Author’s Notes: I know it's quite unrealistic that Fox has never 
experienced snow before but this is *my* AU so I can write whatever 
the hell I want! LOL! So, don't bother emailing me to point that one 
out. I mean, I've only recently learned that the book Skinner likes to 
read out loud to the boy ("Sherlock Holmes") was written in the early 
20th century! Eek. So it didn't exist in the Wild West. You know what? 
I don't care. I'm not trying to win the Accuracy Award – I'm only here 
to spank Rascal's buttocks!!! LOL!

Additional Author's Notes: Thanks to Xanthe for her two pennies. <g> 
Also thanks to Lorelei for being "technical consultant", "historical 
expert" or "equine continuity advisor" (take your pick). Knobs rule! 
<g> Big thanks to Melanie for an idea she told me many moons ago... 
Actually, the whole chapter was written because of your suggestion! 
:-) Huge Thank You to Vic for the wonderful Russian! <hug>

Warning: This is a Western AU with a teenaged Fox who will eventually 
have some sort of parental relationship with Skinner. If this isn't 
your cup of tea, do not read on.

Category: PG-13, Discipline

Disclaimer: I wish.

My addy is: gaby@gaby.slashcity.tv

My home is at: http://gaby.slashcity.tv

Summary: "Winter. When had summer so seamlessly hardened from warm 
nights and long days, into cold winds and frosty window panes...?" 
(unauthorized and wonderfully poetic quote by Xanthe...I loved this 
one so much I had to use it...)



INDEPENDENCE
by Gaby


Chapter 10 – Breaking The Ice



The door slammed shut with a loud bang, leaving Sheriff Skinner 
staring at it with a bewildered look on his face. Then he slowly 
turned around to look at the empty chair across the small table he sat 
at, the one that his rascal had vacated mere seconds ago before he ran 
out of the cabin. Damn that boy! It was late, it was dark and it was 
cold!

Skinner got up, grabbed his own and the boy's heavy coats and followed 
Fox outside, determined to find his errant charge and bring him back, 
no matter what. He knew from experience that the boy was a damned fast 
runner so he hoped that he hadn't gotten too far away yet. Finding 
anybody in that darkness was difficult – finding his rascal was close 
to impossible. That boy was incredibly talented when it came to his 
famous vanishing acts.

Luckily the sheriff didn't have to look for long. Fox had climbed the 
fence surrounding the pasture, talking to his Spirit softly. The 
little horse seemed to sense that the boy was upset because he nuzzled 
his friend with his nose, whinnying reassuringly. Skinner shrugged 
into his coat, sighing softly. He wondered for the hundredth time when 
exactly living with Fox had turned into such a nightmare. The boy was 
uncontrollable at the moment and the sheriff's patience was wearing 
very thin by now. He took another deep breath, trying to calm himself, 
before he slowly walked over to the corral.

"Rascal," he began in soothing tones, still a few feet away. "You know 
the rules."

"Go away!"

Skinner frowned. Even though the boy was hot-tempered at times he 
usually minded his manners. Sort of. "Rascal," he began again, a 
little sterner, but he was cut off once more.

"Leave me alone!"

Well, that did it. Skinner stepped up to the boy, causing Spirit to 
dart off in fear for a moment before he bravely came back to defend 
his little human friend. The sheriff held the boy's coat up. "You have 
a choice to make, Rascal," the sheriff announced. "We either go back 
to the cabin right now or we stay outside for a few minutes so you can 
cool off that temper of yours. In that case you will wear your coat 
until we're back in the warmth of our home. And I mean right now!" His 
voice turned louder causing the boy to look at him for the first time. 
The challenge in his rascal's eyes died when he saw the determination 
on the sheriff's face.

"Fine," Fox mumbled, snatching the coat out of Skinner's hand and 
wrapping his skinny body in it. "There. Happy now?" He climbed back on 
top of the fence, turning his attention to Spirit who bravely stayed 
rooted to the spot even though Skinner was still there. The little 
horse still wouldn't get close to anybody except Fox. "You can go back 
inside now," the boy informed the big man.

"I don't think so, Rascal. I told you your choices. We either go 
inside together or we stay outside together. You know the rules."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Fox growled. "I'm not allowed to stay outside 
without an adult to accompany me after dusk." He shot a baleful look 
at the sheriff who was less than impressed. "I'm not allowed to do 
*anything*," the boy continued mumbling under his breath. Skinner's 
eyebrow rose in surprise but he didn't comment. Fox ignored him 
happily, too busy crooning to his horse.

After a while the sheriff cleared his throat. "I think it's time to go 
back inside, Rascal," he said softly. "Come on." He so much wanted to 
reach out and help the boy down from his perch on top of the fence or 
offer him a piggy-back ride but he knew that Fox wouldn't want to be 
touched right now. He had reacted very strongly to that on occasion, 
panicking several times when someone had grabbed him without him 
knowing it would happen. Skinner knew there was some story behind this 
behavior but the boy wouldn't talk about it. "Come on, Rascal. It's 
getting cold, even with our warm coats on," Skinner gently coaxed 
instead.

Fox turned around to glare at the sheriff, ready to argue his case, to 
tell the man to go inside if his old bones weren't able to stand some 
chill, but he knew it would only prolong the inevitable. He sighed 
deeply, gave Spirit a kiss on the soft nose and wished him a "good 
night" before he jumped off the fence and purposefully walked back to 
the cabin, ignoring Skinner all the way.

XXXXX

Once inside Fox dropped his coat, leaving it in the middle of the 
floor, and made a bee-line to his alcove. Oh no, you don't, Skinner 
thought, picking up the boy's coat to hang it up next to his own. 
"Freeze, young man," he growled, congratulating himself inwardly when 
he saw that this particular tone of voice still worked. The boy 
stopped his movements but didn't turn around to face the man. Skinner 
knew his rascal was taunting him on purpose but he didn't take the 
bait. Somehow he knew that de-escalation was called for right now. 
Normally he would've ordered Fox to pick up his coat himself, probably 
even given him a swat or two for so obviously misbehaving, but he 
still wanted some answers from the boy before they went to bed and he 
knew it would be hard enough to get them without fighting the famous 
wildcat Fox could turn into.

"I'm tired. I'm going to bed," the boy announced, still not looking at 
the sheriff. After a long second, in which he waited for a reply that 
wasn't coming, he slowly continued to walk to his alcove.

"I said, freeze," Skinner said sternly. "We're not finished yet, young 
man. You still owe me an explanation. But first we will finish 
supper."

"I'm not hungry," came the immediate reply.

"And I don't care. I'll go reheat our meal. You can wait in the 
corner." That startled the boy because he turned around to look at the 
sheriff. Skinner smiled inwardly. Gotcha, he thought.

"The corner?" Fox repeated, confused.

"The corner," Skinner nodded, walking the boy to the exact spot he 
wanted him in. "There. Nose in the corner, like that. No slouching, no 
leaning against the walls. Wait there until I call you."

"But what am I supposed to do here?" Fox asked, turning around to look 
at the sheriff again.

Skinner patiently turned the boy's head back around. "You can think 
about the answers you're going to give me over supper," he replied 
sternly, giving Fox a swat on the butt. The boy yelped, more out of 
surprise than pain. "And before you ask, that was for your behavior in 
the last half hour. You can count yourself lucky that it's just one 
swat." The boy snorted, obviously not sharing that sentiment, but 
wisely refrained from commenting out loud.

XXXXX

Boy, was that boring!

Fox sighed, feeling utterly sorry for himself. The sheriff had never 
made him stand in the corner like that before though the boy had 
witnessed other students being ordered to do just that in school. He 
had already decided back then that this had to be one of the silliest 
punishments ever and damn, was he right! He sighed again. Why couldn't 
he do some more Reflection Time if Skinner wanted him occupied? That 
was at least fun – he could draw pictures in his notebook or write 
down what he felt or thought, now that he was able to write. Fox 
sighed again. Damn, that really was boring!

A few minutes later Skinner came back out of the kitchen, carrying two 
steamy bowls of stew. "Okay, you can come out of the corner now, 
Rascal. Let's eat," he said softly, sitting down at the table. Fox 
sighed in relief, happy to be allowed to do something else besides 
staring at the wall even if it meant sharing supper with the sheriff. 
He said down and grabbed his spoon listlessly. He *was* hungry but he 
wasn't in the mood to eat really. And besides, that piece of paper on 
the table, the one that had caused him to run out of the cabin in the 
first place, was still laying there, patiently waiting, mocking him. 
Fox just knew that Skinner wouldn't leave this alone...

And he was right. After finishing supper in silence Skinner leaned 
back and looked at the boy. "So, Rascal," he began, nodding at the 
note on the table. "Care to elaborate now?"

Fox stared into his empty bowl, swallowing nervously. No, he didn't 
want to elaborate. Wasn't that obvious? He took a deep breath and 
tried to bluff his way out of the situation. Standing up, he grabbed 
the dirty dishes. "I'll go take care of these now," he explained but 
Skinner shook his head.

"Sit down, Rascal. The dishes can wait. This is more important." He 
waved the note in the air. Fox slumped back down on his chair, 
pouting. "Listen, Rascal, I just want to understand," Skinner 
continued, despair creeping in his voice. The boy looked up in 
surprise. He hadn't expected *that* reaction. "Don't you want to 
explain why John Byers would write me a note like this?"

The boy crossed his arms defiantly over his chest, pouting some more. 
Finally he realized that he wouldn't be allowed to get up before he 
had said *some*thing so he snapped, "You sent me to school to learn 
how to read and write. Now I *can* read and write. I even know my 
numbers. I don't need to go to school anymore."

"But of course you do," Skinner replied, obviously stunned by that 
explanation. "Listen, William, being able to read and write isn't all 
you need to know. There's so much more. And you are such a bright boy! 
I thought you loved learning new things. I thought you enjoyed going 
to school."

Fox blinked angry tears away and stared at his hands that were 
twisting in his lap. He *did* enjoy going to school, he had to admit. 
At least he liked meeting Alex and Cal and Lily there. And he did like 
learning new things. But it was all so *boring* now. They just didn't 
learn anything *important* - heck, he already knew everything he 
needed to know to survive. He still waited to see Byers explain to his 
students how to make fire or how to skin a rabbit. What good did it to 
know the name of some man titled "President"? It boggled the mind.

And besides, the longer he stayed here the slimmer the chances were of 
finding his sister. He wasted precious time in school – he could earn 
much needed money in the Scully store, he could finally find his gun 
which Skinner still held hidden somewhere and he could go and look for 
his sister before it was too late!

To top it all off, the days grew shorter and shorter. Fox hated to be 
inside; he needed the fresh air and open space to run around in, but 
he was cooped up all day in school and had hardly any time to spend 
outside before Skinner ordered him into the cabin. The big man kept 
saying it was too dangerous to stay outside after dark though Fox 
didn't know *what* was supposed to be so dangerous. He had spent many 
nights outside – alone, no less – and nothing bad had happened. Broad 
daylight could be way more dangerous, he thought morosely, blinking 
back more tears when he remembered what terrible things had happened 
to him in the past.

"Rascal?" Skinner gently prompted, bringing the boy out of his 
reverie.

"I don't know why you got this note," Fox snapped angrily. "And I 
don't care!"

"I don't believe that's true," the sheriff replied softly. "You're 
such a smart boy, Rascal. I don't understand why your grades are so 
bad all of a sudden." He waved the teacher's note around again. "John 
doesn't understand it, either. He says there's absolutely no reason. 
You seem to understand everything that is taught. You just don't seem 
to *want* to understand it." Skinner shook his head, confused, trying 
to make sense of this new development.

Fox smirked inwardly. Yup, he was pretty clever indeed. When he had 
realized that Skinner wouldn't just take him out of school he had 
decided to become so bad that they would have to let him go. Since he 
usually knew the correct answers it was easy enough for him to give 
wrong ones. He still remembered rather vividly the shocked look on 
Byers' face when he had insisted on the fact that horses loved to eat 
meat. Unfortunately he hadn't been kicked out of school yet but he was 
sure that it was only a matter of time until Byers lost his patience. 
Once he wasn't going to school anymore he had more time to earn money 
which he needed to find his sister. Also, he couldn't stand *not* 
being outside! He was slowly going crazy watching the glistening 
winter sun through the windows while he was sitting in school, bored 
out of his mind.

Fox was actually pretty proud of his little scheme. But he wasn't 
going to tell Skinner any of that.

"Look, Rascal, if you're having any problems at school you can talk to 
John Byers. Or come talking to me. Or Maggie Scully. I don't mind. 
Just please don't give up, okay? I don't want you to produce one good 
grade after another. I just want you to give your best. That's all I'm 
asking of you, Rascal." Skinner shuddered thinking of poor little 
Jeffrey Spender who regularly got punished for grades that were not 
meeting his father's standards. Which pretty much meant anything below 
an A. He never wanted that to happen to his rascal. For Skinner joy 
was an important part of learning, and being forced to excel at 
anything was the best way to kill that joy in his opinion. "You know, 
when I was in school I was so bad at math I still don't know how I 
passed my tests," he confided, chuckling. "But my father saw that I 
was trying really hard and that was all he asked of me." Skinner 
thought this little anecdote would ease the tension between him and 
the boy a bit but of course he was once again mistaken.

Fox jumped up, glaring at the sheriff. "I don't care! And you're not 
my father! You can't force me to do anything! I hate school! And I 
hate you!" He ran into his alcove, pulling on the curtain that 
separated it from the main room so hard that Skinner feared it would 
rip to pieces. Then he threw himself down on his bed, sobbing quietly. 
He felt like a prisoner here. He wanted to go find his sister, damn 
it. It had been too long already. How was he ever going to find her?

He turned around, wanting to look out of the window Skinner had 
installed just for him, but he wasn't even able to see the stars 
because it was too cloudy. Fox sobbed again, loudly this time. Even 
nature didn't like him anymore. He needed to see the stars at night! 
They were the only thing that gave him a little piece of the outside 
world - the thing he craved for the most, and the thing that was also 
mostly denied him at the moment.

XXXXX

Skinner stared at the closed curtain the same way he had stared at the 
closed door about an hour ago. He really didn't understand the boy 
anymore. He just couldn't make any headway, no matter what he tried. 
The boy was constantly antsy, he had a bad case of cabin fever even 
though he was allowed outside – heck, he spent most of his time *not* 
in the cabin! Skinner knew that Fox loved exploring the countryside 
and he tried to give him enough time to do so on a daily basis but 
between school, homework, his duties in and around the cabin and an 
early sunset there wasn't much he could do. And anyway, there still 
had to be a reason why the boy suddenly brought home such bad grades. 
The sheriff had seen the pure anguish on the boy's face and he wanted 
to hug and cuddle him to make it all better but he knew that he 
wouldn't be allowed near his rascal right now. Listening to the sobs 
coming out of the alcove nearly broke his heart but the best thing, 
the *only* thing, he could do now was to leave Fox alone. He had 
learned the hard way that he needed to be patient, needed to wait 
until the boy was ready and came to him out of his own volition.

He really was like a wild animal, Skinner thought unhappily while he 
carried the dirty dishes into the small kitchen. The boy really needed 
to be lured close with patience and love. One false move and you 
scared him off for good...

XXXXX

Skinner tended to the fire, making sure to stoke it so it would keep 
burning until the next morning. It was the only source of warmth in 
the cabin and it turned incredibly chilly once the fire was out. 
Normally he would leave the door to his bedroom open, just like Fox 
left the curtain open, to let the warmth circulate the entire cabin.

The sheriff had decided to stay up late to make sure that the boy 
wouldn't suddenly decide to run away – he still remembered vividly the 
night when he had found his rascal on the porch. Granted, the boy 
hadn't run away then but he was still outside and it would be way too 
chilly for that now. Skinner feared that Fox would do something 
stupid, agitated as he was, so he stayed up and read in his book until 
he was sure that the boy was sleeping.

Before he went to bed himself he poked his head in the alcove, 
watching Fox twisting and turning fitfully in his bed. Skinner slowly 
walked up to him and tucked him in, making sure that his bare feet 
were warm, before he gently brushed a lock of long hair off his 
forehead. Fox settled immediately, snuggling into his covers, sighing 
softly. The sheriff smiled sadly, pained to see that the adorable boy 
he had grown to love still existed but only made an appearance when 
the wildcat was sleeping. He hoped that whatever was causing Fox so 
much grief would leave the boy alone so that they could all go back to 
their normal lives again.

He left the curtain open to ensure that his rascal wouldn't grow cold 
during the night, murmured, "sweet dreams, little Rascal" and went to 
bed himself.

XXXXX

When Fox woke up the next morning, he couldn't believe his eyes. 
Something strange was going on outside! He sat up straight in bed, 
then knee-walked to the window to have a closer look. No doubt about 
it, this definitely *was* strange!

There were thousands of little white fluffy pieces happily dancing 
away in the wind, blowing this way and that, until they finally came 
to rest on the ground which was already covered with a thick white 
blanket. Fox stared at the unusual display with his mouth opened. He 
had never seen anything like this before! He tentatively reached out a 
hand to touch the window pane which had started to frost at the edges, 
then he pressed his nose against the glass in hopes of discovering 
where exactly all these tiny bits came from. They seemed to fall 
straight from the heavens, just like raindrops, though they made no 
sound at all. Heck, the entire landscape, including trees and bushes, 
was covered with the stuff and it looked as if it was already at least 
two inches high! There was a lot of white, making outside look lighter 
and friendlier than Fox was used to in the early winter mornings.

Unfortunately his window was a simple pane in the wall, not one of the 
fancy ones you could open, so he wasn't able to touch the fluffy 
little things that were elegantly floating towards the ground. But it 
was something new for the boy and he just had to investigate it! The 
stuff looked like tiny balls of cotton or very small bits of fur, and 
Fox imagined the thick layer on the ground to be just as comfy as his 
Rose's wonderfully fluffy coverlet she had made herself a long time 
ago. He had snuggled into it once in front of her fireplace in the 
sitting room and he had absolutely loved every minute of it. This 
wondrous thing outside looked just like the coverlet. Fox asked 
himself if it was also just as soft – and there was only one way to 
find out!

Sheriff Skinner just entered the main room from the kitchen when 
something that roughly resembled his rascal shot out of the alcove and 
towards the cabin's door. The big man grinned – he had already 
expected the boy to be excited about the first snow this winter. 
Unfortunately Fox didn't stop at the door but seemed to want to run 
outside, wearing nothing but his nightshirt. Skinner's friendly, "Good 
mor-" was cut off when he saw the door being flung open. "Hey, where 
do you think you're going?" he yelled, quickly placing his cup of 
coffee and the glass of milk he had been carrying on the table before 
he ran after the boy. He heard a soft thud and a muffled "ouch" before 
he made it outside. The sight that greeted him made him bite the 
inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.

Fox had apparently thrown himself head-first at the ground because 
Skinner could see the perfect outline of his rascal's body, arms and 
legs outstretched, in the snow. The boy turned around to lie on his 
back, staring wonderingly at the sky, one hand stretching upwards to 
catch a few stray snowflakes. One flake landed on the tip of his nose, 
tickling him when it started to melt, and the boy giggled happily. 
Whatever this was, it was no coverlet – or fur, for that matter. The 
stuff felt weird, heck, it even *tasted* weird, kind of blandly, and 
it made the most peculiar noise – something between creaking and 
squishing. And damn it, it was cold!

"Up, Rascal," Skinner said, walking to the boy. "I don't want you to 
catch a cold. You can play in the snow later." He bent down and 
grabbed Fox under his arms, gently lifting him up and carrying him 
back inside because he didn't want the boy to run around in the snow 
with his bare feet.

"Look," Fox said excitedly, pointing over Skinner's shoulder at the 
place where he had thrown himself. The sheriff turned around, 
chuckling.

"Two perfect little snow-rascals," he commented when he saw the two 
outlines the boy had left behind. "Why am I not surprised that you 
like playing in the snow, hmm?" He ruffled his rascal's slightly damp 
hair, glad that the boy seemed to be in a good mood today. The sheriff 
didn't know if he could stand to deal with the sulking wildcat any 
longer.

Skinner set Fox on his feet once they were back in the cabin. "You. 
Wash up. Get dressed. Eat breakfast. After that you can go back 
outside," he ordered, closing the door and stomping his feet to get 
rid of any residual snow.

"But I wanna-"

"No, Rascal."

The boy pouted but realized that he wasn't going anywhere while the 
big man stood in the way. Damn! He wanted to explore this thing called 
snow a little more thoroughly! Who knew how long it would stay! 
Another surreptitious look at the sheriff convinced Fox that he had to 
obey so he sighed heavily and made his way back to his alcove.

XXXXX

Even though Skinner served porridge Fox hardly acknowledged his 
favorite breakfast. He wolfed down the entire bowl, hardly swallowing 
before he shoved in the next spoonful. The sheriff gently admonished 
him to slow down twice before he finally growled at him more sternly. 
That got the boy's attention and he did eat more slowly though he 
couldn't help glaring at the big man reproachfully.

As soon as the bowl was empty and the last drop of milk was swallowed 
Fox jumped up and ran to the door. A strong arm curled around his 
waist though, pulling him back until he sat on the sheriff's lap. "And 
where do you think you're going?" Skinner asked, chuckling. The boy 
huffed. Wasn't it obvious?

"I wanna go outside and..."

"Didn't you forget something, Rascal?" Skinner replied good-naturedly. 
He leaned in close to whisper in the boy's ear, "Dishes."

Fox sighed deeply. "You're an old meanie," he announced pouting. "You 
said I could go outside after eating my breakfast!"

"Since when do I have to list your duties, Rascal? I thought it was 
pretty obvious that you would have to do them anyway." Skinner hugged 
the boy in his arms, tickling his ribcage. Fox squirmed and tried not 
to giggle. "The sooner you're done with your chores the sooner you can 
go outside," he reasoned.

"Oh, all right," Fox mumbled, climbing off the sheriff's lap and 
grabbing the dirty dishes. Then he stared at the man and solemnly told 
him, "You're still an old meanie, though," before he walked into the 
kitchen.

Skinner chuckled again and shook his head. He was glad that the boy 
seemed to be acting normally again. Maybe his rascal really just 
needed to let off some steam. He knew that Fox loved the outdoors so 
being forced to spend a lot of time indoors naturally had him climbing 
the walls. Maybe playing in the snow would exhaust him enough to stop 
throwing tantrums now.

The big man got up and decided to help the boy along by making his 
bed. Usually they both made their own beds though Fox had argued that 
it was totally unnecessary because, after all, "I'm gonna sleep in it 
again anyway" but a few well-placed swats had ended that particular 
shouting match rather quickly. If Skinner made the boy's bed as well 
his rascal could run outside sooner and he wanted to give that kid as 
much time in the snow as possible.

The sheriff finished his work in the alcove and was just walking into 
his bedroom when Fox emerged from the kitchen. "Don't forget to wear 
your coat, Rascal," Skinner said, smiling. The boy looked at him, 
bewildered, glanced in the alcove and saw the already made bed before 
he broke out into a huge grin.

"Thank you, Old Meanie," he exclaimed before he grabbed his coat and 
ran outside, leaving a broadly smiling sheriff behind.

XXXXX

The first thing Fox realized was that Spirit was going absolutely 
crazy in the snow. The little horse was jumping up and down, tossing 
head and tail, whinnying loudly. The boy ran up to his friend calling 
him softly. Spirit stopped his dance of madness and trotted closer to 
the fence to greet Fox. The boy suddenly saw that the horse wasn't 
scared or even terrified – quite the contrary, he was having the time 
of his life in the snow, trying to chase the snowflakes. Fox laughed 
and held out his hand to catch some snowflakes as well. Spirit shook 
his head, trying to get rid of all the snow in his long mane, before 
he started to run around the pasture again. The boy saw that the 
sheriff had already taken care of the little horse – there was food 
and water in a sheltered corner where the snow wasn't able to fall.

Fox smiled a little. Damn, he really liked the gruff sheriff. He liked 
living here with him and he would love to stay here with him. And that 
was exactly what was making him leave this place even harder. But he 
had to go away sooner or later if he wanted to find his sister and she 
was still the most important part of his life. Fox sighed. He guessed 
that the big man liked him as well even though he *was* stern. And the 
boy really could've done without all those rules and especially those 
spankings! He wanted to trust that man, he really did, but experience 
had taught him that he shouldn't trust anybody, especially not people 
like Skinner. He sighed again. Somehow he knew that Skinner was 
different to everyone he had ever met though he couldn't really say 
why. And what good did it do to stay here longer than necessary – he 
had already dawdled far too long. Stupid winter with its short days 
and long nights! And now the snow to top it off! Fox had to admit that 
this snow thing was fun but he instinctively knew that it would make 
looking for his sister almost impossible. And if he was really honest 
with himself he didn't even want to leave this place. Not really. He 
felt at home here. But what was home without his sister? She was his 
only family! And what held him in Independence? Was there one true 
reason not to leave as soon as he had enough money and his gun back? 
Fox sighed one last time. He realized that he would have to bide his 
time now anyway what with the snow and the freezing winter nights. He 
decided to give the whole issue some serious thought until he could 
leave – if he was able to come up with one good reason to stay, he 
would. But he couldn't really imagine that there was one – nothing was 
more important than family.

The boy shook his head, trying to clear his mind. No need to be all 
depressed when he couldn't do anything about the situation anyway. No, 
he decided to have some fun while he could and exploring the whole 
snow thing had top priority. He had heard people talk about snow 
before but he had never experienced it himself so the whole affair was 
incredibly exciting to him.

Fox turned around to the yard, ignoring his wildly bucking horse, and 
saw his footprints leading to the fence. He grinned. Footprints! 
Great! He could do a lot of things with footprints! He carefully 
jumped to a corner of the yard which was still virginally covered with 
snow and started to slowly walk down a straight line, placing one foot 
directly in front of the other. After a little while he had written 
his name in big letters on the ground that way and he grinned broadly. 
That reminded him of the first word he had ever written on his slate 
in school – FOX. Damn, he had been proud of himself back then! His 
Rose had nearly crushed him with all the hugs and kisses when he had 
shown her the slate. Even the sheriff had given him a proud cuddle! 
The boy stood in the middle of the yard, at one end of the 'X', not 
sure what to do next. This snow stuff seemed to have endless 
possibilities but he wasn't sure what exactly he could do with it. 
Maybe Alex would know. Yes, he decided. He had to go find Alex.

At that moment the sheriff stepped out of the cabin, looking for the 
boy. When he saw what Fox had done he grinned broadly. "Hey, that's 
great, Rascal," he praised. "But you do know that it'll be gone in no 
time, don't you? The way the snow is falling right now..." The big man 
pointed at the heavy snowflakes swirling around in the air. "See?" He 
nodded at the place where Fox had thrown himself in the snow not an 
hour earlier. His outline was all but gone.

Fox shrugged, trying to put up a brave front. "I don't mind. I'll just 
do it again," he informed the sheriff.

"Be my guest, Rascal, but first you go and grab your books. We'll 
leave in five minutes." Skinner purposefully walked to the stable, 
obviously in order to get Buck ready. Fox gaped at the man.

"What?" he croaked, not believing his ears.

The sheriff stopped and turned around. "I do have a job in town, you 
know," he commented, chuckling. "And I believe you have to be in 
school in half an hour." He walked inside the stable, leaving a 
frustrated Fox behind.

"School?" the boy groused. "School? Why would I want to go to school? 
I have to find Alex. I have to find out what I can do with all this 
snow! I can't go to school!" He kept up his mumbling, kicking at the 
thick layer of snow in front of him listlessly, covering himself with 
the powdery stuff quite thoroughly.

"You'd better wait for me ready and set to go when I come back 
outside, Rascal," Skinner's deep voice floated out of the stable. 
There was no mistaking what would happen to him – or, more precisely, 
to his butt – if he wasn't so Fox huffed one last time before he 
stormed into the cabin to get his school equipment.

XXXXX

The ride to town was spent in silence. Fox was gloomily staring into 
the distance, one hand outstretched to catch any stray snowflakes. 
School! How stupid was that? Since Skinner was bringing him to school 
he couldn't even play hooky – the other kids would see him and 
probably rat on him. At least Donkey Donny would. And Alex was 
probably already waiting in front of the school house. He was always 
so eager to go to school it made Fox want to throw up. Even if he had 
managed to escape the sheriff's clutches he probably wouldn't have 
succeeded in talking Alex into missing a day of school. He was such a 
goody two shoes. Fox sighed. Alex could be *so* boring at times!

Skinner stopped Buck in front of the school and dismounted. Fox stared 
at all the children already waiting to be let inside the building, 
among them Alex, Lily and Cal. They all smiled and waved at him, 
obviously happy to see their friend. Fox huffed again before he jumped 
off Buck, pointedly ignoring the sheriff's helping hand.

As soon as he had walked around the big horse Fox felt a soft thud in 
the middle of his chest and he looked down in surprise. There was a 
round white spot on his coat which slowly started to melt. The boy 
frowned then looked up at his friends. Lily stood between her brother, 
Cal, and Alex, all three of them poising snowballs in their hands. 
"Snowball fight!" Cal yelled happily, throwing another ball and 
missing Fox by mere inches. Buck wasn't too thrilled when the snowball 
hit his flank and he snorted angrily.

The next snowball hit the back of Skinner's hat causing it to fall off 
his head. The big man turned around to look at the children, one 
eyebrow raised in what he hoped was a stern expression. He stared at 
the three possible culprits, Cal, Lily and Alex, and placed his hands 
on his hips. Next to him, Fox snickered softly. Somehow the sheriff 
was glad that his rascal's mood had improved and he gladly endured a 
few snowballs thrown his way if that was the end result, but he *had* 
a reputation to uphold so he glowered at the three children. "Well," 
he growled. "Which one of you threw that snowball?"

Alex immediately pointed at Lily. "She did it," he exclaimed nodding 
vigorously, his eyes huge and oh-so-innocent. Lily gaped at him in 
disbelief and Fox, who had witnessed the 'attack' and the real 
culprit, was about to yell bloody murder. He was stopped by Skinner 
who purposefully stepped forward, hands still on his hips, stern look 
firmly in place.

Lily took a half-step back when the sheriff stopped in front of her. 
She had always had a soft spot for the big man and couldn't help but 
be all flustered now that his whole attention was focused on her. 
"Well, Miss Lily," Skinner murmured. "I think the two of us have a 
problem." Lily swallowed nervously, convinced that he was kidding but 
not absolutely certain that he really play-acted. Her mouth opened and 
closed but no sound came out. She blushed furiously.

Suddenly Skinner's right arm shot out making her jump back again. His 
hand, however, fisted into the front of Alex's coat and he lifted the 
boy up and into the air before anyone had realized what had happened. 
"I think," the sheriff repeated, eyes still locked with Lily's, "that 
we have a *big* problem." Then he proceeded to manhandle Alex until he 
held him against his chest, one strong arm curled around the boy's 
waist holding him off the ground, both of them facing the girl. "So, 
Lily, do you think he'll confess or do I have to torture it out of 
him?" Lily grinned broadly while Alex hung limply in the big man's 
arms. The boy sighed forlornly but before he could say anything the 
sheriff leaned close to his ear and chuckled, "Now, where was that 
secret spot again...?" before he proceeded to unerringly find the spot 
behind the boy's ear where he was the most ticklish. He soon had Alex 
laughing and giggling hysterically, thrashing in Skinner's grasp, 
yelling "I yield!" over and over again.

Skinner only stopped torturing Alex when he felt something hit him 
squarely in the back – another snowball. He turned around, Alex still 
in his arms, to stare at Fox who stood next to Buck, a solemn look on 
his face. "He did it," the boy stated, jerking his thumb over his 
shoulder in the horse's direction, the posterboy of innocence. "Are 
you going to lift him up and tickle him, too?"

"Well, I might give it a try," Skinner said, slowly walking over to 
Buck, Alex tucked under his arm like a ragdoll. "So, you attacked me 
from behind, did you, boy?" he asked the horse that merely stared back 
at the sheriff with a very bored expression in his dark eyes. "Well, 
that has to be punished, of course." He nodded solemnly to himself 
before he looked at Alex. "Right?" he asked the boy.

"Absolutely," Alex agreed, nodding. Then he grinned at his friend. 
"Well done, Fox," he said before he slapped his hands over his mouth. 
"Oops, I'm sorry. I guess I shouldn't have said that, huh?" His grin 
turned into a smirk when the sheriff looked at Fox, eyebrows raised in 
mock surprise.

"It was *you*," he exclaimed. "And I had almost punished poor Buck!" 
The sheriff set Alex back on his feet and made a grab for Fox. The boy 
was too fast though and escaped the clutching hands with a giggle. The 
next thing he felt was a thud on his back and he realized that Skinner 
had thrown a snowball at him. The big man was poising another one in 
his hand. "Retaliation!" the sheriff exclaimed dramatically before he 
was covered by dozens of snowballs thrown by various children. He 
theatrically collapsed on the ground, making strange gurgling noises, 
the hand with his lone snowball still in the air as if he'd be able to 
defend himself from immediate death that way.

After a few seconds he was surrounded by laughing children and 
suddenly he had two slender bodies draped over his broad one; Fox and 
Alex, both laughing happily. "Do you yield?" Alex asked, one snowball 
raised menacingly.

"I surrender," Skinner wheezed, hugging both boys. "I'm getting too 
old for this," he mumbled to himself. "Somebody shoot me, please." 
Alex grinned and climbed off the sheriff, offering him a hand up. Fox 
was still lying on top of the big man, though, smiling shyly at the 
sheriff. Skinner's heart almost stopped when he saw the tender look in 
the boy's eyes. He had missed this part of his rascal so much that he 
had almost convinced himself that it had never really existed. After a 
long moment the smile was gone and Fox scrambled to his feet. With the 
help of both boys Skinner got up as well. "Thank you, Rascal. Thanks, 
Alex," he said, still a little out of breath. Then he looked at the 
rest of the children and, using a stern tone of voice, informed them, 
"You are all under arrest for assault with a deadly weapon." He 
grinned when he saw that they all giggled and laughed. Lily guiltily 
dropped her snowball and smoothed down her hair, smiling at Skinner 
just as shyly as Fox had mere seconds before.

The clearing of a throat made them all turn towards the school house. 
"I see you're behaving like a real adult, Walt," John Byers commented, 
smiling.

The sheriff tugged on his coat and put on his – slightly damp – hat. 
"Yes, I am," he replied solemnly. "If you'll excuse me, John, I have 
sheriff-things to do now. Lots of important sheriff-things." He raised 
his chin, daring the other man to so much as grin, and grabbed Buck's 
reins. Then he turned to Fox and ruffled his hair. "Have fun, Rascal," 
he said softly. "And try to give your best, okay?" The boy's entire 
demeanor had changed dramatically again in the last minute and he 
glared at the big man balefully. "You will continue to go to school, 
Rascal. That discussion is over. Now, you're only making this hard on 
yourself. Go inside, learn some interesting new things and behave. 
I'll see you this afternoon at Maggie's, okay?" He smiled at the boy 
one last time before he purposefully walked away.

Fox stared at the sheriff's back thinking murderous thoughts. Alex 
gently tugged on his sleeve. "Come on, Fox," he said coaxingly. With 
the help of Lily, the boy managed to finally guide his best friend 
inside.

XXXXX

Maggie Scully opened her door and barely managed to stifle her 
laughter. "What happened to you?" she asked before she burst out 
laughing.

"I was viciously attacked by a horde of teenaged snowball throwers. I 
never stood a chance," Skinner replied mournfully, wiping the remnants 
of the snowball fight off his coat.

"Well, come on in, Walter. Before they attack again." Maggie snickered 
softly before she closed the door behind the sheriff. "So, and now you 
came here so I could feel sorry for you?" she smiled.

"That, too," Skinner nodded with a smile, then he grew serious. 
"Actually, I came here because I need your advice."

Maggie's eyebrow rose. "Oh? About what?"

"My Rascal," the sheriff sighed.

"Well, you've come to the right person then," Maggie said, patting the 
big man's arm reassuringly. "Why don't you go sit down in front of the 
fireplace to get warm and dry and I'll bring you a nice cup of hot 
coffee."

"Deal!" Skinner walked to the sitting room but turned around at the 
door. "Maggie? Thank you," he added, receiving another reassuring 
smile.

XXXXX

Skinner looked around the sitting room, smiling ruefully. Just about 
everything in this room reminded him of the boy. The chest of drawers 
behind which a picture frame had fallen. Fox had retrieved the frame, 
accepting a plate of waffles as reward in return – the first meal the 
boy had eaten since they had met. The grandfather's clock which had 
intrigued the hell out of the boy the first time he had seen it. The 
sheriff turned around and stared at the dining table and the chair his 
rascal always sat in. 'His' chair. Skinner sighed unhappily. No matter 
where he looked, everything reminded him of his rascal. His Rascal. 
The boy that had smiled at him so shyly only a few minutes ago. That 
was his Rascal. Not the boy with whom he had shared a cabin for the 
last couple of weeks.

Maggie entered with coffee and cookies. Skinner smiled broadly. 
Cookies – Maggie's secret weapon against dark moods. She sat down, 
returning the smile and asked, "So, what's on your mind, Walter?"

Skinner looked around again, remembering all those wonderful 
'rascal-moments', and sighed forlornly. "I think I...I seem to...I 
guess I'm losing him."

"Losing him?"

"I don't know how else to describe it. My Rascal...he's not living 
with me anymore. The boy I take care of right now...he's not my 
Rascal." Skinner looked up at his friend, desperately trying to 
explain what he meant. Maggie's face was a careful mask of neutrality. 
She apparently expected some more information before she commented. 
Finally, unable to come up with another way to describe his feelings, 
Skinner told her about the changes the boy had gone through over the 
last few weeks, ending with the problems at school.

Maggie nodded. "I was already wondering," she murmured. "A few days 
ago he was doing his homework here and I saw that he didn't solve a 
math problem correctly. It was a rather easy equation so I was 
surprised. When I pointed it out to him, Fox just grinned at me and 
said, 'yeah, I know.' I thought at the time that this was part of a 
prank for John Byers. I mean, Fox was always very good at solving 
logic problems..." She frowned, obviously only now realizing that 
something was really wrong.

"He refuses to talk to me about the bad grades," Skinner said. "The 
way he reacted last night...I've never seen him like this before." He 
shook his head in disbelief. "He just keeps picking fights with me for 
no apparent reason. No matter what I say or do, he's against it. I 
thought I had made so much headway with him by now. I mean, we were 
really close...or at least I thought we were..." Skinner's voice 
drifted off and he stared forlornly into the blazing fire. Maggie's 
heart broke when she saw her friend in such agony. "You know," he 
finally mumbled. "The only way to describe what he's doing is...he's 
pushing me away." Skinner sighed. "I really lost him. I lost my 
Rascal, and I don't know why. But he's been pushing me away for quite 
a while now, and I have no explanation for his behavior." He quickly 
wiped over his face before he looked at Maggie again. "Sorry," he said 
softly, trying to give her a smile, and failing miserably.

"Don't be, Walter. You have every right to be upset. I wish I knew how 
to help you." Maggie chewed on her lip thoughtfully, watching the 
sheriff while he stared at the fire again, one tear slowly making its 
way down his cheek. He didn't even seem to notice that he was crying. 
"You love him, don't you?" Maggie asked softly.

At first Skinner didn't even seem to have heard her. Then he turned 
around, a watery smile greeting her. Still, he refused to answer her 
question. Instead he said, "There's something else. His family." The 
big man sighed. "I was convinced that he was a run-away. So I tried to 
find his family, his parents. I asked around but nobody missed a boy 
that fit his description." The sheriff grew silent, collecting his 
thoughts. "There also wasn't any missing girl. You know, his alleged 
little sister." Maggie nodded; she had heard about Samantha. "I only 
knew about this sister because the boy reacted so strongly to Sam 
Krycek's first name. But I happily gathered every bit of information I 
could get. Still, no matter how much I searched I didn't come up with 
any missing person report. He was walking into town so he couldn't 
have come from that far away. But no town in the vicinity was missing 
a child. I asked the sheriffs about any dead families but there were 
no reports about that either." Skinner exchanged a look with his 
friend. "You know, I never really believed that his parents were dead. 
At least I didn't believe this at first. Now I don't know what to 
believe anymore. I mean, nothing seems to add up. I've tried to locate 
his family, dead or alive, but I came up with lots of dead ends. I've 
asked all strangers passing through town if they had heard of anything 
but they couldn't help me either."

Maggie moved to the couch and sat down next to Skinner. The sheriff 
smiled at her gratefully and squeezed her hand that was patting his 
shoulder reassuringly. "I think you've done a wonderful job up till 
now, Walter," she said softly.

The big man merely grunted. "Everytime I tried to find out more about 
his family he completely shut himself off. I mean, I'm only trying to 
help him! He refuses to tell me anything. All I know is that he calls 
himself 'Fox' and that his birthname is William. Then there's the 
little sister called Samantha. And the dead parents." Skinner sighed. 
"Not much to go on. I don't even know if the parents were killed or 
died of natural courses. Or when they died. *If* they are indeed 
dead." The sheriff shook his head. "I just can't believe that he 
doesn't really remember his last name. I mean, I *am* proud of the 
fact that he chose to be listed under my name in the school roster 
but..." he stopped, blushing slightly. Maggie thought that the big man 
looked rather cute at the moment but the situation was too grave to 
make a wise-crack. "You know, that's the next big problem," Skinner 
added.

"What is?"

"At first I really tried my best to find his family. Now I can't be 
sure anymore." When Maggie gave him another confused look, Skinner 
said, "The boy really grows on you, you know."

Maggie smiled and nodded. "Oh, does he ever," she commented.

Skinner smiled in return. "You were right, you know. I think I do love 
him," he admitted softly. "I never really saw myself as father 
material even though I took care of those two boys...the rancher's 
sons...you know, where I used to work." Maggie nodded and urged him to 
go on. "At first I only wanted to make sure that the boy wouldn't 
cause any trouble. That's why I took him in. And somehow he turned 
into my Rascal." The sheriff smiled ruefully. "And then, all of a 
sudden, he had captured my heart. He's as close to a son as I'll ever 
have and I'm not sure that I really do what I *should* do to find his 
family. I don't think I could give him away again once I find his 
parents." The big man looked at Maggie in despair.

"Don't be ridiculous, Walter," she admonished. "You are a wonderful 
sheriff. You're doing a great job and I *know* you did everything in 
your power to find Fox's family. I don't know why he won't talk about 
them more. Believe me, I've tried to find out more about them, too. I 
thought that maybe he would at least open up to *me* but he 
immediately closed down. He retreats into his little shell, afraid 
that someone might hurt him. I've told him that I'm only trying to 
help but he refuses to believe me."

The sheriff nodded. He's had those encounters with Fox as well. "I 
know. He's not helping. At first I thought he refuses to cooperate 
exactly *because* he was a run-away. I mean, I thought there was a 
reason why he ran away, so telling me freely where I can find his 
parents would be counterproductive." The big man shrugged. "Now I 
believe that he isn't a run-away, that there really aren't any parents 
to contact. Or at least I think I believe. Maybe it's just wishful 
thinking on my part." He frowned, obviously confused. "But even if 
that is so, one thing remains. His sister. He keeps telling everyone 
that he wants to find his sister. Why doesn't he at least tell me more 
about her? I could help him find her! At least the chances are better 
that *I* find her than when he goes off on a wild goose chase all 
alone..."

"I think he told us the truth all along, Walter," Maggie softly 
replied. "I think his parents are really dead. I also think that he 
does have a sister. I don't know if she is someplace save or not. 
Maybe they were in an orphanage and he escaped and now he wants to 
free her. That might explain why he's not telling you anything. He 
might think you would send him back."

"I wouldn't." Skinner stared at Maggie with a wild intensity in his 
eyes she had never seen before. From the shocked expression on his 
face a moment later it was obvious that he was surprised about this 
outburst as well. "I mean, I know I should but I don't think I could," 
he stuttered. Then he sighed. "See? That's what I mean. I don't know 
anymore if I'm actually doing everything in my power to help the boy. 
I seem to be focusing on his stay with me..."

"If you ask me, you have done everything in your power and beyond, 
Walter," Maggie gently offered. Skinner snorted but she unerringly 
continued, "The only thing you can now do is wait until Fox decides to 
help you help him."

The sheriff thought about that for a minute. "The only problem is that 
as of lately he doesn't seem to want me to help him anymore. He never 
wanted me to help him find his sister, Maggie, we both know that. But 
for the last couple of weeks he's also been pushing me away. 
Forcefully. I've tried everything. I'm at my wit's end. I don't know 
what else to do!" He looked at her with despair.

"The only thing you can do is be there for him, Walter," she softly 
said.

"I *am* there for him, Maggie. *I* haven't changed. *He* has changed. 
I know there's still my Rascal hidden somewhere inside that boy but 
he's hardly ever coming out. My Rascal only makes an appearance when 
something unexpected happens, like the first snow this morning. I was 
so happy to see the broad smile on his face I could've wept. And then, 
all of a sudden, he seems to remember that he's not supposed to *be* 
my Rascal anymore and he turns again into that morose and sulking boy 
that pushes me away." Skinner shook his head, trying to make sense of 
all this. "So much has changed lately. The little things that were 
special. I think the thing that I miss most is the fact that he won't 
let me read to him anymore. You know, we used to cuddle up in the 
rocking chair in front of the fire, with him curled up on my lap, and 
I would read him a bedtime story. We always ended a day like this. It 
had become a real tradition! That was my favorite time of the day. But 
now he refuses to come close." Skinner sighed forlornly. "I know he's 
really too old for bedtime stories but I don't think it has anything 
to do with him regarding this as too childish. He never has in the 
past. I think it's part of his pushing me away."

"Fox used to love being read to. I know," Maggie softly commented. 
"And you're right, he never thought this as something childish." She 
smiled. "He's like a little kid with an ancient soul."

The sheriff smiled ruefully. He had thought the exact same thing 
himself quite often. He nodded. "I never knew I would miss this so 
much. I always regarded him as a wild animal..."

"One that has to be lured close with love and patience," Maggie 
offered, sharing a knowing look with the big man. "And you've done a 
wonderful job with this up till now, Walter."

"Thank you, Maggie," Skinner murmured, slightly embarrassed. "I know I 
have to be careful with the boy. I was patient and I've done my best 
to be loving and he did react to that in a very positive way. He did 
come closer to me. I don't know if he actually trusted me or not but 
at least he let me close to him. Still, I haven't changed my behavior 
at all and suddenly he pushes me away. I'm constantly afraid of him 
running away. I don't know what to do to prove to him that I'm there 
for him no matter what..."

"Walter," Maggie softly admonished. "You *are* there for him. That's 
all it takes. Everyone can see that you're there for him. And I think 
he knows it, too. I don't know why he's so skittish at the moment but 
I hope that this will change again over time. Just be patient, Walter. 
Keep loving him. That's what he needs. That's *all* he needs." She 
gave him a reassuring smile.

"Yeah," Skinner replied morosely. "But what if it isn't?"

XXXXX

Sheriff Skinner was making his round through town, contemplating what 
Maggie had told him earlier. It was easy to say to just be there for 
the boy – he *was*, dammit, he had been from the very start but it 
appeared that his rascal just didn't want his attention anymore. The 
big man was relieved that Maggie Scully was on his side, though. He 
had to admit that he was glad she thought he was doing a good job – 
for the most part, at least – and that the boy just needed some more 
time to adjust.

He let the whole orphanage theory run through his head. Damn, he had 
never even thought that this could have been it from the beginning! 
Some sheriff he was! Maybe Maggie was right; maybe the boy *had* run 
away from an orphanage. That would explain the dead parents and even 
the little sister that he "had to find"... Skinner thought about the 
way his rascal was reluctant to trust anyone, to share what was his, 
the way he wolfed down his food as if afraid someone else might take 
it away at any given moment... The big man didn't know much about 
orphanages but he had heard some horrific things. Surely most of them 
were exaggerated and surely most of these orphanages were a good place 
for these children...but what if his rascal had been in a place like 
this, his own personal hell? God, he couldn't chance sending him back! 
He wouldn't! But what if Samantha, the little sister, really was still 
in such a place?

Skinner decided to find out about any orphanages in the near vicinity 
and ask them about any missing children. He wouldn't mention his 
rascal, not giving out any description of the boy in case he actually 
*was* missing. He would merely ask about the kids and in case there 
really was a missing boy that sounded like Fox...well, if that really 
was the case he'd come up with something!

The big man stopped, surprised that his feet had brought him to the 
other side of Main Street, right across from the school house. A 
moment later, the door opened and a handful of children ran outside. 
Skinner smiled. He hadn't realized it was already past noon. He craned 
his neck, trying to find his rascal among the throng of students. It 
wasn't unusual for him to come here during recess, for no other reason 
than to say hello, and Skinner couldn't help but smile when he 
remembered the way his rascal usually bolted across Main Street to 
fling himself into the arms of his old meanie.

Fox finally exited the school house, following Alex and Lily. He 
looked around and almost immediately spotted the sheriff. The other 
children were too busy playing in the snow to notice the big man on 
the other side of the street but Fox saw him all right. He stopped on 
his way down the steps, staring. It broke the sheriff's heart to 
realize that he wouldn't be holding his little rascal in his arms 
today. The boy just looked at him calmly, measuring him up, trying to 
decipher what this impromptu visit could mean. Skinner so much wanted 
to just walk up to him, envelope him in a bear hug and hear that 
wonderful giggle the boy had but he knew that this was the only thing 
he should *not* do. He had learned the hard way to wait, to let the 
boy initiate any contact, only to react instead of act. He smiled at 
the boy hesitantly, not receiving any kind of reaction from the boy 
and then tipped his hat in way of greeting. He saw Fox nod once in 
return but that was all the reaction he got. Finally, sighing 
forlornly, Skinner turned around and walked towards his office to 
investigate the orphanages.

XXXXX

Fox stared after the retreating sheriff, torn between sorrow and 
anger. He had been surprised to see the big man obviously waiting for 
him though this wasn't that unusual. For a moment the boy had felt the 
urge to run up to Skinner, to be enveloped in those strong arms that 
made him feel safe, to tell him what he had learned in school... But 
then he remembered that he wanted to keep his distance, that he tried 
to slowly drive the man away so that leaving Independence in a few 
weeks would be easier. Fox sighed. Damn, he didn't *want* to leave, he 
liked it here, he liked the people he had met here, but family still 
came first and foremost and he only had his sister anymore and he 
needed to find the little girl. Besides, the fact that Skinner had 
waited for him in front of the school house after his recent bad 
behavior towards the sheriff only indicated one thing: The big man 
didn't want to say hello like he used to; he merely wanted to make 
sure that the boy had been in school. The fact that Fox had very 
adamantly stated that he hated school and that he wanted to quit was 
apparently reason enough for the sheriff to distrust him. The boy felt 
his hackles rising. So he doesn't trust me anymore, does he? he asked 
himself, not wanting to admit that even if that was Skinner's reason 
for showing up it was still the boy's fault and nobody else's that 
they felt the need to check up on him.

No. Looking at it objectively, the boy realized that Skinner's 
reaction was exactly what he had wanted. The sheriff hadn't tried to 
force himself on the boy; he had merely stood there, waiting to see 
what would happen. So okay, the big man seemed to have been slightly 
disappointed, even saddened, when he realized that Fox wouldn't come 
to him but that was to be expected. Fox nodded to himself. His 
constant withdrawal from any kind of affection the big man showed him 
was finally showing results. Skinner was retreating. Exactly what the 
boy had wanted.

Then why was it that he had this strange pain in his chest?

Fox was startled when a snowball hit his arm. "Come on," Alex yelled, 
waving another snowball. Lily, Cal and a few others were all lined up 
next to Alex, preparing for a good-natured snowball fight with a 
second group of children. Fox had been looking forward to playing in 
the snow. Somehow he didn't feel like playing anymore.

He shook his head. "Nah, I'll watch," he yelled back, trying not to 
show how sad he suddenly felt. He sat down on the steps to referee the 
fight but his thoughts kept drifting back to the sheriff. He angrily 
wiped away some stray tears.

Damn. Must be the cold wind blowing in his eyes.

XXXXX

One thing Fox had to admit was that he had actually fun in school that 
day. John Byers had decided to spend the day teaching about snow, how 
it was created, what you could do with it, the way it melted and 
turned into water again. The children learned a poem about a snowman, 
were encouraged to draw pictures of a snowy landscape and intently 
listened to a short story about a group of people caught in a 
snowstorm that Byers read to them.

The teacher was pretty pleased with himself when he realized that this 
change of subjects brought out the 'old' Fox again. The boy was avidly 
listening, asking questions, giving answers, participating. The slight 
mood change after recess confused the bearded man for a while but Fox 
seemed to catch himself rather quickly when Byers told the children to 
draw a picture so he wasn't really concerned. He knew that Fox was 
mercurial at times so he thought that the boy just didn't want to come 
back inside after spending some time playing in the snow during 
recess.

Fox even looked forward to the extra hour he and Alex always spent 
with Byers after regular school hours to 'catch up' with the older 
children. Byers insisted on teaching some of that 'boring but 
necessary stuff' but Fox readily listened to the history lesson 
because the teacher had promised to also show and explain the boys how 
water could turn to ice. Fox loved that kind of stuff – he was sure 
that he could use this kind of knowledge in the wilderness someday, so 
he watched the teacher with wide eyes when Byers slowly poured a 
glassful of water on the window ledge at the beginning of their 
lesson. Before the hour was over, Byers opened the window again and 
let the boys look at the ledge – there was a smooth sheet of ice 
covering the ledge. Fox was enthralled.

"Where did the water go?" he asked, excited.

"The ice *is* the water, Fox," Byers said. "It's frozen."

While the teacher explained how water turned to ice Fox tried to pick 
and break the sheet of ice but it was solid and thick. The boy's eyes 
were round and huge, gleaming in the afternoon sun, and he had a rapt 
look on his face. This was all so very exciting! And interesting! 
*Now* school was fun! He was almost sad to think that it was Friday 
and he wouldn't be back to learn more until Monday.

Almost.

When he followed Alex outside they were both looking forward to 
finally play in the snow. The incident with Skinner during recess was 
all but forgotten. After all, Fox had gotten what he wanted – even 
though he had to admit to himself that he wasn't too keen on being 
shown the cold shoulder now that it apparently happened – and he had 
missed participating in the snowball fight after all. Unfortunately, 
now the snow had already started to melt and what little was left 
looked dirty and slushy.

Alex sighed. "Ah well. The joys of living in the big city," he 
commented. "Too many people walking all over the snow."

"So you think there'd be still enough snow for us where there aren't 
many people?" Fox asked.

His friend shrugged. "Probably. Why?"

"Well, let's go to the cabin then! There was a lot of snow this 
morning so I'm sure it'll still be there," Fox enthused.

"But we're not allowed to go to the cabin by ourselves," Alex reminded 
the other boy. Fox sighed. Alex was right. The sheriff and Sam Krycek 
had had enough after several stunts the boys had pulled so they always 
had to stay in town – or had to be accompanied by an adult. Very 
tiresome, that.

"We don't have to tell them," Fox suggested. "You go to your father 
and tell him you're coming with me and I go to Rose and tell her I'm 
going with you. That way they will think we're with the other adult 
and everyone's happy." Alex looked doubtful. He did want to go play in 
the snow but lying to his father...? As if Fox had read his mind, he 
wheedled, "We're not even lying, Alex. If you say you'll be with me 
you're telling the truth. You just don't say where we're going..."

Alex sighed again. His father would assume they'd be with Maggie 
Scully. That's where Fox always went to after school. His father 
wouldn't mind Alex spending time at Maggie's house. Alex also didn't 
have any chores to do so he could go play with his friend all he 
liked... Alex sighed one last time. "Okay, let's do it," he finally 
said grinning, before he ran towards the livery stable to talk to his 
father.

XXXXX

Their plan worked perfectly so before long the boys ran towards the 
sheriff's cabin, laughing happily. Fox had been right – there was snow 
in abundance. Even though it had stopped snowing sometime around 
mid-morning there was still a thick coat of white draped over the 
entire landscape. The boys looked at each other, grinned broadly and 
ran into the cabin's yard.

Fox went to greet Spirit next. The little horse was busy kicking at 
the snow, sniffling at the powdery stuff as it flew up into the air, 
even sneezing on occasion when the snowflakes tickled his nostrils. 
The boy grinned and called the horse that readily came closer to 
receive a hug. "How are you, my boy?" Fox crooned. "Do you enjoy the 
snow as much as I do?" Spirit whinnied, nodding his head a little, 
causing the boy to laugh again. "Good boy," he praised, patting the 
horse's strong neck tenderly.

"Come on, Fox," Alex yelled from the top of the hill behind the cabin. 
He didn't much care for the horse – or, at least, he had a healthy 
respect for that wild animal so he usually stayed far away from 
Spirit. "We can build a snowman!"

Fox grinned and ran up to his friend. Snowman! Now, that was a great 
idea! "But why do you want to build it here?" he asked, pointing at 
the ground in front of them.

Alex frowned, confused. Then he realized that his friend had 
misunderstood his intentions. "Oh, no, no. See, we start a small 
snowball up here and let it roll down the slope and..." Alex did 
exactly that and Fox could see how the snowball steadily grew without 
either one of them having to roll it around on the ground. His friend 
grinned triumphantly. "Pretty clever of me, huh?" he said.

"Very," Fox agreed, making his own snowball and pushing it down the 
hill.

Soon, they had two formidable snowballs ready and tried to balance one 
on top of the other without breaking them into millions of pieces. 
"The snow's not wet enough to stick together," Alex said mournfully, 
patting a bit where large chips of snow fell off the 'belly' of their 
snowman.

"What do you mean, not wet enough? Mr Byers said snow *is* water!"

"Well, yeah, but there are different kinds of snow. This one is rather 
dry." Alex sighed. "You'll see what I mean once you've seen really wet 
snow. It's just...different." He shrugged, unable to explain their 
predicament. They proceeded to pat and gently squeeze their 
half-finished snowman until they were happy with the result. "Well, 
this is as good as it gets anyway," Alex finally said, straightening 
up.

"Now all we need is the head," Fox replied, running back up the hill. 
His friend followed him, scooping up a handful of snow that he 
intended to throw at the other boy. But just as he reached the top of 
the hill and he looked down at their snowman that stood proudly next 
to the cabin's porch, his grin faded and he dropped his snowball.

"Oh, *damn*," he muttered.

Fox straightened up from forming a ball on the ground. "What?" he 
asked, frowning.

"We are such idiots," Alex sighed.

"What? Why?" Alex pointed at the yard. Fox looked. He didn't get it. 
"What?" he asked again. Alex pointed at the yard again. Fox looked 
again. He still didn't get it. "What?" he asked a third time, slightly 
annoyed.

Alex rolled his eyes. Wasn't it obvious? He pointed one last time but 
he realized that his friend was dense. So he patiently asked, "We're 
not supposed to really be here, right?" Fox frowned before he slowly 
nodded. "And we'll probably be in trouble when they find us, right?" 
Fox nodded again, silently thinking that this wouldn't happen. "And at 
least the sheriff will be slightly suspicious when he gets home and 
sees..." Alex pointed at the yard again, stabbing his finger angrily 
in the direction.

When Fox looked this time, he suddenly realized what Alex was driving 
at. "Oh, *damn*," he echoed. He tried to come up with a solution that 
wouldn't cost their butts. "Well...some other children could've come 
up with the same idea we had so they built the snowman...and left all 
those footprints..." He finished lamely. The look on his friend's face 
told him in detail what he thought about *that* excuse. "You think we 
could erase the footprints?"

"Even if we could – which would be a lot of work and I'm not even 
mentioning the entire road back to town – how would you explain the 
snowman?" Alex challenged.

Damn.

"Okay, so...how about this?" Fox asked anxiously. "We have to be back 
home at sundown, right? So, we go back and you tell your father and I 
tell Rose that we got bored and went playing here thinking that they 
wouldn't mind...and that nothing has happened and that we were good 
and that we were back on time and..." He trailed off. Alex shook his 
head, sighing. "Yeah, I know," Fox mumbled. "We're doomed."

"Well, as long as we're honest," Alex argued. "I mean, we've already 
kinda lied when we didn't say where we were going. So, if we now owned 
up...maybe we'll get off easy?"

"I dunno about your father but that stupid sheriff is gonna be tanning 
my butt," Fox replied, looking around the landscape as if trying to 
find the perfect solution that way. His eyes fell on the lake on the 
other side of the hill. "Hey," he yelled, grinning suddenly. "Since 
we're already in trouble anyway we can at least enjoy ourselves to the 
fullest! I mean, what's the use in going back to town now? Let's stay 
here till dusk and then go back." He pulled his friend towards the 
lake. "I wanna see if the water in the lake is frozen as well."

"Well, of course it is! It's been cold enough for days now," Alex 
replied, confused. Fox was right – why go back now and face the music? 
They could at least enjoy themselves another hour before they had to 
head back. "Haven't you looked at the lake lately?"

"No," Fox sighed, coming to a stop at the shore. "Stupid Old Meanie is 
keeping me away from the lake ever since...well, you know..." Alex 
nodded. Oh yeah. He knew all right. The fact that they had jumped off 
that tree a few months ago had earned him a very sore bottom. "So, I'm 
only allowed to come here with him. He's been keeping a really close 
eye on me for weeks now." More reason to dislike the man, Fox thought 
glumly. He doesn't trust me anymore. The boy hated being controlled 
like that.

"Well, as you can see, it's frozen," Alex said, pointing at the lake. 
It was frozen up with a sheet of ice, looking like a giant mirror on 
the ground.

"Wow," Fox replied softly. "I've never seen anything like that 
before." He took a step closer but his friend held him back. "What?"

"We don't know how hard the ice is," Alex argued. "You could break 
in."

"What do you mean, break in?" Fox laughed. "This is ice. It's solid."

"But there's water underneath."

"No, there isn't."

"Yes, there is. My father once told me to be careful because one can 
never know if the lake is completely frozen over or not," Alex 
lectured.

"Don't be silly. Mr Byers showed us how water turns to ice. You've 
seen it with your own eyes! There was no water under the ice on the 
ledge."

"This isn't a ledge, Fox. This is a pretty big lake!"

"Oh, and you really think there's water underneath the ice, huh? Well 
then how come the ice isn't moving? Shouldn't it be bobbing up and 
down, like a leaf in fall?" Fox challenged.

Alex hesitated. Good point, he thought. Still, he *knew* his father 
had warned him about this! Or at least he thought he had. "Well," he 
finally ventured. "The ice is frozen to the ground here." Alex pointed 
at the shoreline. Sure enough, the ice had the ground in a firm grip. 
"That's why it's not moving. And besides, it's one huge sheet of ice. 
It's too big to move."

"Nonsense. Doesn't matter how big something is. Everything can move." 
Fox glared at his friend. "You're just chicken, aren't you?" he asked 
before he deliberately jumped off the ground, landing on the ice with 
a dull thud. The ice held. "See? Piece of cake," he grinned.

Alex let out a nervous sigh. "Well, this is close to the shore," he 
said. "The ice gets thinner towards the middle of the lake."

"Oh, really?" Fox asked, taking a few purposeful steps away from his 
friend. The ice was solid ground under his feet. "I don't see your 
problem, Alex. Stop acting like a child and get over here!"

The other boy sighed but stepped on the ice as well. What the hell, he 
thought. The lake looked entirely frozen over which in turn meant that 
the sheet of ice should be thick enough to support their weights.

"Explain one thing to me," Fox said, skipping further towards the 
middle of the lake. "Ice is a solid object, right?" He turned around 
to watch Alex nod. "And water is liquid, right?" Alex nodded again, 
frowning. He wasn't sure where this was leading. "Well, and didn't Mr. 
Byers teach us that all solid objects were heavier than liquid? So if 
you were right and I was wrong, this *sheet* of ice would have to sink 
to the ground of the lake, right? Because it's heavier than the water. 
Right?" Fox grinned triumphantly, turned around and slid off on his 
knees, laughing happily. He left a very confused Alex behind. The boy 
remembered that lesson. Fox was right. Alex looked at the ice under 
his feet. Could his father have been that wrong? He frowned. His 
father had talked to him in Russian when he had warned him about 
playing on the ice. Alex's Russian wasn't perfect. Who knew, maybe he 
had just misunderstood his father...

Mentally shrugging, he took a few steps to pick up speed before he let 
himself fall on his knees to slide after his friend, laughing just as 
happily as Fox was.

XXXXX

Sheriff Skinner slowly rode down Main Street. He had been busy during 
the day, inquiring about orphanages within a 50 mile radius. Until he 
had left his office a few minutes ago he had received two replies from 
other sheriffs – one told him there was no orphanage in his town, the 
other informed him that they did have one but there were no missing 
children. Skinner had been relieved by those news. He hoped the other 
sheriffs would send similar telegrams.

Even though it was still a bit too early to leave for the day the big 
man had decided to be selfish and return home. Or more precisely, to 
Maggie Scully. He wanted to pick up his rascal, consequences be 
damned. He had thought about 'just being there for the boy' and had 
come to the conclusion that since this apparently hadn't worked before 
he would have to change tactics. He knew that normally the boy would 
shut himself off as soon as Skinner tried to get close but the sheriff 
had had enough. He would make sure that his rascal knew what he had in 
his old meanie if it was the last thing he did. Maybe some gentle 
force was called for – making Fox listen to the sheriff, his hopes, 
his fears, might just do the trick. Pussyfooting around the boy only 
because he acted like a sulking five-year-old hadn't worked in the 
last couple of weeks, so no matter what Maggie Scully or his brain 
told him, he would listen to his *heart* and get to the bottom of the 
problem.

The big man jumped off his horse and walked up to Maggie's house. He 
was surprised to see that she herself opened the door, not his rascal, 
but that was actually making things easier. He wanted to tell her 
something in private anyway. "Hi Maggie," he said softly. "I just 
wanted to thank you for mentioning the orphanages this morning. I did 
some digging in that direction. Maybe we're on to something there."

"Walter, why are we whispering?" Maggie whispered back, leaning closer 
to the big man.

Skinner raised a surprised eyebrow. Wasn't that obvious? "I don't want 
the boy to know anything about this," he replied softly.

"Oh, in that case," Maggie laughed, increasing the volume. "He's not 
here. Come on in, Walter." She waved him into the sitting room but the 
sheriff stood rooted to the spot.

"What do you mean, he's not here?" he asked, alarmed.

"Well, Fox came to me after school and he told me that he would like 
to go play with Alex. He seemed so happy that I allowed him to go over 
to the Kryceks. I guess the snow's the reason why he was smiling so 
broadly. I was so glad to see him like this..." She smiled a little 
sadly, remembering the last few days in which Fox was mostly moping. 
"He was even excited enough to tell me what they did in school today 
and how much fun he had there. He was like...well, you know...like 
before." Maggie looked at the sheriff. "I hope you don't mind. I 
thought it was okay to let him go with Alex."

"Oh, don't worry. That's fine. I was just going to pick him up and go 
home a little early. I'm glad that he seems to be in a good mood," 
Skinner reassured his friend, thinking about his 'meeting' with the 
boy in front of the school. The big man really hoped that his rascal 
was happier than he appeared to be a few hours earlier. "Thanks for 
taking care of him, Maggie. And thanks for listening to me this 
morning." Skinner gave her a peck on the cheek. "Say hello to Miss 
Dana from me," he said in parting before he left the house again.

"Come on, Buck. Let's go pick up our Rascal," he told his horse, 
grabbing the reins and walking further down Main Street, trailed by 
the big stallion.

XXXXX

Alex ran after his friend but lost his footing and fell on his face. 
Fox watched the other boy and laughed so hard that he lost his own 
balance, landing on his butt in the process. "Ice is stupid," Alex 
commented, trying to get up without losing the last shreds of his 
dignity. He slipped and fell back down. "Ouch," he mumbled.

"You're doing it wrong," Fox replied amicably. "Watch me." He then 
proceeded to gracefully get up. Once he stood on his feet he bowed 
like a perfect little gentleman. "See? Piece of cake."

"Shut up," Alex replied grumpily, scrambling to his feet. Once he was 
sure that he had his balance he sighed in relief. "There. Now come 
here and carry me back," he instructed his friend who started to laugh 
all over again. Alex grinned in reply. "Hey, I mean it. Come on, be a 
good boy and obey your lord and master!"

Fox walked over to the other boy, looking as if he was taking a stroll 
on safe and solid ground. "If anything than *I* am the boss around 
here," he informed his friend with a broad grin.

"Oh yeah?" Alex challenged. "Says who?"

"Says I," Fox replied, slightly pushing the other boy. That little 
shove was enough to unbalance Alex and he landed on his butt. "The 
boss," Fox added, just to make sure. Then he grinned at his friend who 
grinned back and offered him a hand up.

"It's getting dark," Alex commented, pointing at the sky. "Maybe we 
should get back to town." They shared a look that spoke volumes. Both 
of them were very much *not* looking forward to the trouble they would 
get into once the adults found out what they had done. Then again, all 
the fun they had had in the snow and on the ice was worth it!

"Okay, one last race," Fox exclaimed. "Then we go back."

"Oh, come on, Fox, we both know who will win anyway," Alex groaned, 
rolling his eyes.

"Exactly," the other boy replied, grinning. "Move, old man!" He 
slapped Alex on the back, almost causing him to fall on his butt 
again, before they both made it back to the edge of the lake.

"Let's be careful, Fox, okay? We've been going further and further to 
the middle of the lake. I have a bad feeling about this."

"Don't start with the breaking in thing again," Fox sighed. "But okay, 
we'll be careful." He rolled his eyes. Alex was always so cautious. 
Nothing had happened up till now. The ice was solid – of course it 
was, after all, the entire water had turned into ice, right? Fox shook 
his head and grinned. He'd show Alex just how far you could go on this 
lake! "On the count of three," he yelled. "One, two...three!"

They both ran towards the middle of the lake, quickly picking up 
speed. While Alex lost his balance soon, Fox kept running. He finally 
fell on his knees as well, sliding a few more feet. "I am the boss!" 
he yelled triumphantly, looking over his shoulder at his friend, a 
broad grin splitting his face in two.

Alex couldn't help but grin back. Then he suddenly heard a loud crack 
– and Fox disappeared.

XXXXX

Buck shook his head causing Skinner to laugh out loud. "Yeah, I know, 
the old man is losing it, right?" he told the horse. "First we go to 
Maggie, then to the Krycek house and now we go back to the livery 
stable. There's method in my madness, my boy." Buck shook his head 
again.

Skinner chuckled and continued his stroll back down Main Street. He 
had been surprised to not find anybody in the Krycek home but he 
figured that the boys might spend their time in the livery stable with 
the other horses there. The snow was melting in town so playing with 
it clearly couldn't be fun anymore. The sheriff mentally shrugged. As 
long as his rascal was in a good mood he didn't much care for the 
reasons why.

Just as he came up to the livery stable the town's attorney, Jim 
Bower, dismounted his horse. Buck immediately nuzzled the other 
horse's neck in greeting. Both the attorney and Skinner chuckled. 
"Seems he's sweet on my Bonnie," Bower commented.

"And who wouldn't, Jim?" Skinner replied. "Look at those beautiful 
brown eyes!" They both smiled and entered the stable. Sam Krycek 
immediately came up to them.

"Hello Jim, hello Sheriff," he said. "How are you today?"

"Well, to be honest, I really could've done without the snow on my day 
out of the office," the attorney replied. "But Bonnie seemed to like 
it."

"Don't worry, I will give her an extra treat," Sam promised, patting 
the horse's neck lovingly. "I am sure you are glad to be back home, 
are you not, my pretty?" he crooned.

"Say, Sam, where did you hide my Rascal?" Skinner asked, looking 
around. He couldn't find either one of the boys.

"Hide him?" Sam replied, confused. "I do not hide him anywhere. He is 
with Alex. In Maggie Scully's house."

The sheriff sighed inwardly. He really liked Sam Krycek but sometimes 
the other man just misunderstood him. The man's English really wasn't 
perfect. "No, Sam," he said patiently. "He went with Alex. But they're 
not in your home."

"No, no. They went to Maggie Scully," Sam replied. "Alex came to me 
and asked if he could go with Fox. I said yes. So, they are in Maggie 
Scully's house."

Skinner frowned. Sam seemed so convinced...maybe he was right. But why 
would Maggie lie to him? What if Maggie hadn't lied to him? What 
if...?

The sheriff suddenly paled and locked eyes with Sam Krycek. They both 
seemed to think the same thing from the shocked look on their faces. 
"The lake," they said simultaneously. Skinner hastened to mount Buck, 
ignoring the fact that he was still inside the livery stable. Then he 
turned to the confused attorney. "Jim, would you mind if we borrowed 
Bonnie for a little while? I think the boys..."

"Don't worry," the other man immediately replied, handing over the 
reins. "Here, Sam, I know you'll take good care of her. Just make sure 
the boys are safe and sound." He knew how much the town's children 
loved that damned lake and now he was also worried about the boys. 
"And let me know when you know anything new, okay?"

"Thanks, Jim," Skinner replied, already galloping out of the stable at 
high speed, Sam Krycek in close pursuit.

XXXXX

In the meantime Alex had frantically tried to rescue Fox – his friend 
had indeed broken in, the crust of ice obviously not thick enough to 
take his weight, and now he was helplessly paddling in the freezing 
water, calling for the other boy.

Alex had tried to remember what his father had told him about such 
cases and he cursed the man for talking in Russian at the time. The 
boy was terrified enough not to able to think straight in English, 
much less remember what he had been told in Russian. He did know that 
he wasn't supposed to walk up to the victim; he had to inch his way to 
the hole, lying on his front so his weight was distributed over a 
wider range of ice. And he had to find something to pull the victim 
out with. At first he had tried to use a branch which had taken 
precious time to be cut down at first, but Fox's clammy fingers 
weren't able to grab the slippery, icy wood. In the end Alex had 
mentally shrugged, thrown the branch away and slowly inched closer to 
his friend.

"A-Alex, wh-what are you d-doing?" Fox protested, splashing in the 
freezing water.

"I'm trying to save you, *boss*," his friend replied angrily before he 
got himself under control. There was no place for anger right now. He 
was furious with Fox for endangering his life so recklessly but he'd 
be damned if he let him die now! "Okay, listen to me, Fox. Are you 
listening?" Alex stared at the other boy whose lips had already turned 
blue. "Fox! Open your damned eyes and listen to me!" Alex yelled, 
close to being hysterical. His friend's eyes snapped open. Alex sighed 
in relief. "Okay. Good. Now listen. I'll slowly come closer now. As 
soon as you can you'll try to grab my hand so I can pull you out, 
okay?"

"N-no, Alex. D-don't. This is too dan-dangerous," Fox shivered. "Save 
y-yourself, o-okay?"

"And get my butt warmed by the sheriff? Not on your life!" Alex 
replied, making Fox snort in disbelief. "Don't worry, I know what I'm 
doing." I hope, he added silently. Then he proceeded to inch closer.

Fox was desperately trying to stay awake. He was so cold and so tired. 
Alex had told him to 'walk on the spot' in order to keep him from 
losing the feel in his legs but they felt so heavy, like lead. Maybe 
he could help Alex and drag himself out... But as soon as he got a 
somewhat firm grip on the edge of the ice, another big chunk broke 
off, making the hole bigger.

"Will you stop doing that, damn it? You're not helping, you know. Just 
stay there. I'm coming," Alex implored his friend, tears running down 
his face now. What would happen if he couldn't pull Fox out of the 
water? He should've insisted on going back to the town right now. They 
never should've played on the ice. "I'm almost there," he mumbled. 
"Gimme your hand."

Fox desperately tried to lift his right hand but his entire arm felt 
too heavy and frozen stiff. "I...I c-can't, Alex," he whispered, 
closing his eyes. He was so tired.

"God damn it all to hell, Fox, how about listening to me for *once* 
and do as I say?" Alex yelled, barely managing not to hit the sheet of 
ice with his fist. He didn't know what would have happened if he did. 
His friend's eyes snapped open again, shock evident on his face. "And 
now give me your hand," Alex demanded, reaching out with his own left 
hand.

Slowly, painfully, Fox dragged his arm out of the water, the sleeve 
dripping heavily, pulling the arm back down, but he resisted the urge 
to just let go and float and reached out for his friend.

Their hands were mere inches apart.

"Okay, I'm coming closer. Hold still," Alex sobbed, inching a little 
closer to the hole. He felt the ice thinning underneath and swallowed 
nervously. "Almost there, Fox. Almost there. Hang on," he repeated as 
a mantra, to calm his friend as much as himself. Tiny cracks in the 
ice slowly grew, wandering away from the hole and towards the boy. I 
will not panic, I will not panic, Alex told himself mentally, reaching 
out for his friend again.

This time, their hands connected.

"Hold very still, Fox," Alex implored, grabbing his friend's wrist in 
a steel grip. "Okay, okay, this is gonna work," he said, hoping Fox 
believed it. "Now, on the count of three, I want you to push with your 
legs, you know, as if you were gonna jump into the air. I'll pull you 
out. Do not, under any circumstances, try to get up once you're on the 
ice. We have to crawl away from the hole on our bellies. Do you 
understand what I'm saying? Fox? Fox!"

"Yeah. Yeah, I understand," the other boy finally replied, clearly at 
the end of his strength. "Alex?"

"What?"

"Th-thank you."

They stared at each other for a long moment. "Thank me when we're back 
on solid ground, Fox," Alex replied. "Now. One, two...three!"

With the last bit of strength he had Fox pushed himself up, feeling 
his right arm almost being pulled off his body. He made a grab at the 
slippery ice with his left hand, trying to help Alex pull him out of 
the water, realizing that his wet clothes were threatening to drag him 
back into the freezing water. A small tug-of-war between Alex and the 
water made Fox feel as if he was torn in two but he gritted his teeth.

And just as it seemed that the boys had won this round, the ice 
beneath Alex cracked and broke away.

XXXXX

Sheriff Skinner rushed into his yard, pulling hard at Buck's reins to 
make him stop. The horse was breathing heavily from the fast run to 
the cabin and a soft steam was floating around his sweat-soaked body. 
The big man looked at the myriad of footprints in his yard and then 
saw the half-finished snowman standing vigil next to the porch. There 
were traces of removed snow on the hill, clearly used for the snowman, 
as well as more footprints. The sheriff cursed under his breath, 
urging his horse to full gallop again.

Sam Krycek, who was a good rider but not even close to Skinner's 
ability, came into the yard just as he saw the sheriff stop on top of 
the hill. He just knew that they had been right in their assumption, 
their fear, that the boys were playing on the ice. He kicked Bonnie's 
side and hurried after the big man.

Skinner stared at the lake. It had started to snow heavily again and 
it was seriously getting dark, so it was difficult to make out 
anything but after a long moment he saw a couple of arms waving out of 
what seemed to be a hole in the ice. "Oh dear lord, no," he breathed, 
forcing Buck to rush down the other side of the hill. The trees 
surrounding the lake made it impossible to throw the lasso from on top 
of the horse so Skinner jumped down before Buck had even halted, his 
lasso already in his hand.

He came to a skidding halt at the edge of the lake, and threw the rope 
towards the boys. "Are you okay?" he yelled anxiously.

"Fox is in trouble, I think," a sobbing Alex replied. "He's been in 
the water longer than me..." The boy grabbed the lasso with one hand, 
grateful that the sheriff had such a good aim, and tried to wrestle it 
around his friend. Fox protested weakly.

"No, y-you go f-first, Alex. It's m-my fault th-that you're in this 
m-mess," he stuttered, teeth chattering so hard that he could barely 
speak.

"Nonsense," Alex argued. "You have to get out *now*!" He tried to fit 
the lasso's loop over his friend's head but Fox struggled again. "Fox, 
please!"

"N-no. Y-you first."

"Rascal, stop that nonsense right now," Skinner bellowed from afar. He 
didn't dare walk on the ice – maybe it wouldn't be able to take his 
weight and then everyone was lost. "You're making this harder on Alex. 
We will only pull him out after you're safe so if you want to rescue 
him then grab the damned rope and obey!" The sheriff winced, not 
wanting to use emotional blackmail on the boy, but this seemed to be 
the only way to get him to behave.

Fox sobbed once before he meekly allowed Alex to loop the lasso around 
him. "We'll be warm and dry in no time," Alex promised his friend with 
a weak smile, tears still running down his cheeks. "You'll see." Then 
he turned towards the sheriff and yelled, "Okay, pull!"

Skinner had in the meantime fastened the other end of the lasso to the 
pommel of his saddle. He grabbed Buck's reins and led him backwards to 
the hill, this way slowly but steadily pulling his rascal out of the 
freezing water.

At the same time Sam Krycek had come to a stop next to the sheriff. He 
dismounted, not believing his eyes, and let out a wail of sheer agony. 
"Alex!" he yelled in despair. "Alex!"

"Sam, come here," Skinner ordered, realizing that he had to take 
charge of the situation. He thrust Buck's reins at the other man. 
"Take over. I'll get Alex out." He pushed Sam away from Bonnie, 
grabbing the lasso that was hanging from her saddle. "Do it," he 
yelled at the other man when he saw that Sam was rooted to the spot, 
staring at the lake in shock.

The other man took a shuddering breath before he moved to Buck. 
Normally the big horse didn't allow strangers near him but he seemed 
to sense that it was imperative to obey Sam so he meekly followed the 
man up the hill.

Skinner threw the second lasso to Alex hoping the boy had still enough 
strength in him to hold on tight to the rope. Out of the corner of his 
eyes he watched Fox being pulled over the ice towards safety. "Alex, 
grab the lasso and then don't move. I'll do the rest," he instructed 
the boy, desperately trying to make his voice sound calm and 
reassuring. He felt miserably.

Once Alex was secured and the second lasso was knotted around Bonnie's 
pommel, Skinner ordered Sam back. "I'll take over, Sam," he gently 
told the other man. "Get your son out of the water." Sam eagerly let 
go off Buck's reins and took over Bonnie's, looking to see that Alex 
was already lying on the ice and was basically safe. Now it was only a 
matter of getting the boys back to solid ground.

The sheriff grabbed the lasso and pulled on the rope, ignoring his 
horse for the most part, until he had Fox safely in his arms. The boy 
was trembling miserably, his face pale, his quivering lips a deep 
blue. Skinner helped him out of the lasso. "Are you okay, Rascal?" he 
asked anxiously, checking the boy's head for injuries before he 
grabbed his hands to take a close look at the fingers.

"Ouch. That h-hurt. Care-careful," Fox whined, trying to pull his 
hands back.

"It's a good sign when your fingers hurt, Rascal. That means you can 
still *feel* them," Skinner replied. He expertly looked for any other 
injuries but the boy seemed to be fine – except that he was freezing 
and miserable. The sheriff hugged him tightly to his chest, ignoring 
the fact that he got soaked with ice water in the process. Then he 
gave the terrified boy a firm slap on his wet butt. "Idiotic thing to 
do, Rascal. You're in trouble." Skinner took off his coat and wrapped 
it around Fox, trying to conserve what little body heat the boy still 
had. "Stay," he ordered, pointing at the exact spot where they were 
standing. Then he walked over to Buck and quickly removed the lasso 
from the pommel. He didn't have time to waste on recurling the rope; 
they could always come back and pick it up later. He watched Sam going 
through the same motions with his son that he had gone through with 
his rascal. The other man hugged and kissed and swatted his son all at 
the same time, babbling in Russian as he was prone to do when he got 
very excited, or very scared.

"Ty v poryadke?" he asked, removing the lasso.

"Yes, I'm okay, Pa," Alex replied, rolling his eyes. He hated it when 
his father talked in Russian. He was wet and tired and didn't want to 
concentrate on a language he had never quite mastered. But he knew 
that his father wouldn't be able to stop until he had calmed a bit. 
Sam didn't even realize he was talking in a different language until 
normally someone would point it out to him. At least Alex understood 
most of it.

"Bolit chto-to?"

"No, I don't hurt anywhere. I'm fine, Pa. Can't we just..."

"Ya tak ispugalsa!" Sam suddenly yelled, tears running down his cheeks 
unchecked. It stopped Alex short. The boy stared at his father, his 
own tears flowing freely now. "I was scared, too," he sobbed, throwing 
his arms around his father.

"Sam? Sam, let's get the boys back to the cabin. Come on, Sam," 
Skinner gently coaxed, removing the lasso from Bonnie's saddle. Sam 
nodded, wrapped his son in his own coat and mounted the borrowed 
horse. Skinner grab his own bundle of wet Rascal and wrestled him on 
top of Buck before both horses ran towards home at full speed.

XXXXX

They entered the cabin and Skinner immediately took charge again. 
"You, strip," he ordered the boys sternly before he turned to Sam. 
"Would you stoke the fire a little so it gets warm in here?" he asked 
the other man who nodded and walked over to the fireplace.

The sheriff went into the kitchen to set some water to boil. The boys 
needed to take a hot bath and the big man wished desperately that 
there was a faster way of heating the water than to boil it pot by 
pot.

Next we walked into the alcove to retrieve his rascal's nightshirt 
from the bed. The bed he had himself made the very same morning only 
that it now seemed ages ago. Skinner sighed, remembering the broad 
smile the boy had given him as thanks when he had realized that he 
could run outside to play in the snow, and the big man's anger flared 
again. How stupid of Fox to disobey him and play on the ice. He was 
forbidden to go to the lake, damn it, and he had still gone! The 
sheriff grabbed the extra nightshirt from the small chest in the 
corner for Alex to wear, organized two towels and brought them to the 
main room where the boys were already half-naked. The fire was blazing 
in the fireplace, warming the small cabin nicely, and Sam was busy 
helping his son with the soggy pants.

"Day-ka ya tebe pomogu," he mumbled softly.

"I don't need any help," Alex replied petulantly, casting a nervous 
glance at the sheriff. Sam sighed and walked over to Fox, offering his 
help. Skinner stared at his rascal for a long moment before he turned 
around and walked to the kitchen to take care of the hot water.

Several trips later the bathtub was slowly filling up and Skinner had 
brought a couple of blankets to the boys. He still hadn't said 
anything fearing that he was too furious not to say anything that he 
would later regret. Alex was wearing the nightshirt and gratefully 
wrapped himself into the blanket while Sam was still busy giving Fox a 
brisk rub-down with the towel.

"Sam, could you keep an eye on the water? I'm going to take care of 
the horses now. They are sweaty from the run and they're still 
standing outside in the cold," Skinner said. The other man nodded 
absently, helping Fox into his nightshirt while pushing his own son in 
front of the fireplace at the same time.

Skinner didn't see the worried look Fox threw at his back. The boy was 
convinced that the sheriff was about to throw him out now. Not that he 
didn't want to leave this place sooner or later in order to find his 
sister, but now was too early. He still needed money, he wanted his 
gun and he knew that he stood no chance in this cold. Damn. And he had 
never intended to push the big man that far. He had planned to slowly 
ease away from him, to wean him off, so to speak. He never wanted to 
destroy the tender bond that had somehow started to exist between 
them. He sighed forlornly and joined Alex in front of the fire.

XXXXX

Skinner took his time while he tended to the horses. He gave them an 
extra portion of oats for their help in rescuing the boys, gave them a 
long rub-down and even brushed them thoroughly. Throughout this 
treatment he tried to work off some steam. He felt betrayed. No matter 
what he had done, what he had said, his rascal had continuously defied 
him. Now his blatant disobedience had almost cost him his life – as 
well as Alex's. The boy had standing orders to stay in town after 
school and even if he didn't he also knew that under no circumstances 
he was allowed to go near the lake. The boys had deliberately lied to 
be able to go to the cabin. If Sam Krycek and he himself didn't know 
their boys so well nobody would have ever found them. Heck, they 
wouldn't have found them in time if the sheriff hadn't decided to call 
it a day early in order to spend the rest of the afternoon with his 
rascal!

"Damn it," Skinner muttered again before he took a calming breath. 
There was no need or reason to be agitated. The deed was done, they 
both had survived, now it was time to deal with the consequences. The 
sheriff gave both horses a hearty slap on their rumps before he closed 
the stable door. He took care of Spirit and then walked to the other 
side of the hill to retrieve the discarded ropes.

When he finally entered the cabin again the sheriff was calm enough to 
deal with his rascal. Or so he hoped.

XXXXX

The boys still sat huddled close to the fireplace and looked anxiously 
over their shoulders when the big man walked inside the cabin. Skinner 
gave them both a long, stern glare that told them exactly how 
disappointed he was, then he walked into the kitchen, looking for Sam.

The other man was in the small pantry off the kitchen, wringing out 
the boys' clothes into the tub filled with steamingly hot water before 
hanging them up on the clothes line that was fastened to the walls. 
"The bath is ready. I was going to call the boys now," Sam said in 
greeting.

Skinner smiled, nodding his thanks, and then yelled, "Boys! In here! 
Now!" A few moments later, two shivering bodies wrapped in blankets 
stood in front of the sheriff. "You're going to take a hot bath now," 
the big man said, pointing at the tub. "I know it's a bit small for 
the two of you but this isn't about taking a long soak. This is about 
getting you warm again. Five minutes in the hot water should do the 
trick. Move!" He clapped his hands in encouragement and was satisfied 
to see both boys scrambling to obey.

Sam followed the other man into the kitchen where Skinner prepared to 
heat a thick chicken soup for everyone. "Thank you for your help," he 
said softly.

The sheriff looked up in surprise. "Thank me? Thank *you*," he 
replied, smiling sadly. "Let's just be grateful that they are both 
alive and well." The other man nodded. "I think they are just a bit 
shocked by the experience but they'll be back to their usual bratty 
little selves in no time," Skinner tried to reassure his friend.

"I hope so," Sam replied. "As soon as Alex is warm again we will go 
home."

"What? No, Sam," Skinner said. "I've already bedded Bonnie down for 
the night. It's snowing heavily and it's too dark to ride back to 
town. Besides, Alex's clothes are still too wet. No, you will both 
stay here. The boys can share a bed and you can have mine. I'll sleep 
on the couch."

"Oh, no, Sheriff, I can't accept that," the other man replied, shaking 
his head frantically.

"Sam, how many times do I have to tell you? Call me 'Walt'. Everyone 
else does."

"Walt, I can't accept that," Sam echoed dutifully.

"Yes, you can. Besides, I think after that trauma the boys need each 
other. They've experienced something horrific so let's give them the 
opportunity to digest it together as well. Okay?"

The other man contemplated that for a long moment. "Well," Sam finally 
said. "I'm sure Alex would not mind someone to share his tears with 
after I have punished him." Skinner smiled knowingly. "You are going 
to punish Fox too, are you not, Walt?"

The sheriff sighed. "Well, yes. But I don't know how. I've thought 
about this for the last hour but I'm not sure what the appropriate 
punishment is. I mean, he's never done anything like that before 
but..." He shrugged helplessly.

Sam looked at the other man searchingly. "Well, my Alex knows exactly 
what he gets when he endangers himself like this. Now he also 
endangered his friend. And he lied to me." Sam scratched his head. 
"While you were taking care of the horses I went outside and got 
this," he finally ventured before he picked up a perfectly cut switch. 
"Alex knows that he will receive this as punishment." He waited a long 
moment. "I have cut two, in case you need one as well," he offered, 
holding up another switch.

Skinner stared at the thin piece of wood. He knew a switch hurt like 
the dickens and up till now he had always given his rascal hand 
spankings. He had once used his belt, once used a hairbrush and then, 
not too long ago, the ruler. But up till now the boy had never really 
done anything as stupid as playing on the ice and then breaking in, 
endangering another person in the process. While he was lying and 
disobeying standing orders, no less. "How many?" the sheriff finally 
asked.

"Well, Alex normally gets six strokes but I was going to give him more 
because he endangered Fox also," Sam replied.

The sheriff shook his head. "We have to keep in mind that they got 
nearly killed. I don't want to torture them. I think six is fine. I'll 
give my Rascal a quick hand spanking before I use the switch though. 
For lying and disobeying."

Sam nodded. "Then it is settled," he said, carrying the switches into 
the main room.

XXXXX

Supper was mostly eaten in silence. The boys opted to stay huddled in 
front of the warming fire and the men sat at the small table while 
they all ate a steamy bowl of chicken soup. Skinner quickly took care 
of the dishes before he called Fox and Alex over to the table. The 
boys came to a stop in front of their respective guardian.

"We are both very disappointed in you," the sheriff began.

Sam nodded. "Duratskiy postupok!" he exclaimed. "Ne delay tak bolshe, 
nikogda!" Both Skinner and Fox turned to look at the other man who 
only then realized that he once again had spoken in Russian. "You did 
something stupid," he slowly translated. "Don't ever do anything like 
that again." Fox bit his lower lip and nodded. Alex merely sighed. 
Heck, he never intended that to happen in the first place. Did his 
father truly believe he'd do this a second time? "You are all that I 
have left, Alex," Sam sat imploringly, grabbing his son's upper arms 
and shaking him gently. The boy's eyes grew huge, and tears welled up.

"I know. I'm sorry, Pa. I really am," he whispered. Fox watched, 
fascinated, how Sam hugged his son fiercely before he guided him over 
his knees. He was confused. The sheriff normally tried to hug him 
*after* his punishment, not before. And did Sam seriously want to 
punish his son in front of an audience?

Fox still contemplated that mystery when he was hauled over the 
sheriff's strong thighs. Realizing that he was going to have an 
audience as well he started to struggle. One sharp slap to his 
unprotected rump stopped his wriggling though. "I think you've 
disobeyed me enough for today," Skinner growled. "Now hold still." And 
then the big man proceeded to spank the boy's bottom in earnest.

From the strangled yelps and whimpers coming from a couple of feet 
away Fox surmised that Alex's butt was being thoroughly warmed as 
well. He didn't like the fact that he was spanked while other people 
were present but at least the fact that Alex was also on the receiving 
end of a few well-placed swats made the whole experience tolerable. So 
the sheriff wasn't the only one who liked to spank poor innocent 
little boys!

He had to admit that he was a little surprised that all he received 
was a hand spanking. Fox had already thought about his punishment – he 
just knew that the sheriff wouldn't let him leave without warming his 
butt first and he had half expected the dreaded belt again. He hated 
the belt. The hairbrush was fine, he could live with the ruler and 
he'd take a mere hand spanking any day, but the belt really scared him 
though he couldn't say why. Still, what he had done was worse than any 
other stunt he had pulled up till now, so he couldn't believe his luck 
when he was thrown over the sheriff's lap like that. He was really 
getting off easy!

Especially since the big man stopped the spanking before the boy's 
butt really started to hurt. Fox wiped a few tears away, watching out 
of the corner of his eye that Alex was doing the same. He had received 
more severe spankings for less transgressions. Did that mean that the 
sheriff couldn't even be bothered to punish him properly anymore?

The sheriff helped his rascal to his feet again. The boy looked at 
Alex, relief mixed with a weird kind of sadness on his face that both 
turned into a confused frown when he saw that his friend was still 
nervous, as if he knew something that Fox didn't. Skinner smiled 
inwardly. Oh, he had a pretty good idea of what that something was.

"I think it's safe to say that both of you know what you did wrong, 
right?" Skinner asked. Both boys nodded their heads.

"I'm sorry," they replied simultaneously, obviously meaning it. The 
sheriff was convinced that they were.

"Good. Come on, Rascal," the big man said, getting up and moving the 
boy to the back of the sofa. Fox saw that Sam was doing the same with 
Alex. His friend seemed to know what was coming because he heaved one 
deep sigh and then resignedly draped himself over the back of the 
couch. Fox turned to look at the sheriff questioningly. "You, too," 
Skinner said, gently pushing Fox forward.

The boy slowly obeyed, still confused. He looked at his friend who 
wiped new tears from his eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispered to Alex. "I 
never meant to get you into trouble."

Alex couldn't help himself, he laughed softly. "You always do, Fox. 
And I guess you always will."

I wouldn't be so sure about that, Fox thought glumly, seeing himself 
being kicked out of the cabin right after the punishment. Damn, I've 
really screwed up this time.

"You know what comes next, don't you, Alex?" Sam asked softly.

"Six with the switch," his son immediately replied, burying his face 
into the couch. "I'm sorry, Pa. I deserve to be punished."

Fox bolted upright. Switch? He turned around to see Skinner standing 
next to him, a switch in his hand. The big man held the implement 
under the boy's nose so he could inspect it. "Six, Rascal," the 
sheriff said softly. "You deserve each one of them." The boy's eyes 
filled with tears. He knew that the hand spanking was not hard enough 
for his transgressions but this switch looked vicious. Did the sheriff 
really have to use something that insidious? He trembled, 
instinctively fearing the switch, but knowing deep down that he 
deserved it. And anyway, Alex got the same and in Fox's book his 
friend hadn't been as bad as he was.

Resigning himself to his fate, Fox draped himself over the back of the 
couch again. Skinner stepped up, resting his left hand in the small of 
the boy's back. Sam did the same, only with his right hand. Since he 
was left-handed the men could discipline the boys simultaneously 
without having to fear that they would get in the other man's way. 
They looked at each other for a long moment before they brought their 
switches down for the first time.

A dual cry of pain echoed through the cabin, causing Skinner to wince. 
He really didn't want to hurt his rascal but the boy just had to 
learn. If mere hand spankings weren't doing the trick maybe the switch 
would. Sam concentrated on delivering the second stroke so the sheriff 
took a deep breath and raised his switch again. He didn't want to 
torture Fox by taking longer to deliver the punishment than Sam was 
and they brought the switch down together again. The boys started to 
whimper and cry in earnest but the men steeled their hearts and 
proceeded with the punishment.

Finally six angry red stripes adorned each rosy butt and the men let 
the sobbing boys up. Skinner slowly grabbed his rascal and wanted to 
give him a reassuring hug but the boy immediately stiffened in his 
arms. The sheriff sighed. This wasn't the first time that Fox resisted 
signs of affection but he would be damned to just let him run off 
without being reassured that the slate was clean. He looked at the 
other pair, noting sadly how things *could* be.

Sam was fiercely hugging his crying son, mumbling, "Ya tebya liubliu, 
synok. Ya tebya liubliu," over and over again.

"I love you, too," Alex whispered into his father's neck, holding on 
for dear life.

Skinner watched them for a long moment, seeing how they gave and took 
strength from each other, before he realized that Fox was watching 
them as well. He tried to hug the boy again but Fox pushed against his 
broad chest.

"It's okay. I'm okay," the boy mumbled, wiping his face.

"Rascal, all is forgiven now. Like always. You were very brave. I'm 
proud of you for taking the switching so well." Skinner reached out 
again but the boy took a step back.

"Thank you," Fox said, though it was obvious that he merely tried to 
placate the man who apparently didn't want to let him go without 
hugging him. "I'm tired. May I go to bed now?"

Skinner's heart broke. He just wanted to envelope the boy in his arms, 
protect him, never let him go again. But his rascal seemed to be 
completely out of reach and he instinctively knew that grabbing him 
and forcing a hug on him would finally completely drive him away. So, 
sighing forlornly, he nodded. "Of course, Rascal. Let me know if you 
want me to put some ointment on your bottom, okay?"

"I'm fine," Fox replied stiffly, thinking that it was a joke for the 
sheriff to first whip his butt and then wanting to make it all better. 
If he really wanted me to not be in pain he shouldn't have used that 
stupid switch in the first place, he thought glumly before he slowly 
walked into his alcove without a backward glance.

XXXXX

He heard Sam mumbling something to Alex again before his friend joined 
him in bed. "What did your father say?" he asked after a minute, not 
able to really fall asleep after all that had happened.

"He said 'Nu, vyso. Davay zaboodem. Vyso.' It means something like 
'it's okay, it's over, let's forget about it.' Of course, he's not the 
one with the sore behind so it's easier for *him* to forget about it."

Fox couldn't help himself, he chuckled. "I know what you mean," he 
said. Then he frowned. "So, this is your real language?" he asked.

"No. I am American," Alex replied proudly. "My parents came from 
Russia and this is their language. They taught me the basics. I 
understand most of it but I don't really speak it." He shrugged in the 
dark, trying to find a somewhat comfortable way to lie in the bed on 
his front and still look at his friend.

Fox's curiosity was peaked. "Oh? So, what does 'Fox' mean in Russian?" 
he asked, excited.

"Lisa. Why?" When Alex saw the disappointed look on his friend's face, 
he understood the reason why. "Well, since you are male I guess you 
would be a 'lis' more than a 'lisa'," he added grinning when he 
realized that Fox preferred that version. Then he yawned heartily. 
"Are you okay, Fox?" he asked, concerned for his friend but barely 
able to keep his eyes open.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Go to sleep, Alex," Fox replied. "And thanks again 
for saving my life," he added softly.

"Anytime, boss," the other boy replied smiling, before he fell asleep.

Fox continued to listen to the two men in the main room before they, 
too, retired. They had argued about who would use the sheriff's bed 
but in the end Skinner had insisted on Sam taking it. Soon after, the 
cabin was silent except for the rhythmic breathing of Alex in his ears 
and the crackling of the fire in the main room.

But no matter how tired he was Fox just wasn't able to fall asleep.

XXXXX

He tried to find some rest but sleep eluded him. Not even looking out 
the window at the stars helped; he had to lie on his back for that and 
his buttocks hurt too much to stay in that position for long. Finally 
a quite voice next to him asked, "Fox, are you okay?"

Instead of answering the question, the boy propped himself up on his 
elbows to better look at his friend. "How come you can sleep?"

Alex was tempted to give a sarcastic comment, something along the line 
of 'technically I'm not, thanks to you' but when he saw that his 
friend was close to tears he changed tactics. "I'm not sure what you 
mean," he said cautiously.

"Well, why do you sleep like a log after...you know...what 
happened..."

"What happened?" Alex echoed, confused. Then understanding dawned. 
"Oh, that."

"Yeah, that. I mean, I can understand why *I* was punished but 
*you*..."

"In case you don't remember, Fox, I also lied. And I endangered our 
lives. I think it's safe to say that we both deserved to be punished. 
Don't you?"

Fox listlessly picked at the bed linen. "Well, yes. But...what I mean 
is...I thought...I thought your father loved you," he finally finished 
softly.

Alex shook his head in disbelief. It was in the middle of the night, 
he was tired as hell and his butt hurt. He *really* didn't want to 
have that kind of conversation right now. "Of course my father loves 
me," he replied.

"Then why did he use that switch on you?" Fox asked, confused and 
desperately trying to understand.

"Because he loves me," his friend said calmly. "I still don't see your 
problem, Fox."

"But how come he can just do this to you when he loves you?" Fox 
asked. "He hurt you! You don't hurt people you love!" After a long 
moment he added in a whisper, "I mean, I can understand why the 
sheriff would switch me but your father...?"

Somehow, through his befuddled brain, Alex suddenly realized what the 
real problem was. He slowly propped his head in one hand, turning to 
stare at his friend who kept fiddling with his pillow. "Why do you 
think Sheriff Skinner is punishing you?" he asked softly.

"He's the sheriff. It's his job to punish bad people."

Alex chuckled. "What? You think he's running around town spanking 
everyone who's not abiding the law?" He smiled at that mental image. 
"No. Actually he's not punishing anyone. At least not that way. As 
sheriff he's using the usual methods to punish people. You know, like 
throwing them in jail." Fox winced audibly, remembering only too well 
his own time in that hated cell. "What is *he* saying is the reason 
why he's punishing you?" Alex asked.

Fox sighed. "He keeps saying that when I do something wrong I have to 
be punished and that spanking me will help me remember not to do it 
again and then the slate is clean again," he babbled, obviously 
repeating a line he had heard too many times for his own liking.

"And you really think he's doing that to anyone just because he's the 
sheriff?" Alex asked, slightly mockingly. "I think that sometimes his 
hand just itches to wipe that arrogant grin off Donkey Donny's face 
but he doesn't. Why do you think that is, huh?"

"Because Donny would hit back?"

Alex gave a chuckling snort of disbelief. "Hmm, that, too. Maybe. No, 
what I mean is this: He wouldn't bother if he didn't care." He stared 
at his friend in the dim moonlight, trying to see if Fox understood.

"Jeffrey Spender gets punished, too," Fox replied instead, obviously 
grasping for straws. His friend rolled his eyes.

"Little Jeffrey is a sad bastard. Old Spender should meet a slow, 
painful death. Do you really think Jeff's being punished with reason?"

"Well, his father always finds a reason to punish him," Fox slowly 
replied. "Though I think you're right...sometimes he doesn't really 
have any reason..." He bit his lip nervously.

"Have you ever been punished without reason, Fox? I don't believe 
Sheriff Skinner would do that."

"Nooooo," Fox finally mumbled after a minute. "But still it's 
something different," he added stubbornly.

Alex sighed, quickly losing his patience. "Look, Fox, it's in the 
middle of the night and I'm really tired. Why don't we talk about this 
tomorrow morning when we're both actually awake, okay?"

"I don't think I'll still be here tomorrow," Fox replied sorrowfully, 
biting his lower lip again to keep the tears at bay.

"Why the hell not?" Alex asked, for the first time getting louder. Fox 
shushed him anxiously so Alex repeated the question in whispered 
tones. "Why the hell not, Fox?"

"Well, I guess the sheriff will throw me out tomorrow...I was 
surprised that he let me stay the night. I mean, he was so angry with 
me for screwing up *again* I'm sure he just wants to finally get rid 
of me." Fox wiped a tear from his cheek. "I mean, okay, I can buy the 
fact that your father punishes you because he loves you. But the 
sheriff isn't my father. He's doing this because he has to. He's the 
sheriff." Fox stared at his friend, making sure that Alex finally got 
*that* particular truth. "But I'm sure he's got better things to do. 
I've been so much trouble already. I mean, I guess he did like me for 
a while but now he's just angry and disappointed and wants me to 
leave..." His voice trailed off and he bit his lip again.

When he didn't hear any kind of reply for more than a minute Fox 
finally dared to look at his friend. Alex just stared at him with wide 
eyes. "With all due respect, Fox, but you are a stupid fool," was all 
Alex said before he turned around and purposefully snuggled into the 
mattress. "I'm telling you that the sheriff wouldn't bother if he 
didn't care. If you want to deny the obvious be my guest. Just don't 
keep me from my beauty sleep!"

And with that, Alex fell asleep again.

XXXXX

Could Alex really be correct? Fox pondered their conversation for 
another few minutes but he just couldn't decide what the truth was. 
Finally he crawled out of the bed and walked into the main room. 
Skinner was lying on the sofa, a blanket loosely around his lower 
body, the nightshirt straining against his broad chest. The blazing 
fire was flickering in a reddish-golden hue on his bald head, bathing 
the entire room in a soft light of dream-like quality.

Fox stared at the man for a long moment before he padded to the 
rocking chair next to the fireplace. He carefully turned it around so 
that it was facing the couch before he sat down in it. His butt hurt 
fiercely when it connected with the seat but rocking in that chair had 
always had a calming affect on the boy so he gritted his teeth and got 
as comfortable as he could.

For several minutes he just stared at the sheriff, watched the slow 
and even rise and fall of the big man's chest. Was Alex right? Did 
Skinner really care? Fox knew that their relationship wasn't anything 
like the Spenders' – even though these two were father and son and 
*should* love each other, just like the Kryceks! – but the boy still 
couldn't believe that the sheriff would truly be bothered one way or 
the other if some teenaged thief screwed up his own life. He had been 
nice to me, Fox thought glumly, but why? He almost wished that Alex 
was right, that someone took a real interest in him. Heck, he had 
tried so hard to push everyone away so that it would be easier on 
*him* to leave Independence. Still, he had never really stopped to 
think whether these people felt the same about him as he did about 
them. Would Alex be sad if I went away, Fox asked himself, and had to 
realize that his friend would probably be devastated – just like he 
would be.

Sighing, he got up. These late-night ponderings didn't do any good. 
Maybe Alex was right. Maybe he just needed to get some sleep and then, 
in the morning, things would be clearer. Fox slowly inched his way 
closer to the couch and stopped next to the sheriff, intently looking 
down on the big man's face. He bit his lip. That man had been so good 
to him up till now, taking him in, buying him clothes, giving him food 
and water, a place to sleep...

Slowly, he reached out a hand to touch the big man's chest. He seemed 
so unreal to Fox, lying there peacefully, a constant reminder of 
good-heartedness. And he was supposed to give that up?

Skinner's eyes opened and he smiled at the boy. "Hey," he said softly, 
watching for any traces of panic. The sheriff hadn't slept – in fact, 
he had heard the boys talking though he couldn't make out what they 
were saying. When he had heard that his rascal was moving into the 
main room he had decided to pretend to sleep, wanting to know what the 
boy was up to. For a moment he had been afraid that Fox was going to 
try and run away again so he was positively surprised when instead the 
boy finally walked up to him. Thinking it would be a good idea to show 
that he was indeed awake he had decided to acknowledge the boy's 
presence.

Instead of bolting to the door, Fox merely smiled back hesitantly and 
replied, "Hey." Then he stared at the floor.

The sheriff sat up a little, regarding the boy. "Couldn't sleep, hmm?" 
he asked gently.

"No. My bottom hurts," Fox replied petulantly after a long moment. 
Skinner smiled.

"I'm really sorry about that, Rascal. You have to believe me. I don't 
ever want to punish you but sometimes you leave me no choice." The 
boy's head snapped up and he stared at the big man balefully, as if to 
say 'oh, am I holding a gun to your head and force you to spank me?' 
Skinner smiled patiently. "Do you want me to get the ointment?" he 
asked, ignoring the look his rascal had thrown his way, knowing full 
well what he had been thinking.

"No, I'm fine."

"Are you sure? It's no bother. Rascal, this isn't about torture. It's 
punishment. Your bottom will be a little sore for a few days, to 
remind you that you did something wrong. That's all. I just want you 
to learn not to repeat your mistakes. And I'm sure that one day I'll 
actually succeed," he added, smiling fondly.

One day? Fox looked up, confused and hopeful at the same time. "Does 
that mean that you're not sending me away tomorrow?"

"What? Of course not!" Skinner frowned. What silly idea had the boy 
cooked up now? The big man sighed and turned on his side, scooting to 
the back of the couch. "Come here, Rascal," he coaxed gently, patting 
the place next to him. He would have preferred to sit in the rocking 
chair with the boy curled up on his lap but he figured that Fox would 
prefer to not put any pressure on his tender behind at the moment. The 
sheriff held his breath, hoping he hadn't scared the boy away with his 
invitation. Over the last couple of weeks Fox had resisted almost 
every kind of physical affection but right now he looked like a 
wounded, scared, wild animal. One that could be lured close with 
affection again. Like a fox.

Slowly, hesitantly, the boy crawled up on the couch next to the 
sheriff. He sighed in relief when he realized that his bottom wouldn't 
hurt as long as he stayed on his side. Skinner smiled reassuringly and 
reached out a hand to brush the long hair out of the boy's face. To 
his utter joy Fox didn't so much as flinch.

"Now tell me why you think I would send you away, Rascal," Skinner 
said. When the boy didn't answer he softly rapped his forehead. "What 
did I tell you right from the start, Rascal? That I would never let 
you go, right?" After a long moment Fox nodded, staring at the 
sheriff's chest. He just couldn't meet his eyes. "So, what makes you 
think I changed my mind, hmm?"

"I...I don't know. You were so...angry...today and...and I thought..."

"I wasn't angry. I was scared." Skinner gently forced the boy's head 
up so he could look at him. "I was scared I had lost you, Rascal. I 
don't want to lose you. I care about you too much to just ignore the 
fact that you had almost died."

Fox blushed furiously and stared back down. Was Alex right after all? 
Skinner had just said that he cared about him. And he had punished 
him, so he bothered. He wouldn't bother if he didn't care...

"Alex said," the boy began, only to lose his courage and stop again.

"What did Alex say, Rascal?" Skinner gently coaxed.

It took Fox a few minutes to find the courage to continue and Skinner 
patiently waited, gently caressing the boy's abundant hair in a 
soothing fashion. It seemed to calm Fox enough to finally plunge 
ahead. "Alex said that his father punished him because he loved him," 
he mumbled.

"Of course he does," Skinner replied matter-of-factly, never stopping 
the finger-combing. "I think that any kind of discipline that is 
administered without care and affection is not punishment but 
torture." He shuddered, thinking of poor Little Jeffrey Spender. It 
took him a moment to realize that Fox was staring at him with wide 
eyes. "What?" he asked, smiling.

Fox blushed again and dropped his eyes. "At least Alex has his 
father," he finally mumbled. "But I don't really have anyone. My 
parents are dead. I only have my sister."

If Skinner was hurt by that line he didn't show it. Instead he softly 
replied, "Of course you're not alone, Rascal. You have lots of 
friends, like Alex. And you have Miss Dana and Maggie." He paused, 
hoping he would not scare the boy away with what he said next. "And 
you have me."

After several agonizingly long moments Fox finally looked up, cheeks 
flushed with embarrassment, a shy grin on his face. "I do?" he asked 
softly, as if to make sure that he had definitely heard right.

"You bet," Skinner replied, grateful that he had once again his old 
Rascal back. "And no matter what you do, you won't get rid of me," he 
threatened with a smile before he took a chance and wrapped his arm 
around the slender body next to his, squeezing him lovingly.

Fox leaned into the caress, burrowing his face in the big man's chest 
happily. Alex had been right from the start! Skinner did care about 
him! And damn, no matter how much he missed his little sister and 
still wanted to find her, he realized with a start that he couldn't 
leave Independence and the people there anymore. He had found a new 
family here, people he liked and cared about, just as they liked and 
cared about him. Maybe one day he would even trust Skinner enough to 
tell him everything that had happened to him. Not yet, but soon. He 
smiled shyly at the big man. "I don't want to get rid of you," he told 
him softly, as much to reassure the sheriff as to make an official 
statement to himself.

"Good," the big man replied gruffly. "And now let's get some sleep, 
hmm?" He gently maneuvered his bulky frame and the boy around until 
Fox was lying on top of him. He instinctively knew that his rascal 
needed some physical reassurance after this whole ordeal and he would 
be damned to let him out of his immediate sight. After being deprived 
of their traditional evening cuddles in front of the fireplace Skinner 
couldn't get enough of his snuggling rascal. He rearranged the blanket 
to make sure they wouldn't grow cold and then closed his eyes.

Still, Fox had something else on his mind. Skinner felt the 
nervousness radiating from the slender body in waves. The boy was 
snuggled into his broad chest, unmoving, but he was still restless 
inside. Wrapping one arm around the waist and using the other hand to 
gently caress the back of the boy's head, he whispered, "What's on 
your mind, Rascal?"

Fox nestled at the sheriff's nightshirt. He remembered the way Sam had 
hugged and kissed Alex before, during and after the punishment. It was 
all so obvious, the care, the affection – the love. He wanted that, 
too. He missed the feeling of truly belonging somewhere, of knowing 
that no matter what would happen, there was still someone looking out 
for him. He had known that Skinner was trying his damnest to play this 
part even though he had never really wanted to admit it to himself. 
Now, after what happened today, especially after the talk they just 
had, Fox knew for certain that it was true. But still, it wasn't 
anything like Alex and Sam...

"Would you...would you be...my pa?" he finally asked so softly, so 
hesitantly, that Skinner at first was sure he had heard wrong. When 
the big man showed no reaction for a long time Fox gathered all of his 
courage and looked up at the sheriff.

Skinner had tears in his eyes and as soon as he saw that his rascal 
was looking at him nervously, he framed the small head with his two 
large hands. "I would be honored to, Rascal," he replied just as 
softly but with conviction. Then he proceeded to lean forward and 
plant a loving kiss on the boy's forehead.

It was the first kiss Fox had received from the big man and he blushed 
furiously, not sure how he felt about the kiss. It was so new, so 
strange, yet he loved what it stood for. He broke out into a huge, 
happy grin and squeezed the big man with his skinny arms, trying to 
convey all the feelings which he couldn't voice out loud.

Skinner chuckled and squeezed him back. "And now sleep," he said 
gruffly. "Your Old Meanie needs his beauty sleep."

Fox giggled, remembering that Alex had said almost the very same thing 
and then snuggled into the big man's chest again. "Okay," he said 
agreeably. Then, after a long moment, he added softly, "Good night, 
Pa."

The last thing he felt was another kiss to the top of his head.



THE END OF CHAPTER 10.


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