bizarre situation in which he found himself, yet he could see a pragmatic logic about it too... given the obvious intelligence of the parties involved.

He regretted the unfinished talk between Alex and himself, there were still questions to be answered... secrets to be shared; the interruption had come at the very worst moment. Yet it had caused them to touch... to really look at one another... and he had seen the expression in Alex's eyes...

'I am loved.' The thought brought a smile to his face.

He went into his room, locked the door, and took his pyjamas into the bathroom with him. On the way out again he stopped, there was something different about the room. The chair almost opposite the bathroom door appeared to have been moved about 3 feet towards the corner of the room. He sat on the bed to ponder this anomaly only to be startled into standing up again when something touched him on the back.

Spinning round he found a green-eyed, black cat lying stretched out across his bed, one paw raised which solved the mystery of what had touched him. The cat blinked at him, then nochalently started to lick the paw as if as prove that touching people with it was the last thing he would do.

Walter peered at it, wondering if it was just coincidence that this cat looked exactly like the one he'd encountered early this morning... with Alex. He tentatively stretched out a finger to rub behind the cat's ears. Then again, maybe it wasn't too much of a coincidence. Alex had brought his wife and children over here this evening, maybe he'd brought his cat, too. Taking liberties with an offered belly to rub he took a look at the name tag on the collar. 'Bagheera. Salton Manor'.

"So, Bagheera, how did you get in my bedroom?" He dared to touch the cat's nose. The front paws came up immediately to try to trap the teasing finger. Walter had snatched his hand away, so in a fit of catly pique, Bagheera rolled away from him, jumped down from the bed and stalked across the room to disappear behind the chair that had caught his attention earlier. Having passed the chair Walter expected Bagheera to stop... be he didn't, the cat seemed to walk right through the wall. Intrigued, he followed Bagheera's path and found that he'd been fooled by an optical illusion... the chair hadn't moved at all... the real corner of the room was concealed by a partly open door that matched that panelling so well that he hadn't realized that it was there.

He pulled the door further open and saw there was a matching one the other side of the opening. Looking at the sides of the doorway he estimated that the wall itself must be about eighteen inches thick, and when both doors were closed there wouldn't be much room between them. He stepped up into the space between the doors, then down into the next room. He was surprised to find that this was furnished as a living room.

He arrived just in time to see Bagheera jump up on to the window seat where he turned round three times then curled up giving the impression that he'd been there for hours.

"Is there anyone here?" he called out. The cat's ears twitched.

A few moments later, a door like the one behind him was pushed open and Alex stood on the threshold.

Walter felt that some excuse for this intrusion should be offered. "I followed your cat through from my bedroom," he said, indicating the open door behind him.

Alex laughed. "I'll wager he was lying in the middle of your bed, too. Sorry, that's my fault, I didn't realize that anyone was using the room. Baggy was pawing at the door, so I let him through."

Although it was only the second time that he had heard Alex laugh, Walter decided that he could easily get addicted to the sound.

Alex soon sobered, however. "Now that we've met again, I expect there are still some questions you would like answered."

"There are a few, but only a couple that can't wait. One, does Mulder know that you are alive, and; two, why didn't you tell me?"

"Ask the easy ones, why don't you," Alex groused. He walked to the window and sat down beside the cat. After a moment's hesitation, Walter seated himself at the other end of the window seat.

"Yes, Mulder and Scully know. After we got them out of the States and he found the Gunmen were still alive, he put two and two together and demanded to know where I was. He and Scully were told some of what I told you earlier, then brought to the lab where we were working, to meet Lex and myself. Mulder and I had some very frank discussions, it finally tickled his sense of humour that I'd worked for so many different agencies at one time, that I had trouble keeping score, he laughed so much that I had to thump him on the back to stop him choking. After that we became friends and spent a lot of our spare time talking about this and that...." He smiled reminiscently, they'd got on really well after the last of Mulder's antagonism had melted away.

"Scully ended up joining us in the lab, while Mulder applied his mind to all the data that had been collected, which proved to be of invaluable help. With a computer you have to know the right question to ask, with Mulder there; a casual enquiry could get you the entire set of references."

Walter nodded, he understood all about Mulder's analytical mind and it's fantastic recall abilities.

"Not only did that help us in the lab, but he was also able to send further information about the colonist projects to the task force. The only fly in the ointment as far as we were concerned is that we were expressly forbidden to let you know that we were alive. It wasn't a reflection on you," Alex hastened to assure him. "It was the fact that the FBI had been so badly compromised that, while we could trust you, and probably the people that you trusted... we didn't know anything about those they trusted. It wasn't until all the infiltrators and traitors had been neutralized that we were allowed to pass on any information to you at all."

"Why were you so sure that your organization hadn't been compromised?"

"We had already weeded out the super-soldiers ourselves using magnetite; as for the others... do you remember Gibson Praise?"

Skinner nodded, he'd met the young boy who could read minds.

"We helped hide him away for a while. Then I went to have a talk with him, we'd met before you see so he already knew I wasn't who I was supposed to be. I explained who I was and what we were trying to achieve. He is very mature for his age, and the upshot was that he volunteered to use his talents to vet all our staff. Later, he did the same for some of the other security services. Then we gave him a new identity and found him a home where he could settle down and become whatever he wanted."

He smiled sadly, looking down at the Indian carpets covering most of the floor "I miss having him around, actually. He still writes to me occasionally... let's me know how he's getting on...." his voice trailed off.

Walter didn't quite know what to say, or do. Ever since his first sight of Krycek this morning, 'Was it only this morning?', his emotions had been on roller-coaster ride. First anger, then wonderment that he was still alive, closely followed by lust as he had watched the lithe body moving about the sitting room. The electric touch when they had grabbed on to one another to keep their balance, the sparks that had flown between them, when he recognized not lust, but love for Alex in his heart. Now? Now he wanted to throw his arm across his shoulder and give him a hug and tell him that everything would be all right.

Bagheera lifted his head slightly and stretched out a paw to touch his master on the thigh. Alex's left hand moved to scratch behind the cat's ears.

Walter suddenly realized that Alex was probably missing those people he'd lived with for months. "Have you seen any of the others since then?"

Alex shook his head. "Not many. I never met Mulder at Oxford, he had left at the end of the term before I started, so we have no public reason for knowing one another. Other than you, Walter, we have no mutual acquaintances. We did think about setting up a link through the Gunmen, but decided that it was too risky for the moment, and besides trying to have a debate though email just didn't cut it. I expect that eventually we will find a plausible way to 'bump into one another' and resume our long evening talks. Lex and his wife Bridget live nearby in West Salton, I think I told you he is now a vet. Sophie is a doctor in our local practice, she lives in the village. Then there's Zoë and I at the Manor House."

"I met Zoë at the childrens' party this afternoon, you probably saw us talking." When Alex nodded, he went on, "We had a very enlightening conversation."

Alex's eyes took on a wary look, which made Walter smile... and remember the look of love he had seen in those same green eyes that morning.

Deciding that if he wanted to get laid this side of Christmas, he would have to take things into his own hands; Walter walked over to stand in front of Alex, and in one, swift move pulled him up into his arms, covering the mouth which had opened in surprise with his own.

For a moment, Alex went rigid with shock, then melted into Walter's arms, his own arms rising to slide round Walter's back to press them, if it were possible, even closer together.

They drew slightly apart, panting a little.

"Bed," Walter said.

Alex nodded, and pulled Walter towards the open panelling through which he had entered the room. Urging Walter through, he grabbed the handle and pulled the door closed, just missing the tail of Bagheera as the cat shot through into the room beyond.

Walter looked around the huge, elongated D-shaped room in amazement, and marvelled at the truly enormous four-poster bed set against the one straight wall. He found himself imagining himself and Alex sprawled across it... The loud clunk as Alex locked the bedroom door brought him back to the present.

Their eyes met and there was no need for further speech. Walter started stripping off his clothes dropping them on to a nearby tapestry covered chair. Alex walked round the far side of the bed, took a small towel, lube and condoms out of the ornate cabinet on his side of the bed and placed them within easy reach, then he, too, stripped off his clothes.

By common consent, they pulled the top coverings to the bottom of the bed, out of their way, then climbed on to it and rolled towards the middle.

Their mouths met in another searing kiss, their hardness trapped between them, then Alex whispered, "Make love to me, Walter."

Needing no further encouragement, Walter rolled Alex on to his back, propped his hips up on some pillows, and reached for the lube.

Alex opened his legs and drew up his knees, holding on to his erection with his left hand as Walter started to open him. As the first finger slipped inside, he murmured, "Oh God... yeah."

Walter very carefully prepared his love for Alex was very tight, and he didn't want to hurt him... but it was difficult to hold back when Alex kept begging him... pleading with him to hurry.

Finally satisfied that Alex was more than ready for him he rolled on a condom and eased himself inside, watching his lover's eyes all the time, and found that they were both panting by the time he was buried to the root in the tight passage.

Then he started to move, and thrust, and rubbed at Alex's beautiful uncut cock until the green eyes closed and his body strained upwards... Alex's hips undulated and Walter felt the muscles contracting around him... his hand was covered in semen... his own hips pistoning him into the welcoming hole... and their cries echoed about the room.

They stilled, then Walter flopped forward and rolled to his left pulling Alex with him, then they just lay there, content to just hold one another for a while.

Alex dropped a kiss on the top of Walter's head.

Walter teased a nipple with his teeth, then licked it to soothe the small hurt.

"Love you, Walter." Alex's hands rubbed up and down his lover's back.

Walter teased the nipple again, "I love you so much, Alex. I feel as if I've waited all my life for this moment."

"I wish this night could last forever..." came Alex's whispered reply, an underlying note of sadness in his voice.

Walter was suddenly filled with the fear that this could be the one and only night they would spend together...

...only too well aware that not every story has a happy ending....

Alex stirred, kissed him on the forehead and whispered, "Happy Christmas, Walter."

"Happy Christmas, Alex... You're the best Christmas present I could have ever imagined."

They slept... wrapped in each other's arms.

THE END

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