Author's Notes: 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. Additional Author's Notes: This one is dedicated to my dear and very talented friend Xcraft! Happy Birthday, sweetie!!! :-) Even More Additional Author's Notes: Thanks to HollyIlex and especially Josan for their help! Geez, who'd've thunk it, huh? So many tiny little problems in *one* story! ;-) Warning: Tearjerker Alert! This chapter has an official Kleenex Factor 4! (out of 5) You've been warned! Category: PG-13, Discipline Disclaimer: With all due respect, my characters have nothing to do with CC's poor and abused puppets...(that's my excuse, anyway! ) My addy is: gaby@gaby.slashcity.tv My home is at: http://gaby.slashcity.tv Summary: Fox is forced to deal with matters of the heart... INDEPENDENCE by Gaby Chapter 14: The Locket Sheriff Skinner took another sip of hot coffee and gave a contented sigh. Life was good. He was sitting on the porch of his cabin, enjoying the sunshine - which was surprisingly warm, even for a Saturday afternoon in late March - and finishing his latest project. He enjoyed working with wood, and he was immensely proud of his latest creation: A small replica of Spirit in full gallop, including flying mane and tail. The big man was lazily sandpapering the wooden horse, preparing it for the last stage, the brightly-colored paint. Fox had been doing extremely well in school according to John Byers, the teacher, and even though classes wouldn't be over for another two months, it looked as if the boy would bring home nothing but a bunch of A's. Skinner was bursting with pride and had decided to reward his Rascal with a wooden version of Spirit and Buck. Spirit was all but finished. He would start on Buck the next day, leaving the painting job till the end. It was a good thing Fox was off playing with his friends so Skinner could concentrate on his surprise. The boy could be so nosy at times, it was untrue. At least he had no idea that the big man was preparing anything special for him so he wasn't snooping around, trying to find out more. The big man sighed. Fox had been a little depressed lately. Lily Beere, the girl he was sweet on, would leave Independence soon, and that news had shocked the boy. Lily's father, the town paper's editor, had received an offer he just couldn't refuse: The man's uncle published the Boston Globe, a well-known and influential newspaper. Since the old Beere was thinking of retirement, he had decided to offer his nephew his job. Lily's father had accepted the offer, so the Beere family had been scheduled to leave for the East Coast once school was out for summer and both Lily and her brother Cal would have time to settle into their new life in Boston. Fox had been devastated by the news. Not only was he losing Lily, but Cal was one of his closest friends as well. He had tried to spend as much time as possible with both children since he knew they would be leaving Independence soon. Skinner let him, being lenient when the boy forgot about his curfew or his chores once in a while. When news came a few days ago that Old Beere had passed away in his sleep and the entire Beere family would have to move right away so Lily's father could take over the Boston Globe, Fox had been heart-broken. The Beere family would leave Independence on Monday. Skinner sighed. He would miss them, the entire family was well-liked and respected in the area. He only hoped Fox would be able to handle the loss of two friends. "Ah well," the big man muttered to himself, "I'm sure they're off getting into mischief together right this second." He grinned, took another sip of coffee and looked at the wooden horse intently, trying to find any bits and pieces that still needed to be worked on...and finding none. Extremely pleased with himself, he settled back in his chair, closed his eyes and soaked up some more sunshine. XXXXX Sheriff Skinner looked up when he heard someone approaching. In the distance, he could see a man walking determinedly towards the big man's cabin, framed by two smaller people - boys, it seemed - who struggled in the man's grasp. A minute later, the Sheriff recognized his visitors: Samuel Krycek, his son Alex...and his very own Rascal. Both boys looked a little worse for wear while Sam definitely looked angry. Skinner got up and went to meet the others in the yard. "Hi Sam. Is everything alright?" The big man looked closely at his Rascal. The clothes were torn in places as well as dirty. His face was smudged, his hair dishevelled. "Are you okay, Rascal?" the sheriff asked, concerned. But when he tried to get a closer look at the boy, Fox took a step back. He was in full pout mode. The big man turned to Alex, who wasn't as dirty as his Rascal but who was bleeding slightly in places. Especially his palms were swollen and red, as if they suffered from a bad case of rope burn. He squirmed just as much, probably knowing full well that his father would have a long and painful discussion with his bottom once they were home. "I found them at the well," Sam announced, not even bothering with polite chit-chat. "The well?" Skinner repeated, his good humor flying out the proverbial window. There was an old well, dried out years ago, which belonged to an equally old abandoned shack on the road from Skinner's cabin to Independence. It had been one of the town's children's favorite places for ages even though they knew it was dangerous and forbidden to go near. No big wonder that Fox and Alex had happily ignored that standing order. The sheriff gave both boys a stern look, and they renewed their struggles - fruitlessly, as it turned out, because Sam held their upper arms in a steel grip. "What happened?" "I do not know. I was working in the stable when Donny came to me. He told me that Fox and Alex are playing at the well. I went to the well immediately. I saw Alex with a rope in his hands. Fox was in the well." "In the well?" Skinner stared at his Rascal in disbelief. "What were you doing in the well?" "Nothin'." "Rascal!" Fox merely shrugged and managed to look bored, as if none of this had anything to do with him. Skinner felt his hackles rising. "Fox was in the well, at the other end of the rope. Alex tried to pull him out but he was not strong enough," Sam continued, stumbling over the words, the way he usually did when he got every excited - or very angry. Several times, he had to stop and repeat what he had originally said in Russian without meaning to do so. It was always a bad sign when he did that, and both boys knew that. They paled visibly. "Look at my son's hands! Stupid boys! I took the rope and pulled up Fox. Then I came here." Skinner nodded absently. "Thank you, Sam. That was very considerate of you." He turned to Fox. "Rascal, what were you doing in the well?" he asked again sternly, his patience clearly wearing out. "Nothing," the boy replied sullenly. "We were just playing. That's all." The sheriff took a deep calming breath. "Go inside and find your corner," he growled when he was sure he wouldn't explode. "Right now!" he added when the boy didn't move. Fox jumped guiltily at the tone and trudged towards the door. "It was nothing," he repeated sullenly, and it was clear that he didn't think he had done anything wrong. "And don't you dare slam the door," Skinner warned him. The boy gave him a smirk and proceeded to close the door so slowly, inch by inch, that it was clear he was mocking the big man. The sheriff took another deep breath, deciding to deal with the insolence once they were alone. "Is anyone else hurt?" he asked Sam instead, but the other man shook his head. "I found only Fox and Alex," he reported. The sheriff turned to the boy. "Alex, what were you doing at the well? You know you're not allowed near it. It's dangerous there, as you've clearly seen now." "We only played, it was nothing," Alex said forcefully. It was obvious that there was more to the story, but he didn't elaborate. "Tell the sheriff the truth, Alex. You are in big trouble. Do not make it worse!" "But Pa, there's nothing more to tell. We were just playing, and Fox wanted to know how deep the well is. He climbed down the rope, I held it for him. That's all!" Both men knew that still wasn't the truth - or, at least, not all of it - but it was obvious that Alex wasn't going to say anything else. Skinner was about to let it go, hoping to find out more once he talked to Fox, when the cabin's door slammed open and the object of his musings came stomping out, looking for all the world as if he was an innocent lamb that got treated unfairly. It was obvious that the boy was heading towards the pasture, probably to tell his beloved Spirit what a poor boy he was. "Didn't I tell you to find your corner?" Skinner growled. "I found it," Fox snapped back. "It's still where I left it: between the alcove and the window!" The big man grabbed his wayward charge, turned him around and landed two hard swats on the jeans-clad bottom before Fox could even voice his protest. The spanks were hard enough to bring tears to the boy's eyes, and he rubbed at them angrily, not wanting the others to see them. "Back inside. Find your corner *again* and *stay* there this time," Skinner ordered, giving Fox a firm shove towards the open door. The boy exchanged a glance with Alex, sniffled once and then did as he was told. The sheriff sighed deeply. And the day had started out so well, he thought ruefully. "We are going home now," Sam stated, shaking his son slightly. "Then we will have a long talk." Skinner nodded. He was going to have a similar 'talk' with his Rascal soon as well. "Thanks again for bringing the boy to me," he said to the other man. "I'm just glad they're both okay." Sam nodded wisely. "Not for long, though," he promised ominously, his intent clear. Alex winced, his bottom clenching automatically. "I see you in church tomorrow," he told the sheriff in parting before he turned around and dragged his son back towards Independence. XXXXX The sheriff entered the cabin and saw Fox slouching in his corner, hands mulishly shoved into his pants pockets. The big man was still too angry to deal with the boy, so he decided to take care of the bathwater first - not only was his Rascal dirty enough for two but it was also Saturday, bathing day. He admonished the boy sharply with a growled, "Rascal!" which prompted Fox to straighten up and pull his hands out of his pockets immediately. It was obvious that the boy had realized how deep in trouble he was so he didn't want to agitate the sheriff more. Skinner went into the kitchen to heat some water. Only when the bathtub was almost full, did he return to the main room. The big man grabbed one of the chairs from the small table, turned it around to face Fox and sat down. "Rascal," he said softly, finally having calmed down enough. "Come here, please." Fox turned around reluctantly and, with his head lowered, trudged towards the sheriff. It was obvious that he was dragging his heels. "I'm sorry," he ventured, hoping that this would work in his favor. Skinner desperately tried to hide the smile that threatened to break out on his face. "Bathwater's ready in a couple of minutes, Rascal," he mumbled instead. "Why don't we get you undressed in the meantime, hmm?" The big man helped Fox take off his clothes, at the same time examining his Rascal's body for any injuries. There were scrapes and bruises, but nothing serious. "Are you hurt anywhere?" Skinner asked, running his hands down the boy's arms, gently kneading his fingers, touching the ribcage. Nothing seemed to be broken. "No, I'm fine. Honest." Fox bit his lower lip. "Nothing happened," he repeated once again. "We were just playing." The sheriff nodded, his face clearly showing what he thought of that announcement. He held up the boy's shirt which was torn in places. "Guess someone's going to spend the evening mending his clothes," he commented. Then he locked eyes with his Rascal. "Sitting on a very sore bottom," he added meaningfully. Fox chewed on his lip again, obviously quite nervous. "But nothing happened," he argued desperately. "Well, enlighten me then. What exactly didn't happen? You didn't happen to play at the well even though it's forbidden to go near? You didn't happen to fall down said well? You didn't happen to tear your clothes in the process? You didn't happen to injure yourself in the process, however slightly?" The boy eyed the big man nervously. This didn't go well. At all. "Alex and I were just playing near the well," he began hesitantly. "I wanted to know how deep the well is. Alex didn't know. So I decided to have a look." He chanced a glance at the sheriff. "The well is dry, I couldn't have drowned!" he argued. Skinner wasn't impressed. "Um, anyway. There was still the windlass. You know, with the bucket at the end of the rope to get the water? I let the bucket drop to the bottom of the well and then climbed down the rope. Alex was at the windlass making sure everything was okay." "But everything was not okay, was it, Rascal?" Skinner interrupted softly, helping the boy out of his last garment, the longjohns. Both knees were scraped; not really bloody but red and irritated. Skinner frowned at that. "The windlass was old," Fox said hesitantly. "The wood was rotten. It collapsed." He shrugged. "Alex grabbed the rope and pulled on it. He would've gotten me out if Sam hadn't stormed in and yelled at us." "Oh, so now it's Sam's fault, is it?" Fox chewed his lip again, warned by the sheriff's tone of voice. "No," he finally conceded hesitantly. "What I mean is, we were doing fine. I could've climbed back out again. Alex was going to tie the rope to a nearby tree." Skinner raised an eyebrow. "If everything was okay, how come you're injured?" "I'm not injured," Fox protested loudly. "I just scraped my knees and my elbows a little on the walls when the windlass collapsed, is all." The sheriff raised his other eyebrow. "You do realize you're digging yourself a grave here, don't you?" he commented lightly. Fox dropped his head again, sighing. Skinner sighed as well and shook his head in exasperation. "I'm glad you weren't hurt, Rascal," he said softly, squeezing the boy's hand. Fox looked up, surprised. "But what you did was dangerous and wrong and against our rules. You know that, don't you?" The big man looked at the naked body in front of him, dirty and scraped and bruised. "Very dangerous," he added emphatically. After a deep sigh, Fox mumbled, "I know. Sorry." "Sorry doesn't cut it, Rascal. You broke our rules. You'll be punished." The boy glared at the big man defiantly. Skinner ignored him. "While you're in the bathtub you can think about what happened. Maybe you want to tell me more? You're already in trouble, Rascal, and you'll be punished no matter what. But there might be something you haven't told me yet? Something that might work in your favor?" Skinner raised a meaningful eyebrow. He just *knew* that there was still more to the story but unless his Rascal decided to 'fess up, he'd never know. Fox sighed, an air of abject misery around him, and allowed himself to be led to the wooden bathtub. "In you go, Rascal," Skinner encouraged cheerfully, handing him the dirty clothes. "Get yourself and your clothes clean. I'll prepare supper in the meantime." The big man ruffled the boy's hair gently. "And think about what I said, okay?" The boy gave the retreating back an angry glare before he began to scrub aimlessly at a dirty spot on his jeans. XXXXX About half an hour later, the sheriff stuck his head around the corner. "Supper will be ready in a few minutes, Rascal. Get going!" He held out a large towel. "I kept this close to the fireplace so it's nice and warm." Fox stood up in the bathtub, giving the big man a surprised look. Then he smiled shyly. Skinner smiled back, wrapped his Rascal in the towel and lifted the boy up and out of the cooling water. "Look who's here!" Skinner exclaimed in mock surprise after rubbing the towel over the boy's abundant hair and squeaky clean face, careful of any bruises. "Under all that dirt is actually my Rascal!" Fox couldn't help but giggle. "Okay, young man, get ready," the sheriff ordered, handing the boy his nightshirt and a pair of socks. The cabin was cozily warm because of the crackling fire in the fireplace, but it wouldn't do to catch a cold by running around on naked feet. The sheriff took the washed clothing and put them near the fireplace so they would dry quickly. Then he went back and served supper just as Fox was sitting down at the table. "Sure smells good," the boy commented with a blinding smile, digging in. Skinner wasn't fooled. He merely smiled back but wasn't sidetracked. "So, have you thought about what happened? Anything else you want to tell me?" Fox looked up, dismayed, before he shook his head. "I told you everything," he insisted. "Hmm-hmm. So, it was just you and Alex there at the well?" "Yes," Fox replied testily. "Where was Lily? Cal?" The boy looked up sharply. "They're busy packing," he muttered. "They weren't there." Skinner raised a surprised eyebrow. Fox and the Beere children had been all but inseparable lately. On the other hand, it was obvious that everyone had to help pack, especially if they were leaving day after tomorrow. "What about Donny? Why was he the one telling Sam you were playing at the well?" the sheriff asked next, surprised in the first place that 'Donkey Donny' would be allowed near Fox and Alex. They hated each other with a vengeance. It wasn't unusual for Donny to rat on others just to get them into trouble...but first, he had to have been at the site as well. "I dunno. I didn't see him. I was down in the well, remember?" Fox snapped sarcastically. When he looked up through his eyelashes, he saw Skinner's face darken visibly. The boy swallowed and added a soft, "Sir." It didn't help him much. "Fine," Skinner finally said. "If that's what happened and there isn't anything else you want to tell me, then I guess this will be your punishment: After supper, you will be paddled. Tomorrow, you will sit down on your sore bottom and write lines. 'I am not allowed near the well because it's dangerous' and 'I will finally start listening to what my Pa tells me', one hundred times each. You will spend the rest of tomorrow inside the cabin. I'm sure I'll find a few chores that need to be done." Fox gaped at the big man in shock. "You can't do that," he blurted out. "Oh, watch me." "But...but tomorrow's the last day Lily and Cal are in Independence!" Tears were starting to pool in the boy's eyes. "You should've thought of that sooner, Rascal. I'm sorry. You'll see them tomorrow in church and you'll be allowed to play with them afterwards for a few minutes. But then it's back to the cabin. You brought this on yourself." The tears threatened to fall. "Can't I write the lines next week?" Fox wheedled. "Would that be just as much a punishment?" The boy dropped his head. "No, sir," he finally mumbled, sniffling. "I'm sorry." He looked up. "I promise to be good! I swear I'll be good! Just please, let me spend tomorrow with Lily and Cal!" Skinner's heart broke when he heard his Rascal pleading like that. He sighed, knowing he couldn't win one way or the other. The boy needed to be punished, but keeping him away from his friends like that seemed to be cruel. "Tell you what," he finally offered. "We'll see how you behave until after church tomorrow, and then we'll decide when you write your lines, okay?" Fox gave the big man a blinding smile through his tears. "Yes, sir," he exclaimed eagerly. "Thank you!" The rest of supper was eaten in companiable silence, and the boy even took care of the dishes afterwards without being prompted. Only when Skinner beckoned him over to where he was sitting on the couch and told him to go and get the paddle, Fox balked. "Do I have to?" he whined. "Depends, Rascal. Do you want to spend tomorrow in the cabin?" The boy glared at the sheriff. After a long moment and sighing dejectedly, Fox turned around and stomped into his alcove where the handmade paddle was hanging on the wall as a constant reminder to be good. Skinner shook his head, smiling a little. His Rascal tried it every single time. The boy hated the paddle, even though he knew they used it sparsely. Usually, Skinner delivered a hand spanking. When the boy did something incredibly childish, he used the hairbrush. And only when Fox pulled some extremely dangerous stunt, like playing in and around the forbidden well, was he using the wooden paddle. The big man had switched his Rascal once but the boy had reacted badly to that. It reminded him too much of Old Spender using that vicious cane on him, and Skinner didn't want Fox to associate his punishments with Old Spender's torture. The sheriff didn't like belts because they gave him a hard time aiming correctly. He preferred to have his Rascal over his knees, held securely, being able to reassure him constantly, and belting the boy would be impossible that way. No, unless he needed to use something immediately that was handy, like a ruler or a wooden spoon, Skinner relied on his hand, the hairbrush or the paddle. Not that Fox liked any of these implements much. "Over my knees, Rascal," Skinner announced jovially when the boy came back with the paddle in his hand. Fox sniffled once, looked at the sheriff with wide tear-filled eyes, obviously hoping the big man would cut him some slack, and then arranged his lanky frame over Skinner's lap. "Good boy," the sheriff praised, running a soothing hand over the boy's back. "This one will be hard and fast, Rascal, so hold on tight, okay?" Fox grabbed the couch in a tight grip. "Okay, I'm ready," he muttered into the cushion, not even trying to be particularly brave. He knew the punishment would hurt, and the tears were beginning to fall. Skinner pushed the nightshirt out of the way, secured the boy over his lap and raised the paddle over his head. Without further ado he began to apply the implement, first on one cheek then the other, methodically turning the entire bottom into a nice shade of pink, then red. Fox was crying softly, trying to keep the sobs under control and grabbing the sofa even tighter to keep himself from reaching back. The sheriff didn't waste any breath lecturing his Rascal; they had talked about his misdeeds at length already. He merely wanted this punishment to be over quickly, but he did know that he had to get his point across. So instead of stopping after the entire backside was a glowing red, Skinner moved to the top of the boy's thighs, thinking that it wouldn't hurt to have a constant reminder there as well when Fox spent his time sitting on a hard wooden chair. Fox wailed and cried harder, but he not once begged the big man to stop, nor did he reach back. "Good boy," Skinner praised him after he delivered the last hard spank right in the middle of the flaming buttocks. "My brave Rascal. Come here." The big man gently eased the boy up, cradling him on his lap. Fox hissed when his sore backside came in contact with the strong thighs but he decided it was a small price to pay for one of Skinner's bear hugs. The boy threw his skinny arms around the sheriff's neck and squeezed tight. "All forgiven, Rascal," Skinner whispered in the boy's ear. "Such a good, brave boy." He rocked and cuddled the skinny body in his arms until the sobs subsided and Fox got his breathing under control again. The sheriff grabbed the wet cloth he had placed on the coffee table and gently wiped the boy's face. Fox gave the big man a hesitant smile, which Skinner happily returned. "So, Rascal, tell me. Why did I punish you, hmm?" Fox sighed, somewhat contentedly, and snuggled deeper into the big man's strong embrace. He felt safe here, and loved. "Because you're an Old Meanie," he replied. Skinner suppressed a grin and kissed the top of the boy's head. "Well, I try very hard to be one," he admitted solemnly. "But why else?" Fox buried his face in the sheriff's neck. He was still a little overwhelmed by all of this, and hiding was his way of dealing with the situation. "Because you're my Pa and you care about me." The sheriff nodded. "And love you," he added. The boy blushed and buried his face even deeper. "Yeah," he said softly. "That too." It was still hard for him to wrap his mind around that concept, but he was glad and happy that he had Skinner. After a long moment he chanced a look at the big man, seeing the love clearly written on the sheriff's face. The boy obviously loved the big man as well but love and affection, and especially trust, were still feelings Fox didn't handle too well. He grinned hesitantly, needing to get them back on safer ground, away from the emotional issues. Skinner saw the internal battle clearly on his Rascal's face. He tried to help Fox get them back on equal footing, so he grinned back and poked the boy's nose teasingly. "But you're still an Old Meanie," Fox declared solemnly a second later, causing the sheriff to laugh out loud. "Yes, I am. And you're still my Rascal." He squeezed the boy and Fox happily snuggled close again. "And from the way I see it, the clothes still aren't dry so I guess you won't have to mend them tonight after all." He sighed dramatically. "Guess that means we still have enough time for a bedtime story. What do you think?" Skinner laughed out loud again when he watched his Rascal jump up and run into his alcove like greased lightning to retrieve the book they were currently reading. XXXXX Church was just as boring as always, at least in Fox's opinion, but since he spent every minute of the service exchanging glances with Lily, it wasn't half as bad. He had realized that Alex was squirming in his seat as much as he himself did, so Fox took an educated guess and decided that his friend had been on the receiving end of a paddle as well - if not something even worse. The Beere family got blessed for their long journey back to the East Coast at the end of the sermon, and everyone filed out of the church to officially say good-bye to their respected neighbors. Fox was disappointed to see both Lily and Cal standing in front of their parents, politely thanking each townsperson who wished them well. He had wanted to run around and play with his friends, not watch them be all well-mannered! It took quite a while until everyone had said their good-byes so when Mrs Beere finally realized what time it was, she exclaimed, "Oh dear, we really must be going! Look how late it already is! We still have so much to pack and get ready!" Fox turned pleading eyes on his Old Meanie, begging him silently to step in. Skinner sighed internally and walked over to talk to the children's parents. After much debate, they agreed to let Lily and Cal say their good-byes to Fox and Alex in private for a few minutes - not much, but more than Fox had hoped for. Suddenly tongue-tied, the four children stood in a circle, shuffling their feet nervously. After a long minute, Lily finally ventured, "I sure hope you two will keep a close eye on Donkey Donny! I don't want to hear anything about him suddenly ruling this town!" Alex grinned. "Don't worry, Fox and I will make sure he'll get into enough trouble." Fox smirked. "Yeah," he enthused. "Maybe we're lucky and he'll leave Independence once school's over! In case he doesn't flunk everything." The children giggled at that. Donny was supposed to finish school that year, but his grades were very bad. They didn't know what was better: Watching Donny having to repeat a class or having him out of the way. "Well, I'll miss him," Cal piped up. When everyone stared at him in disbelief, he added, "He was always so much fun to play tricks on!" The others agreed, and Fox and Alex promised to continue their tradition. All too soon, Mrs Beere called her children over. Lily sighed deeply and turned to Fox. "Will you be here tomorrow morning when the coach leaves?" The boy nodded solemnly. "I promise." Lily smiled. "Good. Then I won't say good-bye yet because we'll see each other again!" All four children smiled bravely, each one trying not to cry, when they parted. Fox made his way back to Skinner, pretending nothing was bothering him. The sheriff knew his Rascal and realized that all he could do right now was treat the boy normally. If he needed reassurance or consolation, he would come to the big man. As long as Fox clearly showed he wanted to be left alone, it was the worst thing anyone could do to actually try and force him to open up. XXXXX When they reached the cabin, Fox dutifully went inside and started to mend his clothes. Skinner had shown him how to do that before they had left for church and, after a little period of trial and error, the boy was getting good at it. The sheriff prepared a light lunch to snack on which they both ate in companionable silence, then the big man announced he would go to his woodshed. Fox nodded, washed the dishes and sat down to write his lines. Skinner was a little worried about his Rascal and hoped that the initial period of mourning would be over quickly. He could understand the boy's feelings and he would make damn sure that Fox would feel loved and cherished, but in the end it was Fox himself - and nobody else - who could help himself. Well, the sheriff reasoned while he started to carve Buck out of a block of wood, maybe a few stacks of waffles and some extra quality time reading together in the rocking chair will help, too. XXXXX A few hours later the door to the woodshed slammed open, causing Skinner to almost have a heart attack. His Rascal was standing in the doorway, eyes wide, panting heavily. The sheriff quickly hid the wooden Buck and turned around to scold the boy. "You know you aren't allowed in here, Rascal," he began. "And you know you should always knock before entering. And weren't you told to stay inside the cabin today?" "But this is important," Fox yelled, agitated. "I suddenly remembered something. Alex is in trouble. We have to go and help him!" Skinner frowned, totally lost. "Trouble? Help him? Why?" Fox was basically bouncing up and down, hardly able to wait for the sheriff to finally get a move on. The big man walked over, put his hands on the boy's shoulders and squeezed reassuringly. "First you will tell me what is wrong, Rascal. I will not move until I know what's going on." Fox groaned in exasperation but realized he truly wasn't going anywhere. He took a deep breath and, speaking as fast as he could, explained, "I was writing my lines when I suddenly remembered what Alex said to me before we went home after church because he said to me that he'd fix things but I didn't know what he meant at the time but now I think I do and if I'm right then he's in big trouble and possibly in danger and that's why we have to go and help him and..." Skinner tried to shush the boy several times and, when he realized it wasn't working, matter-of-factly placed one hand over his Rascal's mouth. That did indeed shut him up. For a second. "What do mean, you think you now know what he meant? Fix what? How?" "The well," Fox blurted. "We have to go back to the well!" The sheriff frowned, suddenly having a bad feeling about this. "Why the well?" "I promise I'll explain it to you on the way, but *please* come with me right away, Pa! Please!" The naked terror in the boy's eyes galvanized Skinner into action. "Okay, let's go," he said, pushing Fox out of the way. He ran into the stable to grab a coil of rope and his rawhide gloves, realizing that they would be faster on foot than on horseback since he would have to saddle Buck first. Running alongside the sheriff, Fox explained, "Miss Dana gave me an old locket a while ago. Nothing fancy, it's pretty cheap. She found it in the back of the store somewhere. Thought I could use it maybe." He gulped in a few breaths of air. "I cleaned it and polished it until it looked real nice. It's a silvery locket on a chain, but it's not real silver. You can open the locket and put two tiny pictures inside if you like." Skinner nodded. He had seen lockets like this before. "So? What does that have to do with Alex and the well?" he asked, slightly out of breath already. "I made two tiny drawings. One of a fox, one of a lily. You know, so she would remember me." The sheriff could have sworn that the shade of pink on his Rascal's face was not due to running in the warm afternoon sun. "That's very sweet, Rascal," he wheezed. Fox nodded. "Yeah, well. I showed the locket to Alex yesterday. We weren't really near the well, I swear. We were on the road. But when we saw Donkey Donny coming our way, we ran and tried to hide. He found us and wanted to see what Alex was hiding behind his back. Donny managed to catch him but before he could grab my locket, Alex threw it to me." The boy looked at the sheriff, misery clearly written on his face. "It's not heavy. It dropped before I could catch it. It fell into the well." Skinner suddenly understood what had happened. "So that's why you climbed down that rope?" he asked. "And why didn't you tell me about the locket before? I still would've punished you for doing something dangerous and stupid, but I might have been a little more lenient with you." The boy shrugged as much as he could, still running full bout. "Guess I was embarrassed," he mumbled. The sheriff smiled. It had been so obvious that Fox was sweet on Lily right from the start, but they both pretended they were merely friends. "Well, whatever the reason, you could have still come to me or any other adult and said something. We would've found a way to get the locket back without you climbing down into the well," he gently admonished. "And now Alex is trying to get it for you, am I right?" Fox nodded. "I'm afraid so. He thinks it's his fault the locket fell into the well. That's what he meant when he said he'd fix things." They passed a large boulder at that moment and were finally able to see the old abandoned house as well as the dried-out well in front of it. There was no Alex anywhere near the well but there was a rope tied to a tree and leading into the well. Alex had obviously done what the boys had planned to do the day before. "I so hope I'm wrong," Fox said desperately. Skinner agreed silently but when they came closer, he could hear a soft voice calling out for help. "Damn," the big man muttered, stopping next to the well and looking inside. "Alex? Are you down there?" he yelled. There was no reply at first but after a few seconds a timid voice asked, "Sheriff, is that you?" "Yes, Alex, it's me. William is here as well. Are you okay?" "Fox? Fox, I have your locket!" Alex yelled triumphantly. "I have it right here!" "That's great, Alex, but...why were you calling for help?" Fox shared a nervous look with the sheriff. "Are you okay?" There was another long pause. "I, uh...I fell," Alex finally admitted. "The rope is so brittle, it didn't support my weight in the end. I can't get out by myself anymore." Skinner sighed and uncoiled the rope he had brought along. "No reason to panic, Alex," he reassured the boy in a calm soothing voice. "I'll throw a new rope down for you and you can climb up, okay?" This time, the silence stretched into almost an entire minute. The sheriff finished tying the rope to the tree, making doubly sure the knot would hold, before he went back to the well. "Alex?" he called. "I'll throw down the rope now. Watch out, okay?" When there still was no reply, he repeated, "Alex? Okay?" A very timid frightened voice replied, "No, sir. It's not okay. I, uh...I can't climb up by myself." There was another pause and Skinner was shocked to hear the first few sobs. "I think I broke my arm when I fell down..." "Sweet Jesus," the big man cursed under his breath. He turned to Fox who was standing only a foot away, white as a sheet, obviously shocked by this turn of events. "Rascal, I want you to run into town and get Sam Krycek and Doc Brown," the sheriff instructed the boy. Fox didn't even seem to hear him. He just stared at the well. "This is all my fault," he whispered. "All my fault." Skinner took a deep calming breath. He had to concentrate on Alex right now, he couldn't deal with a catatonic Fox as well. "Rascal," he said forcefully, grabbing the boy by the shoulders. "I need your help, son. I can't do it without you." Fox looked up, really seeing Skinner for the first time. The big man smiled at him warmly as reward. "Good boy," he praised. "Now listen to me, okay? Get Sam and the doctor. I will take care of Alex in the meantime. I promise everything will be okay." He gave the boy a reassuring hug before he sent him on his way. Then he turned back to the well. "Alex? If I make a loop at the end of the rope, do you think you could wrap it around your waist or sit in it? I would pull you up then. Is just your arm hurt or anything else as well? An ankle, maybe?" Alex was steadily crying by now, the stress and fear finally catching up with him. He sniffled. "No, sir, just the arm," he reported. "I think I could manage." "Good boy," Skinner praised, already working on the loop. "You're very brave, Alex, I'm proud of you. Okay, I'll throw the rope down now. Can you see anything? Or is it too dark down there?" The big man couldn't even guess where Alex was, it was too dark to see. But the boy was looking up, into the light, so maybe he was luckier. "I can see the rope," Alex announced. "I'll try to wrap it around my waist now." Skinner watched the rope moving around a little, then the boy called up, "Okay, I'm in. I'll try to help you by walking up the walls, okay?" "You'll do no such thing, Alex," Skinner ordered sternly. "You'll hold on tight to the rope with your good arm, and that's all you're gonna do!" More sniffling. "Okay, sir." "Good." Skinner flexed his hands, glad he had brought along his gloves, and grabbed the rope. "Here we go!" he warned the boy and started pulling Alex up. XXXXX It was difficult work because the sheriff wanted to make sure that Alex didn't bump into the walls with his bad arm unnecessarily, but after a while he had the boy close to the edge. He wrapped the rope around the tree a few more times, making sure it didn't have much slack, before he went over to retrieve the adventurer. Alex sobbed loudly and wrapped his good arm around the sheriff's neck in a death grip once he was safe from harm, just as his father and the town's physician came running up behind Fox. "Look, I have your locket," Alex announced, digging in his pants pocket and holding it out for Fox to take. His friend grabbed it automatically, his eyes fixed on the other boy's badly mangled left arm. It was twisted, part of a bone was sticking out, and blood was flowing freely. Sam was in hysterics, yelling in Russian, crying loudly. Doc Brown was already looking for sticks to use as splints. Skinner rocked the boy in his arms reassuringly, vowing that he would destroy the damned well personally before the day was over. He shouldn't have worried, though. There were enough townspeople who gladly volunteered for the job, and once it was clear that Alex's arm would be saved and that what he most needed right now was rest, Skinner and Fox went back home. "I hope you finally understand that sometimes father knows best," the sheriff told the boy. "When I tell you something is dangerous, when I tell you to stay away from somewhere, then you'd better listen to me. Is that clear once and for all?" Fox hung his head, still shaken by his friend's injury. "Yes, sir," he replied softly. "I'm sorry. I'll be good from now on." Skinner sighed and drew the boy into a fierce hug. "You *are* good, Rascal. You're a good boy. I wouldn't want you any differently. Just please remember that your curiosity and sense for adventure can be dangerous. The locket falling into the well yesterday was stupid, but it wasn't your fault. What *was* your fault, however, was the fact that you didn't come to me and asked for help. I'm always here to help you. You know that, don't you?" Fox nodded into the big man's strong chest. "It's *not* your fault that Alex decided to go back and get the locket himself. That was his own stupid decision," Skinner went on forcefully, wanting to make it perfectly clear that his Rascal wouldn't blame himself. "But I know you, son, and I know that you would've done the same thing if the roles had been reversed. That wouldn't have made me happy at all." He gave the boy a stern look and Fox had the decency to blush. "Yes, sir, I understand," he mumbled. "I'll do better, I promise." "Just promise me you'll use your head before you jump into action, and I'm happy," Skinner smiled. The boy smiled back hesitantly and nodded his agreement. "Good. Then I can spend the rest of the day enjoying some quality time with my Rascal," the big man announced, dragging the boy over to the rocking chair and settling both of them in it. He just had an incredible urge to make sure that his Rascal was okay, and somehow he felt that Fox needed the same reassurance as well. He smiled at the boy who had happily snuggled up to the big man. "So...who gets to read out loud first?" XXXXX It seemed as if the entire town of Independence was up and about to say good-bye to the Beere family. Even Alex had been allowed to join, even though Doc Brown had been adamant that the boy needed rest, and lots of it, so outings were forbidden. He wasn't going to school, he wasn't going to help his father in the livery stable and he wasn't allowed to entertain many visitors for any amount of time. Saying farewell to the Beeres, however, was so important to Alex that the physician had grudgingly agreed he could spend five minutes outside, waving after the retreating coach. The driver was busily hauling the family's various suitcases on top of the coach while everyone wished their friends good luck. The Beeres had sold their house, most furniture included, to a family that had been looking for a bigger place since their fifth child had been born, so they only took essentials with them. There was an old big mansion waiting for them back in Boston. Lily walked up to Alex who stood a bit off to one side, in order not to be jostled by the masses. Cal was trailing after her, smiling happily when he saw Fox standing there as well. "Guess this is it," Lily said, playing nervously with the end of her long, blond braid. She looked at Alex. "Promise me not to fall into any other wells in the future! I don't want to hear about any broken limbs, is that clear?" Alex smiled a little sadly. "I'll try," he mumbled. "But at least you're not here to kick my butt." "You just wait and see. I'll set the sheriff on you," Lily promised solemnly. Everyone giggled. She turned to Fox who was busy toeing the ground. In the background, he could hear Cal and Alex plan some last-minute pranks. "I, uh...I have something for you," Fox mumbled, holding out the locket, eyes still firmly on the floor, face blushing a fiery red. "Oh Fox, this is beautiful," Lily breathed after a second. "Thank you so much! This is..." She choked up a little and Fox finally looked at her. He had never witnessed a Lily who was at a loss for words. She just stared at the locket, tears brimming in her eyes. "Open it," he suggested softly. Lily did and, when she saw the two tiny drawings of a fox and a lily, the tears started to fall unchecked. She threw her arms around Fox and squeezed him tight. "Thank you so much, Fox. I'll always wear it, I promise!" The boy helped her put it on, smiling happily that she liked his present. "I've got something for you as well," Lily announced, wiping her eyes and clearing her throat, becoming a bit more business-like again. She held out a small white box made out of porcelain. There were flowers painted on the lid - lilies, Fox realized with a small sad smile - and when he opened the lid, he saw a curled blond lock inside. He looked up, astonished. Lily fingered her braid again nervously. "I thought this would help you remember me...you always told me you liked my hair..." She blushed. "I did...I do...I..." Fox was at a loss for words. He swallowed a few times, not sure what to say, before he finally croaked, "Thank you. I'll put this on my nightstand." Lily giggled at that. "I'll miss you," Fox added a few seconds later. "I don't want you to leave." The girl looked at him sadly, nodding. "I don't want to leave either, Fox, but I'll only be in Boston. We can still write letters! And maybe you'll visit me someday!" Fox nodded. He knew that they would very probably never see each other again, but he could write letters with the best of them! "I'll write a few lines every single day," he promised solemnly. "That way, you'll always know what's going on here in Independence!" "I wouldn't want it any other way," Lily agreed smiling. "And make sure to tell me everything about Alex's recovery, okay?" "Will do," Fox promised. They stared at each other for another few moments, heart-broken. Cal jumped in with a wide grin on his face. "Here, you take this," he announced happily and thrust a slingshot at Fox who grabbed it automatically. "Alex made it for me last year." Fox nodded. He remembered that day as if it were yesterday. It had been his first day in school. "I don't think I'll have much use for it in Boston but it's a great weapon against the Donkey. You and Alex, you'll use it wisely, you hear?" Fox couldn't help himself, he laughed out loud. The tension was over and he promised with a sincere face that he would do anything within his power to make Donkey Donny's life a living hell, with the help of the slightly incapacitated Alex, of course. And he promised to write down everything in great detail and send more letters, while he busily stuffed the slingshot into the back pocket of his jeans for safekeeping. All too soon the coach was scheduled to leave, so Lily and Cal reluctantly walked up to their parents. Sam Krycek and Sheriff Skinner went to their respective sons, trying to offer reassurance. Sam wrapped one arm around his son's shoulders, mindful of the injury, while Fox buried himself in the sheriff's strong embrace, desperately clutching the small box with Lily's hair in it. Skinner caressed the back of the boy's head reassuringly while he matter-of-factly confiscated the slingshot. Fox didn't even seem to realize it was gone. After a few moments, Skinner gently turned him around so that Fox could at least wave good-bye. Safely leaning against the big man's broad chest, one burly arm wrapped around his slender chest, Fox joined into the collective waving and wishing well when the coach pulled out of Independence. As soon as it left Main Street, he turned around and buried himself in Skinner's chest again, crying softly. "It's okay, Rascal, it's okay to be sad," Skinner whispered softly, nodding at Sam and Alex who reluctantly left to go back home. "I'm not sad," Fox muttered mulishly, as if that would be considered a weakness. "I just don't want them to go, is all." Skinner smiled slightly, rocking the boy a little while he watched the townspeople dispersing and returning to their regular life. "It's not as if they left you forever, Rascal," the big man reasoned. "Okay, they don't live down the street anymore, but you can still write letters, right? I'm sure Lily and Cal would love to hear from you soon." "We already promised to send letters," Fox replied, wiping his face with the back of his hand. "We're not stupid, you know," he added, sulking. The sheriff chuckled. "Of course you're not stupid. I didn't say that. I would never say that, Rascal. I think it's a great idea that you want to stay in touch." He pushed back the cowlick that always tickled the boy's forehead. Fox looked up. "Friendships aren't defined by distance, Rascal." They stared at each other for a long moment until Fox finally gave a ghost of a smile. "Thank you, Pa," he whispered, wrapping his skinny arms around the big man and giving a fierce squeeze. "Have mercy," Skinner wheezed, causing the boy to laugh - just what the sheriff had intended in the first place. He grew solemn once more. "I'll leave the office sooner this afternoon and meet you in front of the school. Then he can spend the rest of the day at home. What do you think?" Fox looked at the big man with wide eyes. Skinner was a stickler when it came to responsibility and his job and the like, so this was a very unusual offer. "I wanted to visit Alex after school, to bring him our homework," he replied. "I don't think Alex is allowed to do homework right now, Rascal. He lost a lot of blood yesterday when that bone punctured one of his veins. He's supposed to rest." Skinner sighed when he saw the forlorn look on the boy's face. "Did Doc Brown allow you to visit Alex?" he asked softly. "Well, he said I could drop by after school for five minutes everyday," Fox reported, obviously feeling proud to be bestowed with such honor. "He didn't say anything about homework...but you know Alex, he's so crazy about school and stuff, he will *want* to do his homework!" Skinner chuckled. "You're probably right," he sighed. "But, for just this week, let's leave school out of your visits, okay?" Fox nodded hesitantly. "Okay. Then I'll pick you up at Alex's this afternoon?" Still not believing his luck, the boy grinned and nodded happily. XXXXX Skinner had thought that spending some quality time with his Rascal would help deal the boy with his 'loss'...but instead, a subdued Fox merely sat down at the small table inside the cabin and began to do his homework. The big man knew that pushing it would be wrong; the boy needed to come to him out of his own volition, trying to force him to open up would only result in him building up protective walls. Skinner knew all that, but watching the boy, obviously being sad, broke the big man's heart. The sheriff decided to make his Rascal's favorite meal for supper, but even that didn't get much of a reaction. The boy merely smiled absently in thanks before he dug in. At least he hadn't lost his appetite. But still, the meal was consumed in silence, and when Fox stood up to take care of the dishes without having to be prompted - or muttering about the injustice of it all - Skinner knew that something was wrong, that something had to be done. So he couldn't force the boy to open up, but he could at least show his Rascal that he was there for him if need be. Fox sat back down at the table to finish his homework and then pulled a sheet of paper out of his notebook, obviously starting his letter to Lily. When Skinner saw the tears starting to pool in the boy's eyes, he had enough. Walking over to the obviously distraught boy, he gently suggested, "Rascal, why don't you get ready for bed? That way you can then do whatever you want right up till bedtime." The boy merely nodded and stood up without making so much as a snippy remark - something else entirely unlike Fox - and Skinner went to his woodshed to retrieve the wooden Spirit he had made. Just as Fox was sitting down again, clad in his nightshirt, Skinner came back inside and walked right up to his Rascal, the small horse hidden behind his back. The boy looked up, seemingly angry that the big man would intrude his privacy like that but unable - or unwilling - to say or do anything about it. Skinner ignored that look, privately thinking that this was the first emotion he had seen from the boy since this morning. "I have something that I would like to give you," he started, watching Fox closely. Curiosity won the battle over anger, just as Skinner had predicted, and two wide hazel eyes blinked up at the big man. "It's not entirely finished and I'll happily take care of that as soon as I can, with your permission of course, but I wanted to give it to you right now regardless." By now the boy's curiosity had peaked several times and he practically bounced up and down in his chair, trying to see what the sheriff was hiding. Skinner smiled and held out the small wooden horse. Fox gasped. "This is supposed to be Spirit," Skinner explained. "I still have to paint him, of course." "I can see this is Spirit," Fox interrupted the big man, fingering the wooden toy reverently. "It's beautiful. It's perfect." He bit his lower lip, trying to keep the tears at bay - and failing. "I don't want you to paint him, he's perfect the way he is. Looks just like Spirit," he mumbled through his tears, staring at the wildly galloping figure with billowing mane and tail. "Thank you so much, Pa," Fox choked out before he jumped out of his chair and into the big man's arms. Skinner congratulated himself. Finally the boy was opening up to him. So it took a little bribery, but sometimes he just had to be a little sneaky with his Rascal. The boy obviously needed to let go, to cry and mourn for his friends who were now headed towards Boston, and if giving him a half-finished toy was doing the trick, who was he to argue? Fox was hugging Skinner's neck forcefully, threatening to choke the big man, so the sheriff helped him wrap his legs around the waist and carried him "piggyfront-style" to the rocking chair where he arranged them both into their preferred position, with the big man sitting comfortably and the boy safely nestled on his lap, curled up sideways with his head on Skinner's shoulder. Fox sighed happily, snuggling a little closer still, and played with the wooden horse. Neither one of them said anything for long minutes, and Skinner would have been satisfied with the boy softly crying out his misery on his lap without discussing anything further, when a tentative voice suddenly asked, "Pa?" "Hmm?" Skinner wrapped both arms around the boy, squeezing reassuringly. "Pa, why does it hurt?" The sheriff blinked, not entirely sure what Fox was talking about. "Hurt? What hurts, Rascal?" Fox moved his head a little, still nestled on the big man's shoulder but now looking up at the sheriff. "In here," he explained, one hand ghosting over his chest while the other still clutched the wooden horse. "It hurts in here." Skinner frowned, still not entirely sure what the boy was talking about. Then he had an inkling. "Oh, you mean, why does your heart hurt now that your friends are gone?" he asked softly. Fox looked back down at the toy in his hand, nodding. "I don't want it to hurt. Did I do something bad?" "Oh Lord, no, Rascal!" Skinner exclaimed, squeezing the skinny body fiercely. "Quite the contrary, you did something good. You were a good friend to Lily and Cal. That's why it hurts right now." "But why?" Fox wailed, sounding like a little terrified boy who didn't know what was happening to him. He pushed the palm of his hand against his heart, as if trying to keep it from leaping out of the ribcage. "It shouldn't hurt when I'm good," he added, almost petulantly. Skinner couldn't help but smile. Somehow, the boy's logic made sense. Still, it didn't work that way. He sighed, trying to come up with a way to explain why his Rascal's heart was hurting right now. After several long moments, he began. "Everyone and everything that's important to you has a place in your heart." Fox looked up, startled, and brushed his hand over his chest again, as if trying to make sure that there weren't suddenly tiny people jumping out of his heart. Skinner smiled. "Figuratively speaking, of course. And since you have such an incredibly big heart, a lot of people have found a place in it." The boy frowned, not entirely convinced. He only trusted a handful of people, he didn't even like most individuals he came in contact with. Why should any of those be in his heart? "Okay, let's put it this way, Rascal. It always depends on how much you like someone - or something, for that matter. The more you like a person, the bigger the place in your heart for them is." When Fox continued to look doubtful, the sheriff decided to use an example. "Let's take this wooden horse here," he said, tapping the new toy in the boy's hands. "You like it, don't you?" Fox nodded vigorously. "So, it's got a place in your heart. It's not a big place, not yet, but it's in your heart nevertheless. So, if something should happen to the horse..." "Nothing will ever happen to it!" Fox interjected forcefully, clutching the toy close to his heart. "I would never allow it!" The sheriff smiled indulgently and ruffled the boy's hair. "Of course you won't, Rascal. I'm just trying to make a point here. Now, imagine something happened to it. You'd be sad, wouldn't you?" Fox nodded. "You wouldn't necessarily cry over it or be sad for a long time, but that's because the place in your heart for that particular toy isn't all that big." From the look on the boy's face, Skinner realized he wasn't making any progress. He tried again. "If something happened to Spirit," he began, but was very forcefully interrupted by his Rascal who glared at him angrily. "Nothing will ever happen to Spirit! Don't even say it! It's bad luck to talk about something like that!" Skinner was surprised by the vehemence and immediately changed tactics. "Okay," he started again. "Let's take Alex. He's your best friend, isn't he?" Fox bit his lip and nodded hesitantly, not knowing where this was leading. "So when he injured his arm yesterday, you were very sad, weren't you?" Fox nodded again. "I cried," he mumbled, as if embarrassed. "Yes, you did. And it's only natural to cry since he's your best friend and you care about him a lot. His pain was your pain. Alex has a big place in your heart, Rascal. So your reaction to his injury and distress was naturally stronger than it would've been if your toy here had been damaged." The boy chewed on his lip thoughtfully. "So, the bigger the place in my heart, the more I cry when something bad happens?" he finally summed up what he thought the big man was trying to tell him. Skinner smiled. "Just about, yeah." "But why does it hurt then?" "Well, your heart hurts because something happens to it. Let's put it this way: that place someone or something has in your heart, it can grow bigger or smaller, depending on how much they mean to you." Fox nodded. He had understood that part. "But if something terrible happens, if your toy wouldn't just be damaged but destroyed or if your friend leaves town forever, then it's as if that place in your heart was ripped away." Fox stared in shock first at the big man, then at his chest. "You...you mean...you mean there's like a...a hole in my heart now? Where Lily and Cal had their places?" Skinner cocked his head. Pretty good analogy, he thought. "Yeah, something like that. That's why your heart hurts so much right now. Because there's a hole in it." "Two," Fox corrected. "Lily and Cal. Two." "Right. Two. I'm sorry." The sheriff couldn't help but smile slightly at the way his Rascal seemed to grasp the concept. "Yeah, two big holes. One's slightly bigger than the other, though," the boy mumbled, blushing furiously, obviously embarrassed that Lily would mean more to him than Cal. After a long moment Fox added, almost shyly, "And these holes...they're the ones that hurt my heart right now?" Skinner shrugged a little helplessly. "Yeah, I guess so. I mean, there aren't real holes in your heart, Rascal, it just feels that way. As if part of your heart is suddenly missing. But yes, essentially these holes are the reason your heart hurts right now." Fox nodded, deciding that this made sense. He sighed. "What can I do to make it stop?" "You can do what we should always do when we have a hole in our hearts," Skinner replied, causing the boy to look at him with wide eyes. The big man smiled gently. His Rascal was always so eager to learn new things, to soak up knowledge like a sponge. Right now, it was the secret of mending hearts. "You can fill up the holes in your heart with good memories. Think of all the good times you had with Lily and Cal, remember how you played together, how you learned for school together, how you played pranks on the town's poor sheriff..." That caused the boy to giggle - music in Skinner's ears. "I can do that," Fox stated solemnly. "There are lots of good memories!" "And you need lots of good memories because they are big holes that need to be filled, right?" The boy nodded sadly. "But think of it this way, Rascal: the bigger the hole is, the bigger the place in your heart was originally. And the bigger the place in your heart was..." "The more important that person was to me," Fox finished softly. Then inspiration struck, and he beamed at the sheriff. "And the more good memories I have of that person!" Skinner smiled back. "Exactly. There should always be enough good memories to fill up each hole that you might ever have in your heart. And in case you feel that it's still not filled up, you just have to think long and hard, trying to remember other good times with that person until you find that one missing good memory. And that in itself can be very rewarding, thinking back to all the wonderful times you were allowed to spend with that one person." Fox smiled hesitantly. "Yeah, I guess," he said softly, liking the mental image Skinner had created but knowing that it wasn't that easy. He sighed. The big man instantly felt something was wrong. He cuddled the boy in his arms gently. "What is it, Rascal? What's bothering you?" Fox fingered the wooden horse nervously. Finally he muttered, "This has happened so many times already. I don't want it to happen again." Skinner frowned, not knowing what his Rascal was talking about. "What happened before?" he asked softly. "I've had holes in my heart before. And they were all big holes. Where my sister's place has been. And my parents'..." Tears brimmed in the boy's eyes when he looked up at the sheriff. "Pa? What happens when there are too many holes? Does...does the heart collapse then? Is that what people call a broken heart?" The utter despair in the boy's eyes and voice almost caused Skinner's own heart to break. He wrapped Fox into a bear hug, intending to never let him go again. "I guess you could say that. It's either too many holes or one hole that's just too big. That sometimes happens when someone loses the one person that means more to them than life itself." He kissed the top of the boy's head. "But don't worry about that, Rascal. You're young and strong. You have so much kindness to give, you'll always find people who will want to have a place in your heart. You'll never be alone. And you'll always have enough good memories to fill up the holes that are in your heart." "But...but I don't want any more holes in my heart," Fox sobbed stubbornly. "If I stop giving people places in my heart I won't get holes either, right?" "Rascal, don't ever say that! How could you even think that? Letting someone in your heart is the most rewarding thing in the world. Would you have preferred to not be Lily's friend, not getting to know her and play with her and have fun, just so you wouldn't have that hole in your heart now? Isn't that worth the risk?" Fox seemed to give it some serious thought before he finally nodded reluctantly. "I guess you're right," he mumbled in Skinner's chest. "It's worth it. But...but it still hurts!" "I know it does, Rascal, I know it does. But it'll get better as soon as you think of all the good memories and start to fill up that hole. I promise." There was a soft sniffling sound before a tentative voice said, "Okay." They cuddled a few more minutes, Fox playing with his wooden horse, Skinner gently rocking back and forth with the chair, humming softly, trying to get his Rascal to fall asleep in his arms. Instead, the boy suddenly locked eyes with the sheriff. "Pa? Will you promise me one more thing?" Skinner was surprised by the vehemence of the request, and he realized that something big was happening. "I can only promise something when I know what it is, Rascal," he reasoned, showing the boy how serious he was about whatever was going to happen next. "Otherwise I wouldn't be honest, and then the promise wouldn't mean anything, right?" Fox frowned, thought it over and then nodded, obviously happy that Skinner was taking his request truly seriously. "Okay. Pa, will you promise never to make a hole in my heart?" The sheriff was totally shocked by those words, and he was at a loss for words. "I don't think there are enough good memories in the whole wide world to fill up that hole," Fox continued, oblivious to the big man's shock. "And I don't want my heart to collapse and break. Will all the other good memories in the other holes be gone as well when the heart breaks? I don't want to lose my good memories. And I don't want to lose you." Finally able to move - and breathe - again, Skinner squeezed the boy so tightly that he threatened to break his Rascal's ribcage. "I promise with all my heart that I will never leave you," the big man stated fiercely. "If you promise me the same thing." Fox looked at the sheriff with wide eyes. Then he shrugged, as if Skinner's request had been just for a glass of water. "Of course," he replied airily. "I won't ever leave you. What's the difference in you going away and leaving me behind, or the other way around? We'd still be separated. And I don't want that to happen. Ever!" "Me neither, Rascal," Skinner agreed, unable to believe this turn of events. The same boy who had been fighting him tooth and nail for the longest time, who had constantly tried to convince him that he needed to go and find his sister, was now saying that he would never leave again. And, from the way he had phrased his request, his Rascal seemed to consider him to be the most important person in his life...otherwise he wouldn't have the biggest place in the boy's heart. Skinner couldn't help himself: he grinned like an idiot, insanely happy. He was interrupted by a musing Fox. "Pa? Do I have to find the good memories all by myself, or can you help me?" "What do you mean, Rascal?" "Well, I want to start filling up that hole Lily left behind," the boy explained. "I thought it might work better if I could share some of my good memories with you while I'm at it." He looked at the big man with wide hopeful eyes. Skinner blinked, trying to keep the sudden tears at bay. "I would be honored, Rascal," he replied. "Great!" Fox grinned happily, his world now seemingly back in order. He snuggled closer to the big man's chest and stared at the flickering flames in the fireplace. "Let's see," he mused out loud. "How about we begin with that one time Lily and Cal and Alex and I managed to fool the town's poor sheriff into looking for some seemingly lost gold nuggets in Old Henderson's pig sty until he was all dirty and muddy?" He giggled. "How about we start by giving a cheeky Rascal a thorough tickling before we start remembering that silly ol' incident," Skinner retorted, letting actions follow words. Soon, the cabin was filled with Fox's delighted giggling and Skinner's roaring laughter - and that helped mend a hurting heart as well. THE END OF CHAPTER 14.