Title: Anthony, Book Three
Author: Clare Skinner

Summary: The danger was past... and the woman AD Walter Skinner had fallen in love with was forever safe from the Consortium. Who would have believed that actually *making* love to her would be the hard part?

Book Three contains the next two segments of my Anthony series, both of which have been revised. This Book continues the alternate universe series about AD Skinner and his son and contains explicit passages of sex. The stories are rated as such:

• Lifelong Commitments: NC-17
• Holiday Bustle: NC-17

Flashbacks, if any, are indicated by the following characters: + + + + + + at the beginning and end of the sequence.

Many thanks to Elizabeth, my Beta Reader, again.

The X-Files and its characters are copyrighted by Chris Carter, Ten Thirteen Productions and 20th Century Fox Television; all other characters were created by me.

Anthony, Book Three: Lifelong Commitments
Author: Clare Skinner

Sunday, November 2, 1997, 12:43a.m.

Allison climbed the stairs wearily, glad she had three days off ahead of her. Walt, Teresa and all those annoying doctors had been right; going to work hadn't been a great idea. Despite her exhaustion, habit prevailed and she checked on each of the children, making minor adjustments to covers, before dragging herself to her own room.

She couldn't help but smile at what awaited her. One bedside lamp was on and Walt was asleep, propped up by pillows, glasses still in place with the dreaded DOS book open on his lap. Allison smiled her way to the bathroom, pausing to grab her pajamas as she listened to him snoring faintly.

Her mind drifted back to Monday. She remembered the warm feeling that had flooded over her when she'd opened her eyes and seen him smiling over her with such love and relief. They'd talked for an hour, pouring out their feelings and concerns. Walt had repeatedly apologized for her being there and she'd finally shut him up by kissing him.

He'd gone over all the risks of being involved with him, the always present danger, and apologized again for not making her aware of the risk before, especially for the children's sake. And she'd held his hand, telling him she knew all of that and accepted it. That she and the kids would be miserable without him and Anthony. And that she also now knew she loved him deeply.

His expression had been incredulous as she'd told him of her 'meeting' -- if she could call it that -- with Clare.

Monday, October 27, 1997

Allison opened her eyes and found she was in a beautiful meadow -- wildflowers blooming with a full spectrum of colors, breeze gently blowing, birds softly chirping. It was so peaceful and relaxing. She turned with awe toward the forest she knew was behind her, when a voice completely unnerved her.

"This is gorgeous... you couldn't have chosen a lovelier spot."

Allison's eyes dilated with fear as she recognized Clare Skinner. "Oh, God," she murmured. "I'm dead?"

Clare reached her side and squeezed her hand. She smiled reassuringly. "No, Allison. This isn't heaven... though the setting isn't far off. I know this will sound strange, but we're in your mind. And trust me, after what the medical personnel did to your throat and stomach, it's much more pleasant being unconscious."

Allison felt unreasonably calm as a warmth slowly enveloped her. "What's going on? What happened to me and why?"

She wished there was some place to sit, other than the ground, and blinked as an overstuffed sofa appeared out of nowhere. After they'd arranged themselves on it, Allison watched as Clare's expression became wistful and apologetic as she explained the nature of the poisoning, why it had been allowed to happen and her own involvement with the Consortium. Clare then transmitted a mental image of both Cancerman and the Well-Manicured Man.

"The second man I described -- I'll refer to him as 'Humphrey' -- is a dubious ally. He has helped Walt in the past, but his ability or willingness to do so in the future cannot be counted on... I'm afraid there's nothing I can do about protecting Walt from them." Clare took Allison's hand again. "I *can and will* protect you and the children from Cancerman and the Consortium, though."

"Why? How?" Allison asked, mystified.

"But there are limits to my abilities and I have to be careful not to overstep them," Clare went on, neatly sidestepping the details. "I can't actually change an outcome, but I can dissipate some of the worst effects."

"You... you were with me when Basil--"

"Yes. You wouldn't have died, but had I not been allowed to intervene, you all would have been injured more seriously."

They talked some more about the Consortium before Allison ventured, "You must love Walt very deeply to have gone to such lengths to protect him and Anthony. I would imagine you were wracked with fear during your pregnancy."

Clare sighed. "In many ways, it was torture -- not knowing how or if the experimental drug would affect him. I had no one to talk to about my concerns... that was the hardest part. My new co-workers tended to think I was melancholy because my husband had 'died' and I'd be raising Anthony on my own. That's why I started writing Walt letters, detailing what was happening, what I was feeling, how much I missed and loved him -- it helped somehow."

"What did you do with the letters?"

"Walt has them now. I'd hoped to give them to Anthony one day... There's something you need to know about Anthony, something that makes him extra special, and something that you have to be aware of as he grows up." Clare related his telepathic abilities.

Allison stared beyond Clare a few moments. "That makes so much sense," she finally responded. "I mean I've wondered how he seemed to know what I was thinking, but I put it down to his being insightful. And/or I wondered if I was unconsciously telegraphing signals to him... which I guess I was, in a manner of speaking," she finished with a grin.

"Anthony *is* insightful -- sometimes it's hard to tell the difference, but there are ways to block his telepathy." Clare went on to explain the mental barriers.

They spent several more minutes discussing typical mother and child-rearing topics before Allison steered the subject to Walt. "Did you know immediately that you were in love with him?"

Clare got up and gestured for her to follow her, and then the two wandered into the forest. "No. My feelings for him snuck up on me; and when I did realize I was falling for him, I tried my darnedest to stomp those feelings out. My life was complicated enough. But you know how he gets under your skin and into your heart."

Allison smiled as they paused by an enormous coconut tree. "How did you think it could possibly work? I mean after what you've told me--"

"It wouldn't have," Clare interrupted. "But it was more than just a foolish and dangerous pipe dream. I've had a lot of time to think about it, and I doubt our relationship could have been resolved any better than the way it was. I'm convinced I was pregnant before we were actually married -- even if only by a few days. My 'colleagues' would have either forced me to abort, or used Anthony against Walt... and I would have abhorred either scenario."

They were both silent as they walked on, Allison noting absently that giant banana and orange trees plus showy evergreens incongruously interspersed the forest. "Did you notice much of a change in Walt, from 1989 to 1996?" Not that you had much time with him, Allison silently added.

Clare reached up and plucked a ripe orange before answering. "Yes, and no. When I first knew Walt, he was already closing himself off from people... but that's often a side effect of the work; you tend to become cynical. He feels overwhelmed with his responsibilities sometimes and doesn't know how to channel his feelings. When he can't deal with something, he abuses his body -- works it too strongly."

"At least he doesn't turn to drugs and alcohol," Allison responded.

"Wellll," Clare hedged, "He's been known to hit the bottle, too." She finished peeling the fruit and offered it to Allison.

Allison took it. "His parents have told me he was a fun-loving, out-going child," Clare commented -- of course, Allison thought, Clare would be able to speak directly to them -- if any of this is real. "Full of vim and vigor, that was the phrase they used... but generally well-behaved. Vietnam changed him, as it did to so many. He became more serious and stoic... His mother told me she could hear 'the old Walt' in his voice after we got involved... then felt helpless as he started sinking further into himself when I..." Clare stopped.

They started walking again and quickly came to the opposite side of the forest. A tropical beach appeared before them, azure water lazily cresting and ebbing. "Mmm," Clare murmured, "Walt would love this. He wanted to take a trip to the Greek isles as a delayed honeymoon."

They reclined on the warm sand and Allison noted the sinuous robes they had been wearing were now bathing suits, a fact that didn't seem to surprise her either. "You've helped Walt come back to life, Allison; you've broken down the walls. He's a very passionate man and you'll need to be patient with him, to help him explore his emotions -- he told Anthony that it was all right to cry, but he won't allow himself that luxury."

"The type that's afraid to show a 'weak front,' afraid it makes him appear unmanly. My father and one brother are like that. Ouch!" Allison rubbed her arm as a tiny trickle of blood appeared.

Clare stood up and gazed benevolently at her. "Another blood sample. It's time for me to go. There won't be any permanent effects from the drug, Allison, and it will leave your system at the proper rate." Allison got to her feet and Clare took her hand again. "I am so happy that Walt found you, and I can't think of anyone I'd rather have help raise my son."

"I love them both," Allison said simply.

"I know. Tell Walt that; he needs to hear the words, needs to know you won't leave him. The two of you will have many wonderful moments together."

Clare began walking to the water's edge and Allison wasn't sure whether the glint of the sun against the waves made Clare appear to frown. Clare turned briefly and Allison was sure her expression now held a waggish smile. "A word of warning... invest in some industrial strength earplugs. If history repeats, Walt will snore the roof off the house before your wedding."

Allison smiled at the advice and Clare's certainty of the future. She then watched as Clare's form entered the water, her mane of auburn hair flowing behind her, the bathing suit replaced by the robe. Clare's body seemed to disappear as the robe's structure dissipated into the foam breaking on the shoreline.

Allison sat back down as a feeling of drowsiness overwhelmed her, as did a loving warmth.

Allison finished brushing through her hair as the memory faded. She remembered the look on the doctor's face when the results from the next tox scan had come back and shown the Minipress level in her system to have been cut in half. She'd been released Thursday morning -- held an extra day for good measure -- with the only lasting effect seeming to be tiredness. Which was why she'd been told not to go back to work until the following Wednesday.

Poor Agent Pendrell -- he'd later scratched his head when the drug had begun metabolizing properly. With his help, they'd also discovered that it was indeed one of the dyes that had exacerbated the effect. Thankfully, it was an obscure one, rarely used in any foods or cosmetics, or anything else she'd routinely come in contact with.

She turned out the light in the bathroom and gazed at Walt. They'd begun sharing a bed as soon as she'd returned home and were both satisfied with the sleep-only arrangement thus far. Neither felt the urgent need to rush the next step in their new relationship.

Dealing with the children's fears had been the worst part and they'd done it together in the hospital room. They'd agonized over how much of the truth to tell them, not wanting the kids to feel unsafe in their own home.

They'd jointly decided to tell them that she'd suffered an allergic reaction to her medication. They'd handled the protective custody angle by saying that they didn't immediately know what had caused her to become sick and wanted everyone out of the house just in case it was because of carbon monoxide or radon gas, adding that they had been unable to stay at Teresa's because of a heat problem there.

Hedging about why Scully and Mulder were present was harder and they'd decided that since Gramma spent a lot of time in their house, she might have gotten sick, too, and therefore other adults needed to be with them. Scully's presence with her medical background at least made a certain degree of sense with that explanation. Anthony knew the real reason for everything and kept it stoically from the other kids.

They had been understandably uneasy, but once they'd been allowed to see Allison, they'd felt better -- once she was home they'd felt better still. And they were adjusting to the new sleeping arrangement.

In this circumstance, Allison and Walt had decided that complete honesty was the best policy, so they made no effort to hide the fact that they were sharing a bed. Which was another reason they were in no hurry to have sex or anything close. Neither wanted to answer a host of embarrassing questions about what they were doing if one of the girls walked in suffering from a nightmare -- which had happened twice when Walt was alone and once when they'd been together.

Allison sighed as she picked up the DOS book and carefully removed Walt's glasses. He woke up just as she was about to turn off the bedside lamp. "Hey," he said, yawning as darkness enveloped the room. After a few seconds the moonlight gave the room a glow. "I guess that book really works. What time is it?"

She climbed over him, yawning herself, "Almost one."

He let her get settled before he wrapped his big, warm frame around her, resting his arm on her abdomen and his head against her shoulder. "Mmmm. How was work?" he sighed in contentment.

Allison couldn't stop the soft chuckle from leaving her lips. "About the same as it was the five times you called to check up on me. Every time the door opened, I half expected to see you and the kids."

He tangled his legs with hers and held her tighter. "I thought about it. But Teresa assured me you'd think it was a case of overkill."

Allison sighed as the warmth from his body spread to hers and she linked her fingers with his. "At the risk of hearing 'I told you so,' I *am* zonked. If it hadn't been busy the last two hours, I think I would have fallen asleep right on my counter."

"Who comes in that late for a prescription? I thought anybody coming from an emergency room got enough meds to take care of them overnight?"

She turned around and put a finger to his lips. "I'd rather not talk shop at one in the morning."

He rolled onto his back and took her with him, arranging her across his chest. They laid quietly together, Walt with his chin against her head, gently stroking her back, Allison with her head burrowed into the fabric of his T-shirt and rubbing his chest through it.

"Wait a minute." He moved her to his side long enough to strip off his shirt before pulling her back. "Much better," he murmured.

Allison breathed in his masculine scent and snuggled her face into his soft chest hair. "If we could find a way to harness the heat you generate, we could take a big slice off the gas bill."

Walt laughed as he kissed her head. "Must have something to do with having you Hogle females draped across me."

Allison rolled her eyes. "Well, *this* particular Hogle female is quite contented to be siphoning off the warmth. You're better than an electric blanket."

"You're comparing me to an electrical appliance?"

She looked back at him as she yawned and thought of one particular 'appliance,' but didn't think he'd be amused. "Would you rather I compared you to a piece of furniture?"

"Why not? Tabitha and Buster seem to think that's what I am. Of course, they seem to 'think' that about everybody." Allison softly laughed as she snuggled back onto his chest and felt sleep beginning to overtake her. "But speaking of furniture, what are we going to do with everything we've got between us? I mean I'm assuming we're going to officially start living together. There's certainly no sense trying to pretend that Anthony and I don't spend all our time here now. And paying two mortgages is ridiculous."

Allison yawned again and murmured, "Uh huh."

"I suppose we could have a garage sale, but I seem to recall that big items don't sell very well -- least not in Austin. Didn't you say your brother's oldest was going to get an apartment when he graduates next month? Maybe we can pawn some stuff off on him. And I'm sure we can fill out Basil's apartment, too. I guess whatever we can't send to your relatives, we can give to the Salvation Army. Get a deduction for taxes that way."

Allison's response consisted of: "Mmm."

He leaned down to kiss her head again. "And just because I'm talking about living together doesn't mean I think we should do it without making a formal announcement." Walt laughed as he continued to stroke her back and run his fingers through her hair, slightly thinner at the moment from the poisoning. "Ned McIntire has already informed me that living together doesn't look too good with my position, especially with five children involved."

Walt wet his lips, serious now, carefully trying to pick the right words. She seemed to be relaxed, open to possibilities. "I know things have changed between us rather suddenly. And I'm not talking about doing anything next week, although I wouldn't mind that either." You sound like an idiot, he chided himself. Stop straying from the point and get on with it. "What I'm trying to say or, uh, ask is, uh, maybe we should think about um, getting married." Oh jeez, Walt, he said to himself, that was *really* smooth. He took a deep breath and tried again. "That didn't come out too well. What I meant to say was I love you and I'd very much like to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?"

Walt waited with a sigh of relief that his second attempt had sounded better... and he waited.

And waited.

He was beginning to think he'd made an error in judgment or at least timing when he realized Allison had fallen asleep. "Great," he mumbled aloud. "I'm going to have to do this all over again." At least she hadn't heard him all tongue-tied. He kissed her head again and felt her slow, even, rhythmic breathing. It doesn't get much better than this, he thought as he closed his eyes and drifted back to sleep.

8:57a.m.

Walt was trying to carry an overloaded tray up the stairs while the kids swirled around him, carrying what didn't fit on it. Trevor and Ian were bringing up the rear, a cloth napkin tucked into Ian's overalls as he determinedly crawled/climbed up the stairs. They crept into Allison's bedroom and stood there, crestfallen, when they realized that she wasn't asleep in bed. They heard the toilet flush a few seconds later and hurriedly moved back through the door -- the children nearly knocking Walt over.

Allison wandered back out a very short while later, yawning as she shoved her feet into a pair of slippers. Before anybody could stop him, Ian ran in.

"Hey there, sweetheart," Allison uttered as she scooped him into a big hug. "Whatcha got there?" She pulled the napkin out and raised her eyes before looking toward the door. Though she couldn't see anything, she knew something was up, so she raised her voice. "Boy, am I still tired. I think I'll just go back to bed for a while." She tucked the napkin back into Ian's chest pocket and whispered, "Go find Uncle Walt." She climbed back under the covers as Ian happily went back out in search of 'Dada.'

A few moments later, Amelia led the second charge into the room, being the only one who actually believed that Allison had fallen back asleep. "Mommy! Mommy! We made you breakfast!"

Allison opened her eyes, smiling, and didn't have to fake the yawn. "Breakfast in bed? Why, I... I don't know what to say. I'm too surprised." Amelia beamed while Charlee, Anthony and Trevor rolled their eyes. As for Walt, he smiled, his eyes crinkling warmly, and set the laden tray down. "Goodness, it looks like you brought lunch and dinner, too. What, no Sunday paper?"

The kids sprang into action, putting whatever they were carrying down on the nightstands and chasing each other down the stairs to get it, except for Ian, who wandered over to the tray and snagged a piece of bacon. Walt's eyes glowed as Ian wandered back to him and leaned against his leg, laying his head on it, for all the world like a cat or a dog. Walt had the fleeting thought that perhaps Ian had spent too much time around the pets. "The kids all had their own opinion about what you'd like and it seemed easier to make it all instead of arguing."

Allison looked it all over and didn't have the heart to tell him she really wasn't hungry. "It was very sweet of you to do this, Walt."

Ian took off suddenly into the walk-in closet, leaving them alone for a few moments. They leaned into each other and spent the next 10 seconds in a long, deeply satisfying kiss before the thunder of the children announced their returning presence.

About a half-hour later, all the food was gone, eaten mostly by the marauding kids. Allison had gotten the coffee, a slice of dry toast and a few strips of bacon down while the others had polished off the remaining bacon, scrambled eggs, sausage, French toast, cereal, apple juice, milk, hash browns and muffin.

"All right troops, go get dressed. I'll take care of the dishes." Walt flashed another of his brilliant smiles, now less rare, as the kids saluted before leaving.

He stripped off his T-shirt -- it was still sweaty from his morning jog and partially stuck to him. Allison sighed appreciatively at his rippled muscles and crawled out of the bed to embrace him. She wrapped her arms around him as his hands slid under her shirt and up her back. She took a deep breath. "You, Mr. Skinner, need a shower." She raised one hand and lightly touched his chin, "and a shave."

Walt's eyes twinkled back. He moved his hands back to her face and tenderly held it as he moved closer and captured her mouth with his. This time Allison was sure the tingling sensation was due solely to Walt and murmured in protest when the kiss was over. They rested their foreheads against one another a few seconds.

"Allison, how much do you remember about last night? I mean what we were discussing."

She wrinkled her brow. "Something about furniture, you and Anthony moving in. From a financial point of view, it makes sense, but I doubt it's a wise professional move." She looked at the smile on his face. "Or did you go over that? I don't remember."

He swallowed and softly kissed her hand, his eyes gone serious again. Walt was just about to speak when a meowing Tabitha came streaking into the room, followed closely by a barking Buster. The two were in fine form, taking turns chasing each other over and under the bed, seeming to be in three places simultaneously as Charlee and Amelia came bursting into the room after them. Both were halfway through the changing process from pajamas to daywear and scrambled after their pets, finally catching them as the empty dishes flipped all over the bed. Allison rolled her eyes at the mess. "All right, you two, take Tabitha and Buster and vamoose."

Walt sighed as Allison moved to right the dishes and strip the bed. "Do you want help?" She shook her head. "In that case, I'm, uh, gonna take that shower."

"Leave me some hot water," she absently mumbled as he walked into the bathroom, visions of her joining him dancing through his head.

Walt finished his shower and stepped out onto the floor, grabbing a towel. He dried himself off and wrapped it around his waist. He was just starting to draw some hot water to shave in the sink when Allison wandered into the bathroom, dressed only in the nightshirt and panties. "So?"

He turned to her questioningly. "Yes?"

She rolled her eyes as she began unbuttoning the shirt. "Did you leave me any hot water?"

Walt turned back around and shut off the tap. "Enough for a quick shower."

He watched her in the mirror as she turned around and dropped the nightshirt on the other side of the halfwall. Walt purposely lowered his eyes as she bent to remove her panties, even though the halfwall around the whirlpool tub blocked part of his view.

"It's safe to look again, I'm in the shower," she called to him a few seconds later. He smiled at the words, realizing it was ridiculous to be awkward about seeing her body at this point, but he still was. Wanted to see and admire it, and felt uncomfortable about it at the same time.

Between the exhaust fan and the fact that the shower was at the opposite end of the bathroom, he managed to shave with a clear mirror. He grabbed a fresh, fluffy, clover-colored towel off the rack and placed it on the toilet seat, within easy reach for Allison.

Walt glanced at the frosted double-shower door and sighed as he glimpsed Allison through it. "I left a towel for you," he hollered over the water and proceeded back to the bedroom.

Walt walked over to the dresser that was basically his now and was on the verge of removing a pair of briefs when he heard a pint-sized yeow and saw Tabitha came whizzing by again, flying through the air as she landed on the bed. Buster's furious barking closely followed as he jumped onto the bed as well and Walt attempted to move out of their way, only succeeding in getting tangled up between the two as they chased each other yet again. He ended up falling to the floor in an effort to *not* step on them as Charlee and Amelia came dashing in once more, pushing the door wide open.

One of them stepped on a corner of the towel just as Walt tried to roll out of the way, and he gasped as the towel stayed put while he didn't. His embarrassment changed to pain as the kitten and puppy came charging at him and the girls jumped after them, landing on him. Each grabbed for what they fleetingly thought was a tail and briefly held on for dear life before seeing the animals streak back out the door and running after them.

Walt rolled onto his stomach trying to catch his breath, both hands gently holding himself while his eyes rolled to the back of his head and he groaned. He tried to inch forward and only made it a few paces before he stopped. Walt knew his body was a bright red and that his buttocks were completely exposed, but at the moment, he didn't care.

Allison wandered out a few seconds later, toweling her hair and wearing a jade-colored, chenille robe. "Did I hear another tornado in here?" She gazed at Walt, startled, as he writhed on the floor. "What happened to you?"

She knelt down beside him and made little effort to drag her eyes from his reddened and firm buttocks.

"Charlee and Amelia," he finally gasped, "mistook a very sensitive portion of my anatomy for Buster's or Tabitha's tail."

Allison's eyes went from his reddened cheeks, both gluteal and otherwise, and tried to stop herself from laughing, but quickly lost. "It's not funny!" Walt exclaimed when he finally could.

With a waggish gleam in her eyes, Allison hauled off and slapped his exposed bottom.

"Ouch!!" He fixed a perturbed glare on her and attempted to cover his buttocks with one hand.

"You hardly expected me to pass that up, did you?"

"I expected a seemingly mature, 38-year-old to show some restraint."

"Yeah, well, you're in the wrong house for that." Her eyes had that gleam again. "I suppose you expect me to kiss the injured areas and make 'em better?"

He returned her look. "Would you?"

Allison rolled her eyes once more. " *Not* even if you *begged.* And for the record, 'mature' 46-year-olds shouldn't need to have their boo-boos kissed." Walt snaked his hand to the tie on her robe and yanked, opening it. "Just what do you think you're doing?"

He suddenly rolled over toward her and caught her as she tumbled against him, pulling her onto his chest as the robe gaped open. Allison attempted to get up, but only succeeded in straddling him. Walt grasped the edges of the robe and pulled her closer till the garment covered them both. They quietly moaned at the sensation of direct skin on skin. "Proving I'm not as mature as I should be," Walt murmured.

"I see that," Allison replied and felt a shock of arousal course through her body.

They gazed into the mounting desire in the other's eyes as their bodies responded. They were on the verge of sharing what was sure to be a highly charged kiss when both realized the bedroom door was not only unlocked, but also wide open.

The flame in their eyes fizzled almost instantly. Allison climbed off him, carefully gathering the robe around her as she picked up his towel. She threw it to him on her way to take care of the door.

Allison leaned against it and took a deep breath. "Walt, uh... I'm, uh... not really ready."

He quickly stood and wrapped the towel around himself. "I know. You don't need to explain the difference between a physical readiness and an emotional one to me."

Walt smiled at the continued frown on her face. "And as long as we're talking on the record, despite appearances, I'm not really ready either." Allison smiled in relief. "But I do want to talk to you about something important... Maybe we should get dressed first, though."

A few minutes later, they were. Both were far less composed at that point, with Walt worrying about tripping over his tongue again and Allison wondering what the hell he wanted to talk about. She had a vague idea and hoped she was wrong, hoped she wouldn't have to turn him down.

They sat on the bed, holding hands. Walt took a deep breath and Allison's spirits drooped.

He took her chin and turned her face toward him. "Allison, I love you. I know that what's happened between us has been very fast, but I don't want to spend the rest of my life without you and the kids. Will..." She moved his hand away and lowered her chin. "What's wrong, honey?"

Allison slowly raised her face again, the odd tear in the corner of her eyes. The tinge of concern, hurt and softness in his voice made it all worse.

"Walt... please don't finish what you were going to ask. I don't want to hurt you, and I'm... I'm afraid I will." She felt her heart tearing as the pain in his eyes deepened. "I *do* love you, in all the right ways... but, but it's just too soon."

"Why? Because of your divorce, the change in our feelings, your 'illness,' or something else?" Allison stood and walked over to the exercise bike. Walt looked down at his lap, at his hands, and thought how unjust it was for it to be so difficult to get the women he loved to agree to marry him. "Allison?"

"You said we'd move slowly. Can't you see how proposing now is going too fast?" She placed her hands around her upper arms and closed her eyes.

Walt walked over to her and wrapped his arms around her, keeping his voice low and soft. "All I want is for us to be together -- all of us. We can have as long an engagement as you want. I won't push you to set a date. I just want to make our relationship official."

"Why? So it will look better?" Walt stiffened, but didn't relinquish his hold.

"I'm sorry." Allison cast her eyes around the room, trying to organize her thoughts. "It's just that I feel like I'm not in control anymore. I could handle the alcohol making our feelings surface, but the poisoning pushed us forward. And... and now you want to jump a few more feet... because of them."

She turned around and gazed into his eyes. "You're afraid those 'people' will come directly after you soon, aren't you?"

Walt averted his eyes. "You said Clare told you we were all free from harm."

"Clare said *we* were, not you. That because of your position, you're constantly walking a tightrope... and that the Consortium was hardly above using love as a weapon. I *won't* let them break us up, Walt, but neither do I want the fear of what they *might* do to push us together. We can't let them influence every aspect of our lives -- that would be letting them win."

He released her and walked away. "I'm not letting them--"

"If these forces hadn't tampered with my pills, would you have confiscated and replaced the kids' Halloween candy?"

"That's different, Allison," he muttered. "There are plenty of psychos out there. With this stupid three days of trick or treating, it's impossible to know all the people giving out candy. I was... I was just trying to protect them from the 'regular' nutcases."

The ringing phone interrupted them. Allison went to answer it. "Hello?... Audrey, it's not really a good time to talk." Allison covered the mouthpiece as Walt walked to the door. "Where are you going?"

He turned with his hand on the knob. "Downstairs. Talk to your sister... maybe this will go better if we have some time to think." And he left.

Allison rubbed her forehead. .".. What? Yes, I'm still here... Oh, God, Audrey, I don't even know where to start."

Walt cleaned up the mess he and the kids had made preparing the big Sunday breakfast. He could hear them bickering in the family room about what tape to watch.

Maybe Allison was right, maybe it was too soon, maybe his motives *were* being influenced by the Consortium. About the only thing he *did* know was that he finally had everything he wanted -- a wonderful, loving mate and a house full of fantastic children. So what if they weren't engaged yet? They would be in time. He didn't care how their living together looked. His only concern was how the kids would feel about it -- and if they weren't troubled...

Walt smiled again, thinking back to a conversation he'd had with his late mother a few years earlier.

Easter 1991 Home of Niko and Maggie Skinner, Austin, Texas

Walt stood, staring out the sun room's sliding-glass door into the backyard of his parents' neighbor. He watched with a heavy heart as the father pushed his twin daughters on the swing set and the little boy, barely walking, tumbled onto the grass a third time.

Oh, Clare, he thought, that little boy could have been ours.

He wiped a tear away, thinking how miserable he'd been over the last two years without her. They would have had a child by now, maybe Clare would even be pregnant again. In his mind's eye, he saw the three of them happy and contented.

"Sergei?" He turned at the sound of his mother's gentle voice and attempted to twist his face into a smile. She reached her wrinkled hand up to stroke her towering son's cheek. "You can't hide your feelings from me, Sergei. You couldn't as a child and you can't now."

He took her hand and gently kissed the palm. "I still miss her so much, Mom. I miss the life we were going to have." He glanced out the door. "The kids. I just feel sometimes like I'll never be that happy again."

His mother smiled sadly. "Yes, you will. You're a wonderful, sensitive, kind, loving man, Sergei. You will find someone else who makes you feel the way Clare did. Between what you told me about her and those few minutes I spoke to her on the phone, I know she'd want you to."

She paused and squeezed his hand. "Everything happens for a reason; we don't always understand why at the time, but I believe it does. If Niko and I had been able to have our own children, we would have missed having you in our lives. And you have brought us great happiness and pride, Sergei."

Walt enveloped her tiny 75-year-old frame gently. She always knew what to say to make him feel better. Maggie pulled back and gazed into his eyes.

"Life is not perfect or always fair. Sometimes we have to experience sorrow to appreciate joy. You have completed the first half, now you need to move forward for the second. You can't just wait for your soulmate to find you, you have to search for her. But you will find her, Sergei; and the two of you will love each other, make each other laugh and have lots of children."

She tenderly stroked his cheek. "Once you find her, don't lose sight of what's important -- your love. It will see you through all of life's ups and downs if you believe in its power."

Walt leaned against the kitchen island, remembering his mother's words, and knew she was right. He had Allison's love and she had his. They already had laughter and lots of children. And what was best for both of them was letting their love proceed on its own, at its own pace. He'd just reached the decision to postpone officially proposing when Allison walked into the kitchen.

She looked around. "You didn't have to clean everything up by yourself, I would have helped you."

Walt looked at the humor absent from her face and held a hand out to her. "Is everything all right with your sister?"

Allison took his hand and moved next to him. "Fine, in fact, she's, uh, pregnant. They're happy but a little shell-shocked."

Walt smiled with understanding. "Taking over his father's business and a new baby at the same time should keep Ryan busy. How old is Audrey again?"

"41. And Ryan's father has apparently decided not to retire yet. He's decided that 73 isn't so old after all."

Walt laughed softly. "My father was still running the hardware store at 79, said that's what kept him young. I can imagine how strange it must seem to Audrey and Ryan with Jason just starting college."

"Yeah, they were going to turn his room into an office, and now it'll be a nursery." Allison couldn't help notice that Walt was slowly stroking her hand with his thumb and felt some of the tension in her body ease. She tried to keep it light. "Audrey said if we were, uh, thinking of getting married, we needed to do it by the end of March or wait till the fall so she's either not the size of a house or has time to get rid of some weight."

They both were silent a few moments. Walt moved in front of her and raised her chin -- they both spoke at once. "I've changed my mind... What?"

"You go first, Allison."

She was puzzled. "It doesn't really matter if you're taking back your proposal."

"Don't... do that. And to be perfectly accurate, I never actually *did* propose; you cut me off before I could." Last night's proposal when you were asleep notwithstanding, he thought.

She walked away, shaking her head. "Fine, whatever. Forget I said anything. Let's just forget either one of us said anything."

He walked after her, grabbed the hem of the sweater and pulled her back to him. "Why do you always say that? You know I have no intention of forgetting it."

She allowed him to turn her around, but wouldn't raise her face to look at him. "Because it's an infantile response to not knowing what else to say." She glanced over his shoulder, still refusing to gaze into his eyes. "Finding someone to love and spend the rest of your life with is supposed to be the hard part. Why is the rest of this so difficult?"

Walt gently grasped her chin and turned it toward him. "Because life doesn't follow preset rules. It's..." he smiled, recalling his mother's words, "It's not perfect and it's not always fair."

Allison smiled almost shyly. "Did Clare tell you that?"

He smoothed her hair before trailing his fingers down her cheek. "No. It's something my mother told me a few years before she died. She also said that love is the most important component... and we have that. We can stay exactly as we are, Allison, or Anthony and I can move in or we can get engaged and have a long or a short engagement. Hell, we can get married next week, next year, next century -- I don't care. All I want is for us to be together. I'm more than willing to let our love move at its own pace."

He paused as he took in the emotions struggling for dominance across her face -- empathy, love, apprehension, confusion, joy, affection. "What do *you* want, honey?"

Allison felt her concerns melt away as the tenderness and sincerity of his words echoed through her head. She reached up to stroke his cheek as her emotion-filled eyes sorted themselves out, even though her voice was still tentative.

"I want you and Anthony to move in... so we can be a proper family. I want to go to sleep each night and wake up each morning with your arms wrapped around me. I want us to be happy, all of us. And..." She swallowed quickly, almost afraid she'd lose her nerve to finish the thought. "I want you to ask me... again."

His eyes crinkled with a warm glow as he understood what she wanted and he felt his heart beat faster. "Are you sure?" He suddenly discovered how important it was to him that her desire be completely honest and pure. She nodded, her eyes serious and straightforward. Walt cleared his throat and delicately took her hand. When he spoke, his mellifluous baritone was full of emotion. "Will you marry me?"

Allison nodded in silence, at first afraid to trust her voice and then not caring if it broke. "Yes, mi novio, I will marry you."

Walt was so unabashedly happy that whatever she'd called him went temporarily over his head. He scooped her up and spent several arduous moments kissing every part of her face, starting at her forehead and working his way down to her chin. When he moved back up to her mouth, he tenderly pressured her lips with his tongue before letting his enthusiasm loose.

His spirits soared higher as Allison folded her arms around his neck and responded in kind. "Mmmmm, mi amante."

His eyes positively glowed with happiness. "If you're speaking Spanish, I don't think 'my lover' is quite appropriate just yet."

Allison's eyes gleamed back at him. "But 'my sweetheart' or 'bridegroom' would meet with your approval?"

"Si, mi novia." His eyes flashed again with a devilish light. "Do you, by chance, dislike diamonds?"

Allison narrowed her eyes just a little. "Well, they're not my most favorite, but I wouldn't go so far as to say I dislike them. Why?"

Walt chuckled. "Because Clare and I never used English terms of endearment either and she was almost vehemently opposed to diamonds."

Allison smiled brightly and wrapped her arms around his waist. "I just can't hack 'darling' or 'dear.' And I can see why Clare would be opposed to diamonds. With all the cubic zirconia out there..." -- she glanced at her ringless finger -- "Basil gave me a horrendously huge, and quite frankly, gaudy, blue diamond that belonged to his great-grandmother. It was worth $11,000 when we got married." Walt's eyes bulged. "I never wore it for fear of having a finger lopped off. It's just gathering dust in the safety deposit box."

His expression relaxed and he began nibbling her ear and neck, his warm breath tickling her as he spoke again. "So what kind of engagement ring *do* you want?"

"Engagement ring? You're getting married? Already? Cool!!" Anthony ran in from the hall and wrapped his arms around both of them.

Trevor, Charlee, Amelia and Ian were about three steps behind. They hadn't really heard Allison and Walt talking, but they *had* heard Anthony. Their expressions ranged from pleased to befuddled to tranquil -- and then they were all talking at once.

"When?... Are we going to be in the wedding?... Will Dad be there?... Are you going to have another baby?... Does this mean Anthony will be our brother?... Will Gramma and Grandpa Wright be there?... Do we have to call Uncle Walt 'Daddy?'... Are we going to move?"

Amid all the happy confusion, the phone began ringing. Amelia, who was closest to it, picked it up. "Hello?... Hi, Daddy! Can you come to Mommy and Uncle Walt's wedding?..."

Walt managed to grab the phone and cover the mouthpiece before Amelia got any further. "I think you should let Mommy tell your father the news, sweetheart." Walt turned his attention briefly to the phone. "Basil, hang on a minute, Allison's right here." He handed the phone to Allison, mouthing 'good luck' before he herded the kids out.

Allison took a deep breath, the blissful wind abandoning her sail. "B? I'm really sorry about that. It's hardly the way I wanted you to find out."

She could hear him swallow. "Then it's true?"

"Yes, it's true. He proposed not even five minutes ago, but we're not getting married for a while... I can't really say how long, we haven't gotten that far, but I'm thinking not till next fall. It's all happened rather suddenly. B? Are you all right?"

Basil released a deep breath. She could hear it. "Actually, yes. I mean, if anybody had asked me ahead of time how I'd feel, I would probably have said hurt, maybe even betrayed -- and I know I don't have that right. But honestly, Ally... I'm okay with it." He laughed as Allison sighed in relief. "I guess that means the therapy and the Prozac are really working, though I'm glad I've got another session tomorrow... I suppose this means Walt and Anthony will be moving in?"

"Uh, yes, but again, we haven't worked that out yet." She resisted the urge to ask him if he was all right a second time. She knew most of the telltale signs of his sober agitation, but the majority of them were visual cues; still, he sounded calm and sincere. Just the same, she was going to call his AA sponsor.

And speaking of alcohol... "B, there's something else that with all the confusion of my being hospitalized, I never had the chance to tell you... I went out and got plastered a week ago Saturday, after I got the divorce papers."

She waited for a response. "I don't exactly blame you -- I thought seriously about doing the same thing myself... That didn't have anything to do with your getting sick, did it?"

"No. They were two separate occurrences. But, uh, Walt found me, and uh--"

"Ally, you don't owe me an explanation. I understand, really I do. And while I appreciate your being honest, there are definitely some things I'd rather not know." He laughed again. "Strangely enough, this news plays very well for why I called. Is the offer of furniture still on the table, uh, no pun intended?"

Allison laughed herself and relaxed some more. "Absolutely. What do you need?"

"Um, I was just hoping to get my old sofabed and maybe my table and chairs."

She heard the hesitation and made an assumption in the form of a question. "What exactly do you have in the apartment now?"

.".. A futon, some kitchen stuff, a computer and a television."

Her eyes opened wide. "That's it? You would buy the computer. Why didn't you say anything in Brian's office?"

"I, uh... oh, I don't know. Stupid pride, I guess. But a few more nights on that futon and I'm going to need a chiropractor."

Allison shook her head as Walt quietly came back in. "Hold on a second, B." She covered the mouthpiece and looked at Walt. "Basil is living in a basically empty apartment. Do you care whose furniture he gets?"

Walt was taken aback, not really expecting Allison to seem this chipper. "Uh, no. Yours, his, mine, Clare's. It doesn't much matter to me."

"Okay." She turned back to the phone. "B, is there anything in particular you *really* would like and do you mind if some of the stuff is Walt's or Clare's?"

"Well... I'd kind of like my desk, but I don't really care about the other stuff."

Allison was attempting to mentally inventory everything between the two households. "Do you have room in your kitchen for a table and do you have a separate dining room?"

"Yeah, the kitchen's pretty big and there's a dining area -- I wouldn't call it a separate room, though."

"All right, how's this. Your old king-sized bed, so your back will be happy, some nightstands and a dresser; the tables and chairs that are in the kitchen and family room right now; your desk; Clare's living-room set, that's got a sofabed, a loveseat, some tables and three chairs, uh..."

Walt was mouthing 'Clare's stereo/TV/microwave.'"Um, Clare had some nice stereo equipment and a TV -- a 27-inch, I think that's what Walt's trying to tell me -- and we'll have at least doubles on things like microwaves, vacuum cleaners, dishes." She paused for breath and heard dead silence on the line. "B? Are you still there?"

"Uh, yeah... I'm just a bit overwhelmed, that's all. Look, Ally, are you sure about all that? And before you get any other ideas, I'm absolutely paying for transport. Hell, if we were closer, I'd drive a truck out and get the stuff, but 1,600 miles round trip is a long haul."

"I'm sure, B. And I'll probably toss in other stuff, too." Walt wandered back to the family room and let Allison work out the rest of the details. She walked in a few minutes later and handed the phone to Trevor before inclining her head to Walt.

"How did it go with the kids?" she asked as they went back to the kitchen.

"Pretty good, actually. I think Trev's the most shook up, Amelia's all for the idea and Charlee's being very relaxed and grown up about it -- but I'm going to talk to her alone a little later. How'd it go with Basil?"

"Pretty much the same, I'm surprised and relieved to say. In fact, just before I gave the phone to Trev, he wished us all the best and said he was happy for us. By the way, he's driving out to pick up the stuff."

"That's a hell of a drive."

"I know. But Felix, his AA sponsor, came by while we were on the phone. He's got a big truck and two teenage sons who are always looking to make some extra money. And next week's long weekend is the perfect time. Sooo, I know what I'll be doing tomorrow and Tuesday," she added.

Walt pulled her back into his arms and trailed his fingers through her hair. "Try to leave time to meet me for a long lunch tomorrow."

"Planning to take Amelia, Ian and me to McDonald's?" she impishly asked.

He rolled his eyes. "I meant what I said about our engagement being as long as you want, but I would like to get a ring to make it official."

"You could play hooky and help us gather stuff."

He gazed into her eyes and after a few seconds, she was sure she saw a light bulb go off over his head. "I've got two meetings in the morning, but the afternoon is nothing I can't have Kimberly reschedule. How about I play hooky in the afternoon. You bring Amelia, Ian and a change of clothes for me about, say, 12:30p.m." He smiled deviously. "And I'll take you all to the restaurant of your choice. Just, uh, don't bring me a ripped pair of jeans and a ragged old sweatshirt."

"Afraid security won't believe it's you?"

Walt rolled his eyes. "Hardly. I can live without the jewelry store clerk thinking I'm a bum."

It was Allison's turn to roll her eyes. "Just exactly how much are you planning to spend on this ring?"

He met the challenge in her eyes. "I believe the rule is two months' gross salary."

Allison hauled off and hit him on the arm. "You spend even 10 percent of that and my finger won't be available, *Mr.* Skinner."

Walt pulled her closer. "We'll see about that."

And then he painstakingly explored her mouth several times, leaving her breathless and flushed.

Monday, November 3, 1997, 2:13p.m. Firestine Jewelers

Far from looking like a bum, Walt was attired in chocolate twill trousers, a tomato red turtleneck, a taupe corduroy button-down shirt and an earth-tone tweed jacket. The whole effect made him look like a country gentleman. He glanced at Allison as she vetoed his latest choice and sighed.

Allison was outfitted in a one-piece violet turtleneck dress with a white open-weave vest over it, black tights and short black boots. Her slate-colored raincoat had long since been shed in the store's heat and was sitting on the floor next to her.

She rubbed her head and commanded Amelia and Ian to behave another time. They'd been there almost 45 minutes and were no closer to reaching an agreement. The clerk smiled ingratiatingly and handed Allison another pair of lollipops. "Walt -- Charlee, Trev and Anthony will be leaving school soon. We can do this another day," Allison said with a heavy sigh.

Walt pulled his cellular phone out of the inside pocket of his jacket, not noticing until after he'd done so that the clerk had gotten a glimpse of the holstered gun. Walt quickly speed-dialed a number. "Teresa? We're running late. Could you... Thank you." He disconnected and smiled almost smugly at Allison. "Problem solved. Now how about that one?"

Allison raised one eyebrow at him. "Great. Now would you like to pull out your ID? You're giving Dave here a heart attack." Dave the clerk relaxed perceptibly and cleared his throat to regain a semblance of control after he got a look at the FBI identification.

Walt glanced over to Amelia and smiled as he watched her spinning around, the end of her French-braided ponytail swinging out as she did so. The auburn of her hair was set against her peach and white snowflake-patterned sweater. He looked over to Ian and smiled at the catsup stain from lunch on the bib of his royal blue fleece overalls. Walt also fleetingly wondered if they'd find a mustard stain on Ian's bright gold turtleneck.

Dave the clerk's control was tested once again as Amelia and Ian continued to run about and bumped into an upright display of watches. "Walt, take our two little ruffians out to the van before we have to buy something they break. And *stay* there. Dave and I will agree on something *without* you," Allison commanded.

Walt was going to protest, but the steely glint in her eyes made him pipe down. He hustled the kids out with nary a glance back, at the same time thinking how he liked the word 'our' in her sentence.

"All right, Dave, let's get down to brass tacks," she ordered.

Five minutes later, Allison waved Walt and the kids back in. He raised his eyes doubtfully as they returned but quickly changed his expression as he saw Dave scribbling down the order. "So what did I buy, or are you planning on keeping it a surprise?"

Allison's eyes slid toward him. She pointed to a ring in the case. "Something like that, but different."

He peered at the ring in question. It had an oval-cut blue topaz in the center and six marquis-cut diamonds in two tiers angling out from each side in a leaflike pattern. When he saw the price, he groaned. "Allison, I can afford considerably more than that."

She flashed that look again -- it was an odd mix of a patronizing glare and warm affection. "I said it's similar. The one I ordered has a two-carat, oval-cut emerald and will be surrounded by half a carat of marquis-cut white sapphires. I also upped the gold to 18 carat."

Walt tried to mentally figure out how much that ran. Allison watched the gears turning in his head and cut him off. "The prongs are going to be sterling to counterbalance the softer gold. Does that meet with your approval?"

He swallowed quickly and flashed a smile. "Yes, *dear.* I don't suppose you want to pick out wedding bands while we're here?" Allison made a noise close to a snort in response. "Fine, uh, Ian needs a change."

"And you forgot how?"

"Just humor me."

Allison took Ian by the hand and led him and Amelia back out. "You make any unauthorized changes to that ring, *dear,* and you're in big trouble."

"I wouldn't dream of it," he lied.

Allison was barely out of the door before Walt tried to have Dave up the gold to something over 18 carat.

Sunday, November 9, 1997, 12:33a.m.

Allison quietly turned off the light in the kitchen and tiptoed down the hall, trying hard not to wake Felix and his sons as they lay sprawled across the sofas. She silently climbed the stairs and checked on the kids.

Basil opened the connecting bathroom door while she was in the girls' room. She put a finger to her mouth and inclined her head toward the door -- he met her back in the hall.

Allison took his hand and led him to the playroom, softly shutting the door as she turned on the light. They both blinked at the brightness, so Basil turned on one of the smaller lamps and Allison flipped the main switch back off. Basil dropped onto the loveseat and extended his hand to her.

"The drive went all right, I take it?" she asked as she plopped down next to him.

"Long. Thank God Felix did the driving. He said both kids would spell him on the trip back, uh, later this morning... they're used to driving that thing."

Allison kicked off her loafers and curled her legs under her. "Are you sure you have to go back so soon? The kids'll barely have time to see you."

Basil smiled and stroked her hand. "Walt let them stay up late so we'd have some time. And it didn't take long to load up the van, especially with Walt's help... Thank you again for all of it. And for the food, too."

She rolled her eyes and allowed an amused smile to creep across her face. "It doesn't take much effort to throw together a meatloaf, and I know the Shrewsbury biscuits are your favorite."

"Well, you still didn't have to go to the trouble of feeding us and putting us up."

Allison became more serious. "B, stay a little while. We'll float you a loan to fly home. And as long as you aren't driving, Felix won't miss you. You can leave late tonight or early tomorrow morning. It's not like you were going to unload the van as soon as you got home."

Basil's eyes grew warm. "Stop. It's very sweet of you to offer, luv. I really do appreciate it, but I have to go with the others." He forced some humor into his voice. "My allergies are already kicking up from the animals, and Teresa mentioned you already *have* plans for tonight." He became more solemn, "Besides, this'll be three days I've seen the kids this month and the agreement only calls for one."

Allison dropped her head back against the seat cushion. "You can see the kids when--"

He gently silenced her with his fingers, "I know." Basil took her left hand and stroked her still-vacant ring finger. "I assumed Walt dragged you off immediately for the ring."

She laughed. "Just about. It's a special order -- should be ready in another week. And since we're on the topic of rings, I retrieved your great-grandmother's from the box. I want you to take it, B, for when you find someone."

He looked at the seriousness in her eyes. Basil slowly drew her hand to his lips.

"I was such a fool to lose you, Ally." She lowered her gaze. "I meant what I said on the phone; I really am happy for you. My doctor is very pleased with the progress I've made, but he still thinks I'm suppressing some feelings about you and Walt."

Allison watched him carefully. "I think part of what's allowing me to be rational about this, apart from the Prozac, is... that I've just met someone," he finished.

She perked up instantly. "That's wonderful, B."

He squeezed her hand. "Her name is Lois, we met at a bookstore last week and I took her out for coffee afterward. We had dinner a few nights later and she's down to earth. She's divorced, too, and has a little girl Amelia's age. Betsy's a sweet little wisp."

His eyes clouded over for a moment. "She, uh, suffered a skull fracture when she was three months and her mental abilities are... slow." He looked away a few seconds. "Lois' husband had a horrible temper and he... I don't want to mess this up. They've both been through so much, and I've caused enough grief for others already."

Allison turned his face back to her. "You'll do fine, B. They sound lovely... and you're welcome to bring them to Christmas if they don't have other family obligations."

Basil smiled. "You've got such a big heart, Ally. That's what drew me to you in the first place."

"I think it was more the size of what was covering my heart."

They talked for a while longer before walking back to their respective rooms, hand in hand. They exchanged a brief, innocent kiss and said good night.

Allison was glad Walt didn't make an effort to pretend he was asleep. She sat on the bed and kissed him thoughtfully before she disappeared into the bathroom.

Walt smiled as she settled next to him, draping an arm and a leg over his body. She was wearing one of his shirts, just like Clare used to. He'd been unsettled the first time she'd done it, even if the shirt had looked dramatically different on her. Which had prompted a discussion about why he'd said she and Clare were similarly built. After seeing pictures and sort of seeing *her,* Allison had reached the conclusion that they weren't -- Clare was two inches taller, 10 pounds lighter and overall, leaner/more angular. He'd flashed an ingratiating grin and claimed that he didn't really notice these things. And Allison had asked him again about that swampland.

"Were you able to talk Basil into staying a little longer?"

She sat up and looked into his eyes with a trace of astonishment. "How did you know..."

Walt leaned forward and kissed her forehead. "Because I know *you.* " Allison laid her head back on his cozy, exposed chest and sighed. "Basil and I had a long talk after the kids went to bed. I'm no expert in psychology or psychiatry, but I know plenty about reading people... and I think he's sincerely happy for us. The only bone of contention is the kids' safety because of my job... and I can hardly fault him for that."

"Mmm. I'm sure he told you about growing up with his dad in Scotland Yard. It puts him in a unique position to understand the risks and benefits of being part of a law-enforcement family. He has a better grasp of how things really operate."

Walt snaked his hand under her shirt and massaged her spine and shoulder blades, eliciting a soft, appreciative moan for his trouble. "Which is both beneficial and detrimental. I told him we had assurances from a reputable source that you and the kids would be safe from the organized forces."

"But the ones you helped convict when you were still a field agent might hold a grudge." No mights about it, he thought, and failed to answer.

"Mi novio?... Oh, hell, I'm not that fond of Spanish terms of endearment either. German is too harsh and I don't want to tread on French. Don't you know any Russian?"

He laughed. "Not really. My father hardly ever spoke it; he was always trying to distance himself from his heritage. I could always call you 'pet.'"

Allison didn't need to move to tell he was joking. "Oh, sure, then I'd feel like I was living in an Andy Capp cartoon."

Walt bent his head to kiss her hair, his voice almost a whisper, knowing she was purposely straying from her valid concern. "The most vociferous criminals I helped put away won't be getting out of prison for a long, long time." Least not alive, he silently added. "We're far more susceptible to the everyday, mundane dangers that the general populace faces. That's what I told Basil and he agreed." Walt deliberately left out the understanding that had been reached.

"And he no doubt threatened to remove part of your anatomy if anything happened to us." It was Walt's turn to look at *her* with astonishment. "I know Basil, Walt. He's not violent by nature, but he's every bit as protective of the children as I am, as you are where Anthony and now my children are concerned. Basil knows that, too."

They faded off into the retreat of dreams a short while later. Both starting out contented, slumbering peacefully together, both haunted by their unabating, overactive imaginations later.

5:48p.m.

Allison brought the soup dishes into the kitchen and dumped them in the sink before proceeding to the fridge for more orange juice. Teresa looked over at her from her seated position at Clare's former dining room set, now being used as a kitchen set, as she and the boys ate dinner. "It's almost six o'clock, Allison. Shouldn't you be getting ready for tonight?

"We're not leaving with Charlee and Amelia both running fevers and sneezing their heads off." Anthony sneezed twice. "Bless you, sweetheart. Especially since it seems to be spreading."

Teresa got up as Allison finished refilling the glasses. "I *can* handle this, Allison. Walt's gone to the trouble of making reservations at a very nice restaurant," she glanced sideways at the boys, "and so forth. The two of you need a little time to yourselves. Now move." Allison stuck her tongue out and carried the glasses out of the kitchen.

She wandered back to her room after leaving the juice with the girls and found Walt sprawled across the bed, supine, with a charcoal towel wrapped around him. "What's the word?"

Allison stretched out next to him, balanced on her elbows. "Charlee's temp was 100.5 and Amelia's was 102. But they're both eating and I gave them some more Motrin. And Amelia generally runs a higher temp, so 102 isn't really as bad as it sounds." Despite the words, the apprehension in her voice was palpable. 32 "We can stay home, Allison. The girls' health takes precedence over anything else." She ran her fingers lightly across his chest and for the first time felt self-conscious about her own soft, overly rounded body. He was so firm, tight and fit... and she was, well, not. "Hey," he bantered, turning up her chin, "Earth calling Allison."

She smiled bashfully and kissed his fingers. "Why don't I get ready? We can still have dinner and check with Teresa about the girls afterward. And we can decide about the, uh, rest of the evening then."

About a half hour later, Allison stood in front of the mirror finishing her make-up and trying to decide what to do with her hair. Most women were envious of her thick, wavy locks. And they wouldn't be, she thought for the umpteenth time, if they had to actually deal with it.

She monkeyed around for a while, getting increasingly frustrated before finally pulling the front section back and twisting it into a partial Gibson girl style.

She gazed at her reflection and thought she was too old to have hair nearly level with her breasts, too old to be going to a hotel for the expressed purpose of having sex. She sighed... and too old to be worrying about such self-conscious stupidity. She applied a little more powder and went in search of something to wear.

It took her five minutes to choose between some ridiculously lacy undergarments that didn't match or a set of smooth, no-nonsense satin ones. She ultimately chose the latter in a pale champagne and pulled on some bone-colored stockings and a matching garter.

She stared at herself in the cheval mirror and rolled her eyes. "At least the stockings and garter don't make the fat in my thighs bunch up." Allison turned sideways and groaned at the 'paunch' that four children had introduced, knowing no number of situps, crunches or other abdominal exercises would tone that area to the firmness of her teens.

With a sigh of disgust, she wandered into the closet and started her debate again. Pants, dress or suit. "Just what do they consider proper dress at this restaurant anyway?" she mumbled. "What's the outfit to go have sex in?" Passing up corduroys and a sweater as *definitely* too casual, she reached for a pair of full, dressy silk pants in a rich ruby and chose a tank top in an elegant white lace.

Realizing that the top was too revealing on its own, she dragged a cashmere cardigan out of the cedar chest and noted with satisfaction that it blended perfectly with the color of the tank. It had handmade Battenburg lace edging the collar and cuffs, and Allison made a mental note to watch the cuffs with buttered bread and cream sauces. She eased on her ecru pumps and returned to the bathroom for some lipstick.

Walt wandered back into the bedroom, hoping Allison was nearly ready. He adjusted his soft gray tie in the mirror and thought again the stir the muted, wine-colored, button-down shirt he was wearing would cause at the Bureau. Not the suit; the gray-striped single-breasted suit was a standard. He absently reached down and wiped a smudge from his black leather wingtips and his fingers grazed the black diamond dress socks he was wearing.

Allison came back out a few seconds later, reaching to her chest of drawers for some perfume, her hand lighting on the old standby of Chantilly. She sensed Walt's form more than saw him and frowned when she looked at him. "If you're wearing a full suit, I shouldn't be wearing pants."

He grinned in appreciation at the sight of her. "One, we don't have time for that, and two, more important, you look absolutely beautiful." Walt walked to her as her face turned pink. He took her hand, drawing it to his lips and softly kissing the tips of her fingers. He felt the faint shudder that passed through her body and grinned even more. "Now put on some perfume, grab whatever jewelry you're planning to wear and let's blow this joint."

Allison stared out the window as Walt drove them into downtown DC. The shop windows were decorated with turkeys, pilgrims, Indians and cornucopias. She sighed, thinking she didn't have to make any costumes for this year's pageant, and tried to relax.

"What's wrong now?" Walt asked as he reached across the seat and took her hand.

Allison squeezed his hand and absently tugged on her pearl choker with her other hand before pinching one of the matching earrings. "Teresa."

Walt laughed as he braked for a light. "You mean that suggestive leer she gave us?"

Allison dropped her right hand into the lap of her charcoal coat and chuckled back at him. "Oh, that was nothing. You should have heard the suggested itinerary for the evening."

The light changed and Walt eased into traffic, raising his eyes at the same time. "Itinerary?"

She shook her head slowly. "In case we forgot what the objective of the evening was. And I should point out that when she drew up her list, she envisioned me making you a romantic dinner at your house and us staying there. That was before the furniture all got moved out, of course."

"So what does this list say?"

"I didn't memorize it, but I believe it went something like this. Carry the groceries and overnight bag in, have sex. Get dinner started, take a break and have sex. Finish making dinner and have sex as many times as necessary till dinner was cooked. Eat dinner--"

"Let me guess -- have sex? I think I've noticed a pattern." His grin outshined hers.

She playfully placed her hand on his thigh and rubbed him through his trousers, his navy herringbone top coat parting to give her access. "I believe the evening was to end by us having sex twice before bed, then at least once before venturing out of bed in the morning. And then there was the shower and sex before/during/after breakfast."

"Were we supposed to have sex *in* the shower?" he asked in mock seriousness, stifling a moan as her fingers continued to stimulate his flesh.

She cleared her throat, trying to dampen her rising laughter. "I believe that was optional."

He shook his head as they stopped at another light. "God, it's a wonder she didn't provide evaluation sheets."

"Oh, Lord, don't give her any other ideas."

She removed her hand, to his consternation. "You do have your cell phone, right?"

Walt sighed in mild exasperation. "Yeeeeeessss, and that's the third time you've asked me... and you've got your pager." He reached inside his coat pocket, retrieved the phone and handed it to her. "Just call and stop worrying."

She held the phone a few seconds before maneuvering it into her own pocket. "Charlee and Amelia are doing fine -- both their temps dropped almost two degrees and Teresa will call us if there's a problem." He took her hand again as they reached their destination. "Relax, *dear,* we can go anytime you say. And we'll leave the luggage in the car through dinner just in case."

She brought his hand to her lips and kissed the palm just before the valet opened her door. "Thank you, *dear.* "

They checked their coats, Walt taking back the phone as Allison had no pockets -- the pager was clipped unobtrusively to her waistband under the sweater -- and were led to their table.

A waiter appeared almost immediately and offered them a wine list. Walt instantly declined, without bothering to look at Allison. He felt torn when the waiter asked about getting them something to drink, though. Allison looked at him briefly and mentally rolled her eyes. "I'll have a tonic water with lime and the gentleman will have a scotch on the rocks." The waiter bowed and disappeared. "You hardly need to abstain for my benefit, Walt," Allison told him as she looked over the menu.

"I'm aware of that. Maybe I didn't want a drink." He grinned. "But now that you've ordered it, I suppose I'll drink it."

"Good God, Walt, the prices are a bit steep. I could feed all of us for a good four days for what it's going to cost you. Not to mention the fact that I'm sure I could buy a very nice suit for what you're paying for the room upstairs."

He reached across the table and softly stroked her fingers. "When are you going to believe me when I say I can afford it? And besides, our 'first' time was in a cheap motel, I thought a grand hotel would definitely be a step in the right direction."

Their drinks arrived and the waiter departed. "Oh, before I forget again. The annual Christmas extravaganza is going to be Friday the 19th. Think you can trade a night?"

Allison made her entree and appetizer decision and looked up at his hopeful expression. "I'll try. At least you've given me enough advance warning so I can make something to wear."

Walt put his menu down. "You hardly need to make a dress, I can--"

"Afford to buy me another one," she interrupted with an amused smile before sipping her drink. "Save your money for the kids' college funds. Now that's going to be an expensive proposition."

The waiter stopped hovering and came back toward them. "And what may I get you both this evening?"

"I'll have the chicken St. Gregory." The waiter ran down her potato and salad dressing choices before asking if she'd like an appetizer. "Mmm. House dressing and the new, baby potatoes, please. And I'll start with the stuffed mushrooms, thank you." Allison handed him her menu while he went through the same thing with Walt.

"I'll have the 16-ounce prime rib, medium rare, with a baked potato, butter, no sour cream, house dressing also... and I'll start with the shrimp cocktail."

The waiter thanked them and wandered away. "Shrimp cocktail?" Allison inquired.

Walt met the smile in a restrained manner. "You were expecting me to order oysters Rockefeller?"

She sipped her drink again, the grin growing. "Welllll, you know what they say about oysters, though I don't think you need it." Allison made her point by slipping off her pump and finding the edge of his pant cuff, sliding her toes under it and stroking his ankle.

They stared into each other's eyes in a small battle of wills for nearly a minute before Walt gave in. "You really should be more careful with your meat," she said, continuing to torment him. "I mean the prime rib."

She removed her foot. "I'm sure they take great pains to get only the freshest, choicest meat here, but you should at the very least have them cook it."

Walt dropped his napkin to the floor and swiftly untied the lace to one shoe as he straightened and sipped his drink. "Yes, 'mother.' So what is chicken St. Gregory?

"Boneless breast of chicken cooked with Canadian peameal bacon and Monterey Jack cheese in a white wine sauce. And the alcohol content cooks out."

She started a moment when she felt *his* foot venture over to her ankle and up her leg. He managed to keep a solemn expression on his face, and she matched the look as she kicked off her other pump and tormented him back.

She'd just moved her foot considerably higher, having kept up a steady stream of small talk as her foot was advancing, when their appetizers arrived. Walt waited till he thanked the waiter before releasing a barely audible groan and gently pushed her foot away from his groin. "I'm beginning to think the alcohol didn't have as much to do with your actions before as I'd thought."

Allison laughed and moved her foot back, massaging his groin with her toes some more. "I'm purposely trying to drive you crazy."

She bit into one of the mushrooms and rolled her eyes. "Mmm. This is wonderful. Want some? They're stuffed with sausage and spinach, you might need the strength later." She increased the pressure of her toes a fraction and watched his controlled reaction with sly pleasure.

Walt arched an eyebrow and lowered his voice into a growl. "So might you." He punctuated his words by finding a sensitive portion of *her* anatomy with his foot and dragging a jumbo-sized shrimp through the cocktail sauce before slowly sucking the crustacean into his mouth.

Allison's eyes grew wide and she dropped a hand into her lap to tickle his foot. He pulled it back quickly and looked briefly around to see if anyone was watching. They made a silent but reluctant pact to behave through dinner.

After a decadent dessert of cherries jubilee and yet another phone call home, Walt whisked Allison off for some dancing to 'help work off dinner,' as he put it.

They danced slowly, bodies close as though they were longtime partners. Their bodies pressed tighter together of their own accord as their attempts at conversation became less frequent. Both inhaled the other's natural scent as it wafted through the cologne and perfume. When they gazed into the other's eyes, it was obvious that barring a major complication with the girls, they would be staying at the hotel overnight.

Walt moved his lips to her ear and softly nuzzled it, the warmth of his breath sending a shiver through her. "Let's get out of here before I lose what's left of my control and make love to you right in the middle of this floor." Allison looked into the smoky haze of his eyes and nipped at his chin. He saw his own desire reflected in her darkening teal eyes and felt her heart racing against him.

Quickly, they left the floor, retrieved their coats and crossed back to the lobby to officially check in. Walt congratulated himself for having the foresight to make the dinner reservation in the hotel's own restaurant. They got the key card and he kissed her hand before pressing the card into it. "You go ahead up to the room while I get our bag from the car."

And that was where they made their mistake.

Allison watched his retreating back with a shimmer of pride, especially as several women cast admiring glances his way. She noted wryly that two of the women in question looked like Barbie dolls, while a third had an unmistakable bulge in her midsection.

She walked to the elevator, not noticing that she'd turned several male heads herself. Upon entering the lift, she gazed down at her own, now relaxed, abdomen and sighed disgustedly at the expansion from dinner before pulling the sweater back down.

By the time she entered the beautifully appointed room, her awkwardness and self-consciousness had returned with a vengeance. "Now who's buying into that stupid skinny mentality," she grumbled under her breath.

Shit, she thought, I should have gone with him.

Walt climbed out of the car and retrieved the one garment bag they were sharing. His smile grew as he thought of how beautiful she'd look in the gift he'd bought and barely managed to get into the bag unseen.

He slung the bag over his shoulder and was surprised to feel a dull ache across his back. Now what could be causing that? he wondered before it came to him. Leaves. Raking leaves, actually. He'd spent two hours doing it that morning, having to rake them twice because the kids had jumped through all his piles. And shortly after that, the girls had started coming down with their colds. He shook his head as he entered the elevator, thinking that being a property owner and father definitely utilized muscles he hadn't used before.

The elevator stopped in the lobby and an amorous couple entered, not paying him any mind. They were both young, early 20s, he thought. She could have put Twiggy to shame, he thought, and immediately updated himself as he heard Allison's voice in his head -- Kate Moss, Walt, she's the new waif model. The 'boy' looked like a model himself, with perfect facial features and a head of luxurious, thick, wavy hair.

They got off at the next floor and Walt started to feel apprehensive. He ran his hand over his own smooth scalp and wondered if Allison minded not having locks to run her fingers through.

And then he absently touched his twice-broken nose and wriggled it in annoyance, knowing it had been far more attractive before Vietnam.

Vietnam.

Allison had never said anything about the more than dozen scars. The ones on his chest were largely masked by the hair. The few on his back, arms and legs were faded by now, and they weren't that noticeable. But the scar on his lower abdomen from Luis Cardinal's bullet and the ensuing surgery was quite apparent.

He'd never felt self-conscious about the scars before, but tonight, when he wanted everything to be perfect, every *tiny* imperfection in his body felt tremendously magnified.

Allison jumped at his knock and fanned herself with the room service menu a few more times as she walked to the door. She'd removed the sweater as her anxiety rose.

Walt's jaw dropped when she opened the door. The tank top was a lace knit and managed to emphasize her already voluptuous chest. He kept his eyes averted as he hung the garment bag up, afraid he'd stare.

She, of course, took his averted eyes as a sign of rejection and hurriedly put the sweater back on to cover herself. Walt removed his suit coat and hung that up, too. Allison felt another wave of self-consciousness roll over her as his shirt showed off his form to great advantage. She bit her lower lip when their eyes finally met.

For fear of displaying his own hesitation, Walt had unconsciously assumed a work look -- somewhere between a glare and a blank expression. Allison felt her spirits drop even further at his expression, the one that clearly told her she wasn't up to snuff.

"I'm going to call home one more time," she mumbled and quickly turned her back on her way to the phone.

Walt caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and instantly relaxed his facial muscles, annoyed at the expression he'd seen and hoping that Allison hadn't taken it the wrong way.

"Teresa, how are they?" Allison hoped she was being successful at keeping the strain from her voice.

"I told you the last time you called, they're fine. They fell asleep right after we hung up. Now stop worrying about the girls, quit calling and for goodness' sake, get naked and let nature take its course."

Allison disconnected and turned with trepidation. "What did Teresa say?" Walt asked, lips dry.

"Same as before but asleep, which sounds rather good about now." Oh, shit, she thought, that sounds like I'm turning him down.

"That's probably not a bad idea," he agreed, swallowing the lump in his throat. "I'm more wiped out from raking those leaves than I thought."

Allison bit her lip again and crossed her arms over her waist. She tended to look toward the floor. "Um, uh, I'd rather not sleep in this tank and I, uh, didn't pack anything to sleep in. Could I, uh, borrow your shirt?" Oh, this is ridiculous, she thought. We played footsie at dinner and practically melded into one person on the dance floor. Now we're acting like a couple of teenage virgins.

Walt wet his lips again as he nodded. He'd just started to pull the shirt out of his trousers when Allison removed the sweater.

His eyes immediately focused on the floor. He glanced up -- and he got as far as the buttons on his cuffs. What the hell is going on? It isn't supposed to be this way.

"Allison, what are we doing?" His tone conveyed the combination of gloom, rejection and puzzlement he felt.

She swallowed, her voice low and mirroring everything in his tone. "Apparently nothing."

He looked up at her again and dragged his eyes away from her chest with embarrassment, unaware that he was scowling. She crossed her arms again, higher this time. "Am I suddenly so 'inadequate' that you can't even look at me, Walt?"

He did stare straight into her eyes at that question for all of five seconds. Stared straight into her bruised, sorrowful eyes with his own sincerely startled and disconsolate ones.

"Inadequate?" his voice trembled over the word and he turned his eyes away again, unable to look at the emotion in hers. He mentally beat himself for allowing her to assume his tentativeness was due to fault with her, not himself.

"Well, then why won't you look at me? Are you that... repulsed?" The last word was spoken with a rising octave and ended with a choked sob as she turned her back on him.

"Repulsed? God, Allison, is that what you think? I can't look at you, at your chest because I'm afraid I'll stare." Like Basil, he thought. " *I'm* the one who feels inadequate. I'm a bald, unattractive, middle-aged bureaucrat." He said the words with his gaze focused on the bed, his jaw slack, his arms crossed tightly over his chest in a manner of insecurity.

Allison turned back to him, dropping her arms in complete surprise. "What?... All right, you don't have a head full of hair, and most life expectancy charts would probably concur with middle-aged, and I suppose your work would be classified as that of a bureaucrat. But unattractive? My God, Walt, you're the sexiest man I've ever known. And if I hadn't been blind for so long, I would have noticed that fact long ago."

"But if that's how you feel, why are you so nervous?"

"Because unlike you, my body isn't perfect. I've had four kids. I'm flabby and I sag all over the place. And I feel like a Dolly Parton stand-in with this top on. I should have gotten the next size up."

He shook his head again at her, at *her* insecurity. "When did you start buying into the grossly thin mentality?" Allison glanced at him, pursed her lips and turned away. "Look, I never told you this, but I always thought Clare was too damned skinny. She was strong and fairly muscled, but in the back of my mind, I always thought she looked fragile... She had somebody from work take a picture every month through her pregnancy and it wasn't until she was six months along and had gained about 15 pounds that I thought she finally looked really good, healthy."

Allison turned back to him and read the sincerity in his eyes. "Clare said she couldn't lose the last five pounds of baby weight and while it definitely softened her angular form, her bones still stuck out too much." Walt walked to Allison and took her chin gently in his hand. "Call me what you will, but I *don't* want some obsessively weight-conscious, slave to fashion automaton."

She slowly swallowed, resisted the urge to wet her dry lips and spoke in a whisper. "So what *do* you want?"

He smiled with a radiant brilliance. "I want a 'mostly' mature, independent, self-assured, real woman." Allison smiled steadily stronger at his words and he tenderly touched the various portions of her anatomy as he spoke of them. "One with a warm, ready smile; luminous, expressive eyes; a lyrical voice and laugh. Someone with a sense of humor, intelligence, integrity and with curves. Someone who's an outstanding friend and mother. And you're all of that and more... tonight notwithstanding the self-assured part." She couldn't help rolling her eyes at that. "The fact that you're beautiful on top of it all is icing on the cake."

She took his hand from her cheek and gently kissed the palm. "You *are* a silver-tongued angel. All right, now that I've had my pep talk, let's work on yours."

"Noooo, don't." He pulled his hand away and walked over to the bed.

Allison followed him and sat next to him. "You obviously need one as much as I did. Now, I get the impression that you aren't thrilled about being bald. Surely I don't need to point out the correlation between virility and baldness?"

"Don't you miss being able to run your fingers through hair?"

She sighed in exasperation. "Basil spent such an inordinate amount of time on his hair that he didn't want me monkeying with it. He was the most narcissistic person I'd ever known about his hair."

She placed her hand against his chest before moving it to his head. "And I'd much rather run my fingers through your chest hair, especially if I can have your smooth, erotic scalp to caress. Now in all honesty, you'll have to tell me what else you feel insecure about, 'cause I don't see any imperfections."

"Allison," he enunciated each syllable as he fired her a perturbed look.

"Walllt, I'm serious." She also touched each relevant portion of anatomy as she spoke. "You've got a fabulously sensual mouth; deep, sensitive eyes; a strong, masculine chin--"

"What about my nose?"

She turned his face sideways, frowning. "What about it?" He simply looked at her. "There is nothing whatsoever wrong with your nose, Walt. Okay, so you broke it twice and it no longer looks like Anthony's, big deal. *I* love your nose, but if it bothers you, have some plastic surgery."

"I'm not *that* vain, thank you."

Allison smiled. "So are we done?"

His eyes shifted awkwardly. "My body," he weakly mumbled.

Her eyes widened as she stood and put her hands on her hips. "You're not serious?" He looked up and his expression clearly said he was. "Well, then, you have to be referring to scars, because *no one* could find fault with you. You could bounce a quarter off that abdomen. Not to mention the fact that you've got a fabulously toned and goosable butt. In short, Walter Sergei Skinner, you have a beautiful body that is far better than guys half your age."

A shy smile permeated his face as he also stood. "Actually, I *was* referring to scars, but if you want to spend some more time running down my attributes, I won't stop you."

She smiled back and wrapped her arms around his waist, her voice a murmur. "Walt, the scars are a part of you. I don't care about their presence, only that you survived and are here with me now. And if they tanned better, I wouldn't know where they were to begin with."

He smiled at her comment. "They give you character and I wouldn't change a thing," she went on. "But... I will admit that I find the surgical one on your lower abdomen, uh, sexy." She finished pulling out his shirt and moved her hand under the waistband of the trousers, down into his briefs and softly stroked the scar. He closed his eyes and a soft moan left his lips.

Walt pulled her hand away and wrapped his arms around her. "So what the hell happened to us? How did we as two intelligent, normally confident people end up driving ourselves nuts with self-doubts and insecurities?"

Allison chuckled as he trailed his fingertips up and down her arms. "I think maybe it has something to do with our purpose. It's like we had a mission to accomplish tonight and I think that made us feel pressured."

He shook his head and slipped his hands under her tanktop. "God, I can't even remember the last time I came to a hotel for sex. It had to be in my teens."

He ducked his head in embarrassment and removed his hands. Allison felt obliged to tease him. "Uh, that would have been before Vietnam, right?" Walt blushed and both realized the bridge had been crossed. "Jeez, *my* last time was January -- Basil's birthday. We had a, uh, longstanding tradition of... never mind."

Walt perked up as Allison started to blush. "Anything that makes *you* blush is something I want to hear... so give."

She arched her eyes with mock indignation. "And you really expect me to start talking about my married sex life? *How* many scotches did you have? Suffice to say that whatever 'fantasies' we had, we played out on birthdays."

He pulled her back against him and gazed into her eyes. "Right now, the only fantasy I want to fulfill is making love with you slowly and painstakingly. I want to learn every inch of your body and discover what drives you insane." Walt held her face tenderly in his hands.

"That's an ambitious fantasy," she murmured, thinking that Basil hadn't been able to learn it all in nine years... not that he'd known he needed to learn... and she shut off the thoughts before they became more circular.

Walt smiled suggestively. "Some have said that 'ambitious' is my middle name."

He grazed her lips with his, lightly kissing her with feathery pressure. The kiss slowly deepened as their lips pressed more firmly together. When Walt finally teased her lips with the tip of his tongue, she instantly acquiesced, moaning very softly. He gradually advanced his tongue, holding her body tightly against him, exploring all areas of her mouth.

They moved together back to the bed and Walt carefully lowered her onto it, not breaking contact with her mouth once, reveling in the lingering taste of the cherries jubilee.

He reluctantly released her mouth as they both sighed, catching their breath. He laid on his side and softly stroked the flesh of her collarbone, his eyes luminous with his growing passion. She reached her hand up, behind his neck, and pulled him back, this time parting *his* lips with her tongue and taking great pains to 'reconnoiter' his mouth.

Walt's hands strayed to the coil of hair at the back of her head and he released the fasteners that held it together, immersing both hands into the thick, luxurious strands. He'd barely started to move when Allison reacted.

"Ouch." Walt tried to remove his hands as he looked at her with surprise. "Your watch is stuck in my hair." He tried to release the snagged strands, tugging on them harder in the process as she grimaced.

She grabbed his wrist. "Don't move." Allison carefully grasped his watch and slid it off his wrist, muttering as she did. He rolled off her, onto his back, a disbelieving look on his face as she stood up. She walked to the mirror and painstakingly removed each hair from the links of the watch, gingerly rubbing her scalp before she came back.

"Shall we try this again?" He smiled and stood up, delicately enveloping her before kissing her again, managing to probe deeper than before. She pulled her head back with effort and gazed into his eyes as her fingers reached for his tie. It took her only a few moments to remove it before she started on the shirt buttons. She unfastened the first three and paused to nuzzle the flesh at the base of his neck. Walt emitted a guttural sound from the depths of his throat in response.

Allison proceeded lower and unfastened another button. The fifth one offered resistance and she pulled her head back with a trace of irritation -- a long thread was twisted around it. She started to unwrap it, but the button wouldn't budge. "You little s.o.b.," she mumbled, tugging harder.

"Here," Walt started to raise his hands. "Let me help you with that."

"No, I've got it." Walt continued anyway and lowered his head just as Allison raised hers. He bumped his chin into her forehead and both pulled back, mumbling apologies and curses.

"Maybe we'd better stick to removing our own clothes," she joked and slowly moved back to him. "Hold very still." He did as her hands went to the earpieces of his glasses and she carefully removed them.

She set them down onto a nightstand as he worked with the button some more and, in exasperation, pulled the entire shirt off over his head. Allison waited until he was looking at her before she grasped the hem of the tank and pulled it over her head. He watched as her breasts rose and fell with the action, her hair falling over the top of her bosom. She bit her lip as she glanced at the motion of his pectorals.

Walt walked the few paces back to her and teasingly drew his index finger down into the recesses of her cleavage. He watched the shiver pervade her body as he softly stroked the tops of her breasts, smiling as her hazy eyes rolled back in her head -- there's an area that elicits a positive response, he thought. Walt bent to nibble at the seductively protruding pulchritude as his hands descended into the waistband of her pants and he gently kneaded the yielding softness of her buttocks.

"Have you ever considered front-hook bras?" he asked, his passion audible.

Allison opened her eyes. "Front hooks don't do a good job of supporting us 'full-figured gals.'"

He smiled back. His lips started a slow trek back to her mouth as his hands slid up her back to the clasp on the bra.

She stopped him before he could get it open. "Not yet." Allison brought his hands back to the front and softly kissed them before pushing him into a seated position on the bed. "Close your eyes," she cooed.

He complied and smacked his lips quietly, waiting for whatever she had in mind. When she told him to open his eyes again, he started at the floor at her feet and felt his breath catch in his throat as his eyes trailed up her body, taking in all of her femininity. Her eyes glowed with pleasure at his response.

Walt coughed twice, trying to work the necessary saliva into his mouth to tell her how seductive she looked, feeling his erection fully materialize just staring at her.

"You look so beautiful, Allison," he whispered. His hands stroked the flesh between the tops of her stockings and below her high-cut panties. "So," he swallowed hard, "erotic. Come... sit on my lap."

He moved his hands to her buttocks and guided her to his lap, groaning as the weight of her pulled the fabric of his trousers tighter against his erection.

Allison propped her forearms lightly on his shoulders, gazing into his eyes with mirth. "So is this one of your fantasies?"

He suckled the top of her breastbone in reply, eliciting her moan of appreciation -- there's area number two. "Not that I was aware of, but having you straddle my thighs, scantily dressed and wearing that garter is most *definitely* doing something for me."

She trailed one hand down his body and rubbed his erection. "I'll say." Allison held onto his neck tighter with her left hand as she leaned back and grasped her right pump, flicking it off. Walt supported her and groaned again as she squeezed his thighs with her own at the same time. She repeated the process on the left side, carefully pulled her legs up and wrapped them around his hips.

Walt fell back with a soft plop and she wriggled her legs out from under him, keeping her knees bent around his hips and rubbing her abdomen against his straining erection. "Oh, God, you're going to kill me if you keep doing that." She sat up and unfastened his belt and trousers before lowering the zipper. Whatever she was thinking of doing never happened, however, as he pulled her back on top of him and hungrily kissed her some more.

She waited for him to undo the bra, but he didn't. "Well? What are you waiting for now?" Allison was raised off his body, hands on either side of his head, and she fixed him with a fiery, questioningly look.

His eyes were full of deliberation as he stroked the tops of her breasts some more. "I bought you something to wear tonight, and now that I've seen you in this, I don't know how the other outfit could possibly be an improvement."

Allison moved her hands closer to his head and gently stroked his earlobes with her thumbs. "I don't mean to rush you, but..."

He leaned up and wetly kissed the top of her cleavage. "It's in the garment bag, wrapped in tissue paper." She nipped his chin and climbed off him, heading for the closet.

Allison located the package and retrieved her cosmetic case for good measure before wandering to the bathroom. He rolled over to watch her walk and whistled. She turned her head to look over her shoulder as she reached the doorway and winked at him.

"Oh, and leave the stockings on," he called after her. Let *me* take them off, he thought as he divested himself of trousers, shoes and socks before retrieving two condoms from the garment bag.

Allison gazed in the mirror and smiled at her reflection. She had the feeling that Walt was going to manage to do for her what so far only alcohol had achieved. She knew her body was responding to his touch and kisses stronger than it had with any other man.

She pulled a few tendrils down from her now loosely pulled-up hair and fingered his gift. It was a thigh-length chemise with a matching long-sleeved robe in a rich teal. The silk jacquard print was highlighted by black lace. She applied another layer of powder and blotted off her remaining lipstick before turning off the light. Something occurred to her and she grabbed an eyeliner from her case before slowly, quietly opening the door.

Walt was standing at the foot of the bed wearing nothing more than his briefs, and barely those. His eyes grew wide with affection as she struck a pose in the doorway, leaning her shoulders back, left knee bent with her foot pressed against the frame. Her left arm hung loosely by her side and she puffed her imaginary cigarette -- known most of the time as her eyeliner -- with the other. There was a twinkle in her eye that was at odds with her pose.

He let loose a low wolf whistle, eyes shining. "Marlene Dietrich couldn't have done it better," he huskily declared, holding a hand out to her. She smiled and tossed the eyeliner back into the bathroom before wandering to him. The new outfit was definitely more subtle than what she had been wearing -- not evoking an instantaneous roaring fire, but rather a low burning flame that picked up heat as she reached him.

"So?" she seductively purred.

The jewel tones of the garment matched her eyes for a few seconds before the latter seemed to deepen. He moistened his lips and answered with complete honesty. "I'm speechless."

She reached a sly hand to his groin. "Letting your body speak for you?"

He pulled her against him, moving one leg between hers and placing his hands in her hair. "Did you put this up just so I could take it down?" Her single arched eyebrow gave him his answer.

Walt arranged her hair down her back and briefly lost his fingers in its volume. He knelt down in front of her to remove the stockings and noted the gleam in her eyes. His fingers grazed the garter and he discovered she was no longer wearing the panties. "You little minx," he said as his other hand joined the first and caressed her soft, dark curls.

"Well, you asked me not to remove the stockings, but you didn't say anything about the panties." She gasped as his talented fingers found a new area to tantalize. "I can always put them back on if you like," she insincerely offered in a whisper.

He growled and moved one hand into her heat and pulled the edge of the chemise up with the other. She caressed his head with gentle slow strokes. Walt pressed his lips to her navel and suckled the sensitive flesh, causing a ripple of pleasure to flood her body -- there's three and four.

He reluctantly returned to his original task and gently unhooked both garters, slowly easing the stockings down her legs. His hands caressed her thighs, knees and calves as he divested her of the silky articles, finally removing the garter itself.

Walt slowly stood, his hands gravitating back to her rounded buttocks as he pulled her to him and kneaded the soft flesh. He reclaimed her mouth as her hands sought his muscled back, pressing firmly but gently as she massaged the flesh.

He backed them toward the bed, pulling away from her to lie on it. Allison flashed him a warm, passionate smile and slowly removed the robe, revealing the deep plunging back of the chemise. Then she took the hem of the chemise in her fingers, gradually raising it in a teasing manner till it was completely off. Walt bit his lip hard, his heart beating frantically as he gazed at her and inched up the bed.

Her breasts trembled now that they were unrestrained. She smiled even deeper as she crawled onto the bed over him, her breasts grazing his supercharged flesh as she maneuvered herself on him.

He groaned when she rotated her hips, grinding against his throbbing member as she flicked her tongue lightly over the contours of his ear. When she gently tugged on the lobe with her teeth, he thought *he'd* go insane. Walt pulled her face back to his and kissed her with abandon, trailing his fingers down her spine before reaching her buttocks again. He tenderly stroked the flesh for several moments, then moved his fingers down into her heat.

Allison started slightly as his fingers eased inside her, slowly and gently probing her. He softly stretched her, running his fingers in and out with the same rhythm as his tongue. Her heart pounded harder as she moved against him with more force, both of them moaning and whimpering.

"Ughhhhh, *shit.* Charley..."

And suddenly she found herself tossed to the side as Walt hurriedly stood up, shaking out his right leg, muttering obscenities as he hopped around.

Allison looked at him expectantly. "Excuse me?"

"Horse," he finished. "Charleyhorse."

"I pretty much figured that out," she replied "Well, get your butt over here so I can rub it." He dutifully gimped over and Allison slid down to the floor to massage his spasming calf muscle, noting that his whole body had tensed up.

After enjoying several long moments of her nimble fingers, Walt sighed in relief. Then he jumped again as she began wetly kissing the backs of his thighs. She pushed her fingers up under the band of his briefs and rubbed the taut flesh, kissing the base of his spine. He shivered at the sensation. "What are you doing?"

"I believe I indicated that I was going to rub your butt, so I am." She rose up behind him, advancing her fingers to his groin and circling his turgid erection slowly.

Walt groaned yet again and stopped the motion of her fingers, turning himself around and staring into her dark eyes. " *You* are driving me crazy."

Allison stifled a yawn and laid back on the bed, her voice dripping with need and desire. "Get over here. And leave the briefs on the floor." He started to remove them, but instead, smiled and sat on the bed first, blocking her view. "You little bugger..."

He turned and climbed over her, smiling more broadly as he proceeded to dig his aching member into various portions of her upper thighs and abdomen. "Actually, I think 'big bugger' is more appropriate." Walt propped part of his weight on his arms and lowered his head to one of her bountiful breasts, dragging his tongue all along the surface, flicking it in and out against her hardened nipple.

She moaned. "Just put the condom on and stop torturing me."

He looked at her eyes, his own coal black. "In a minute -- after I've had the chance to drive you insane first."

He bent back to his task, taking some of her breast in before softly suckling. Allison arched against the sensation of his rough tongue as he sucked.

She started as Walt's teeth grazed her sensitive skin. He immediately stopped and looked up, desire and concern struggling for dominance. "Did I hurt you?"

She smiled with undisguised ardor. "No, I just wasn't expecting it." And I didn't really expect to find it so alluring, she added to herself. "In fact," she hesitated, "if you feel so inclined to do it again, you can do it, um, uh, a little harder."

Well, that's, what number am I up to, he thought -- oh yeah, five. He lowered his head once more, increasing the pressure slightly and taking great satisfaction as she writhed under him. He stayed at her breasts a few moments more, switching sides and caressing the satiny flesh, rolling and tweaking her erect nipples.

At length, his mouth traveled upward, suckling the hollow of her breastbone before proceeding to her left collarbone. Walt busied himself planting warm, wet kisses, listening to her moans of appreciation, thinking, that's six.

Allison was not so quietly going nuts from the treatment. Her collarbone had always been inexplicably sensitive, but Basil had shied away from the area, not being able to master the fine line between pleasing her and activating her wonky nerve.

Now she pulled Walt's face back to hers, not wanting him to cross the same line. She leaned up and captured his mouth, holding him tightly against her, feeling his erection throb as she re-explored his delectable mouth.

Walt ended up putting more of his weight on her, his shoulder leaning against her collarbone. He was just about to reach for a condom when she sputtered and grimaced in pain. "Owww, get off."

He quickly rolled off her and sat up, confusion and worry on his face. "What did I do? Are you all right?"

She winced and rubbed her collarbone, mindful of his disturbed expression. "You hit a nerve when your weight was on my shoulder."

He looked away from her, not wanting her to see his face as he started to softly chuckle. She saw it, however. "Why are you laughing?" she demanded.

Walt turned back and took her free hand. "I'm sorry. It's just that I'm all for extended foreplay..."

"But..."

"But I don't think it's supposed to take this long or be this difficult." He trailed his fingers up her arm and gently started to massage the aforementioned area. "Let me do that." His magical fingers went to work and he noted that just like when he'd had the charleyhorse, her body had stiffened up. "Why don't you lie down so I can give you a proper massage."

She complied and sighed. "I've been known to fall asleep with a really good one."

He leaned close to her ear and growled, "You do and I'll be *very* disappointed."

Walt spent a good five minutes running his fingers up and down her spine and arms after relieving the collarbone nerve. He also discovered that the base of her neck was quite sensitive, too. Okay, that's seven, he mentally said, thinking that the last two had to fall in the category of more obscure erogenous zones.

Walt listened to her soft, even breathing and assumed she was kidding. But when numerous open-mouthed kisses along her spine and at zone seven failed to generate a response, he groaned a disbelieving groan -- she *had* fallen asleep.

He sat back on his heels and ran a hand over his face before looking down at his eager erection. It was standing upright, begging for attention. His hand strayed back to Allison, to her luscious, softly fleshed buttocks. He stopped his hand before it ventured into her heat. He shook his head, telling himself to get a grip.

Walt rolled onto his stomach and instantly realized *that* wouldn't work. It was like trying to sleep on a tripod. He got up with a disgusted sigh, carefully eased the covers from under her and placed them over her slumbering form. And then he took a completely unfulfilling, frigid shower.

Monday, November 10, 1997, 6:43a.m.

Allison awoke mostly on her stomach, her body partly draped across Walt's. Her head rested upon his left pectoral, amidst some brownish soft curly hair. Her left arm was stretched languidly across his chest, disappearing down his side while *his* left arm was wrapped lightly around her back, his fingers grazing her buttocks. She smiled as her head softly rose and fell with his deep, rhythmic breathing. Allison also noted that she was wearing absolutely nothing. Neither was he.

Walt's hand fell away from her and she gingerly moved off him and out of the bed. She picked up the chemise on her way to the bathroom and grimaced, recalling their numerous, unsuccessful attempts at foreplay the previous night. She felt like an idiot for falling asleep on him, but smiled anyway as she recalled that she'd awoken on *his* side, and having to sleep on the wrong side of the bed didn't seem to have been too difficult for him after all.

When she came back out, wearing the chemise, he was awake -- sitting up, propped against the wall, fingers interlaced behind his head. His expression was disappointed at seeing her clothed -- Allison didn't miss it. "You seem to have slept all right on the wrong side of the bed," she quipped as she crawled back onto it.

He arched his eyebrows in partial response. "You were sleeping so peacefully, I hated to risk waking you up by moving you."

"Mmm. So are we giving this another try, or packing it in?" Allison straddled his hips.

He gave her a considering glance. "Well, since you deemed it necessary to put the nightie back on, I made the assumption that you weren't interested in trying any more."

Allison stretched forward and nuzzled the base of his throat. "Didn't anyone ever tell you the pitfalls of 'assuming'?"

Walt groaned almost silently; Allison 'felt' his reply more than heard it. "Well then, why *are* you wearing it?"

"For the same reason I pulled my hair up last night." She carefully pushed herself upright, using his chest as a springboard, and slowly gathered the hem of the chemise in her hands before removing it.

She shook her head, her hair trailing down her back and her breasts swaying with the movement. He sighed in appreciation as her shapely, naked body was revealed to him. Allison eyed him thoughtfully, watching his eyes deepen with the rise of his passion. "So, are you going to let me under the covers or not?"

He fixed a look on her and shook his head. "Before this goes any further, I'm heading for the bathroom." She rolled off him and he took the opportunity to lean over her, gently cupping one ample breast before teasing the nipple to hardness with his flicking tongue. "Keep the bed warm till I come back," he huskily instructed as he climbed over her and wandered to the bathroom.

Allison sighed herself in appreciation, as she watched his taut buns until they disappeared behind the closed door. An intriguing thought came to her, and by the time he returned, she was trying hard to look innocent and a tad bored, the covers pulled up and around her.

"What have you done?" he warily asked as he slid under the covers.

"Nothing whatsoever," she lied with a telltale gleam in her eye.

Walt climbed on top of her and discovered what she'd done. His smile matched hers as he felt the silkiness of the stockings and the faintly scratchy texture of the lace garter. "I see you're in a playful mood this morning."

He didn't give her time to respond as he lowered his mouth to hers and she instantly met the pressure of his tongue. Walt spent a long time reacquainting himself before ending the kiss and looking into her eyes. "Are you expecting me to remove them?"

Allison answered with her own seductive tone. "That's completely up to you."

He slid one hand down her thigh, stroking both the bare flesh and that covered by the stocking. "I think," he replied with a pronounced glint in his eyes, "I'll leave them alone. More erotic this way." Walt shot her a knowing glance, which after a moment's thought she realized was in reference to her drunken comment about his boots.

They spent the next few minutes kissing, nuzzling, suckling, stroking and moaning as their desire steadily rose. It took very little effort to ascertain that each was ready, willing and able to -- finally! -- take the last step.

With a degree of reluctance, Walt left her breast and tore into a condom, quickly removing it and putting it on with a bit of difficulty. His hopes for the next several minutes diminished rapidly as the too-tight condom deflated more than just his hopes. "Shit!"

"What's wrong?" Allison asked as she moved closer and leaned over his shoulder.

"I don't believe this! It's gone. The damned condom strangled it."

Allison made a quick attempt to restrain her laughter, and was barely successful. She picked up the empty package as Walt attempted to remedy the situation. "Very thin, huh?"

He continued to try to re-awaken his limp appendage, his mood less than sterling. "Yeah, I thought I'd try something new. They're supposed to be as close as you can get to wearing nothing." Walt pulled off the offending bit of prophylactic and tossed it with disgust into the wastebasket. "And I didn't bring any other kind."

Allison tossed the wrapper as Walt kept his head lowered, a dejected expression on his face. She leaned closer still and started to nuzzle his shoulder, slowly working her way to his neck. When she reached his ear, and he was softly moaning, she whispered to him, "Care to play Russian roulette?"

He turned to her, his expression incredulous. "I doubt that's a good idea."

Allison dropped one hand into his lap and took over the restimulation process -- he moaned a bit louder. "Why not? We're already engaged, we're both clean."

"But you said your cycle is likely to be massively screwed up now that you're off the pill." He stopped the motion of her hand. "And this isn't the way I envisioned us discussing additions to the family."

She turned his head back and stared into his troubled eyes. "We don't need to have a long, drawn-out discussion. I'm willing to have another baby, Walt. In fact, I'd very much like to create a child with you, provided that's what you want as well."

Most of the misgivings left his face, replaced by sheer happiness. "I do, Allison. I've thought about it on and off ever since you were hospitalized. I feel... I feel like I've learned so much about kids since February, almost like I've regained some of the lost time with Anthony."

He lowered his chin, unsure how to phrase the rest of his thoughts. Allison gently tilted it up so that she could look into his tentative eyes. "But as much as you consider Trev, Charlee, Amelia and Ian your own children, a tiny part of you still wants to experience the creation of your own flesh and blood. I understand that, Walt, and I hardly think less of you for it. You love all five of 'our' children equally, as I do, and we both know there's enough love between us for another child." She smiled almost conspiratorially. " 'Yours, Mine and Ours.' Remember?"

Walt looked at her for a moment before recalling an old movie by that title. He smiled back. "You don't remind me of Lucille Ball, Allison."

"You don't remind me of Henry Fonda either, but the title seemed appropriate."

The smile faded from his face as another thought came to him. "But if you became pregnant this morning, we'd have to get married almost right away. I--"

Allison placed a finger to his lips. "We could know as soon as the 20th with a blood test and have a one-two-three wedding Thanksgiving weekend, if need be. Besides, statistically, it's improbable that I would become pregnant after one time. And I'm not trying to make a comparison here, but it always took at least one month of trying before Basil and I conceived -- Ian took three."

"Statisticians didn't take into account the virility of a bald man," he replied with a pronounced sarcastic tone and smile.

Allison rolled her eyes, "Oh, brother. I don't know if there's enough room for you, me and your ego."

He gently pushed her onto her back before twisting his body to lay on top of her. "It's a little after seven and check-out time isn't till 11. I think it's highly 'probable' that we can manage more than one time in four hours."

Even as he spoke, his erection was coming back to life... more so as he began nuzzling her throat and then proceeded to her breasts. As she gasped in appreciation, Allison teased him. "Now you're just getting cocky."

When he looked up, with an almost wicked grin, she pulled his face to her and kissed him with enough passion to completely stiffen his appendage. It was easy to tell that he was ready, so she ended the kiss. "All right, now that you're back up to snuff, get inside me before something weird happens again."

Walt started to say something, thought better of it and carefully eased himself into her welcoming heat. They both moaned at the intimate contact that had taken such a seemingly long time to attain and had barely started to move together when a loud, shrill noise sliced through the atmosphere.

They looked at each other a split second, not comprehending the sound, when it occurred to them what it was -- a fire alarm. With deep-felt groans, they separated and in 60 seconds had managed to pull on clothing, coats and shoes. Dashing to the door, they joined a throng of other guests heading for the stairs.

A short time later

Allison and Walt stood outside the hotel among crowds of displaced guests and the morbidly curious as various fire companies were stationed on every side. Walt gazed around with irritation, thinking his night of romance was completely blown out of the water. Allison squeezed his hand in understanding.

"You know," he whispered with a gleam in his eye, "the back seat of my car is looking better and better."

Allison raised her eyebrows at this suggestion coming from 'Mr. Sensible/Control/Propriety.'"Didn't you move the car to the underground lot of the hotel?"

Walt mumbled under his breath. As it turned out, several minutes later, one of the fire chiefs announced that the alarm had been a false one, there was no fire and all the guests could safely return to their rooms.

They bypassed the mobs waiting for the elevators and walked the seven flights back to their room. Both dropped their coats on the floor upon entering and stared at each other, resigned. "I suppose," Walt began, not particularly enthusiastic, "we should just gather up the rest of our things and go home."

"Well, I don't know about you, I wasn't exactly paying attention, but I didn't bother putting on any undergarments to save time."

Walt looked with interest at the sweater she was wearing over worn blue jeans. He moved closer to her and verified her statement, placing a hand under the sweater and encountering a loose breast while his other hand glided into the jeans and found her smoothly fleshed buttocks. "On the other hand," he ventured with hope and desire beginning to bud, "third time's a charm."

She smiled wickedly at him and discovered that he in fact *had* managed to get his briefs on under his own faded jeans, even if not socks. But like her, he had on no shirt under his sweater.

"Right now, I want a shower." She turned away from him and smoothly removed her sweater, pausing to look coquettishly over her shoulder and allowing a portion of one breast to be visible. "Coming?" she asked as she stepped out of her loafers.

Walt kicked his sneakers off as he pulled the sweater over his head. "Oh, yeah, definitely the charm."

He followed her into the bath and they quickly removed the rest of their clothing before moving into the bath/shower. Once the water was running at a satisfactory temperature, Allison set some ground rules. "Nothing sexual happens until we've taken care of the practical aspects first, agreed?"

"You can be annoyingly sensible, but agreed."

Allison stood mostly under the spray while Walt was on the fringe of it, facing her. "Let's see, it probably takes, what, all of 10 seconds to wash *your* hair?"

Walt responded with a grunt and began tickling her. "Watch your comments, Mrs. Skinner-to-be, or I might be tempted to renege on my agreement."

That said, however, they both behaved reasonably well through the practicalities, even if some of the movements of the washcloth could have been deemed suspicious.

They stood under the still-warm water and gazed hopefully into the others' eyes. "Are we finished, then?" Walt asked.

"Let's see, hair washed and conditioned, bodies cleaned, yes, I'd say we're finished."

Walt pulled her close, smoothed back her wet hair and released a fair amount of his pent-up passion. Allison responded in kind and hoped against hope that nothing would interrupt them this time, seriously thinking that neither of their egos could take much more delay.

They continued groping like teenagers a few moments longer before exiting the shower, turning off the water and partially drying off. Walt employed his trick with the towel and Allison groaned at the treatment, stifling the urge to ask where he'd learned it. She turned around and likewise dried him off, to his surprise. With the towel wrapped around him, she pulled him closer, starting yet another long, deep kiss.

Allison backed out of the bathroom and he moved with her to the bed. Just as her knees felt the mattress behind her, Walt halted the kiss, but kept her in his arms. He turned them around so that he had his back to the bed. He sat down on the edge with a devious glint in his eyes, tossing the towel to the floor. "Why don't you sit down," he suggested.

She eyed him warily, with a single arched eyebrow, noting his erection was again fully upright. "And just what, exactly, did you want me to sit on?"

He grinned back. "Use your imagination."

"I'm surprised you don't want to be on top."

"Plenty of time for that." He arched his own eyebrow as she continued to remain upright. "Do you need me to draw you a diagram?"

"Do you have a talent for drawing?" she asked as she straddled his thighs.

"As a matter of fact..."

Allison arched an eyebrow again, sure he was joking as she placed one hand around his neck and used the other to guide his turgid appendage to her. With infinite slowness, she lowered herself onto him, staring directly into his eyes all the while.

When he was fully in and she'd circled her hips a few times, he groaned loudly and halted her, moving her now-free hand to his neck. "Wrap your legs around me and lean back," he commanded.

"Why, what are you going to do?" It wasn't that she didn't trust him, she did, completely. It was simply that she couldn't stop herself from being argumentative when commanded to do anything.

He recognized the tone and replied in like kind. "Well, you'll never know if you don't do it. But I guarantee you'll enjoy it."

She turned her head slightly, hearing the challenge in his voice. No sooner was she positioned the way he wanted her than he started nuzzling that sensitive spot on her collarbone.

All sorts of sensations flooded her body, all of them pleasant. He spent no more than a minute there before moving to the hollow of her breastbone and sucking ardently. Allison noted that he was also managing to lightly thrust at the same time, his hands firmly but gently gripping her hips.

When his mouth moved down to one breast and he gave it the full range of treatment, she groaned louder. As his teeth sank into the ample flesh, her vaginal muscles contracted in unison with her writhing movements. Oh, she thought, feeling her body starting a definite climb, I think he's really going to pull this off.

Walt moved back to her mouth. With the same thought in both their minds, Allison unlinked her ankles around his waist and he laid back. The two jointly, painstakingly inched their way up the mattress till Walt was solidly on it, down to his knees. With a tightening of his arms around her, he rolled over, now on top.

He gazed at her shining eyes, burning with need, and was unable to say whether they were the deepest shade of blue or green he'd ever seen. And a scant split second later, he didn't care as she started thrusting against him. Her fingers had scarcely begun to massage his strong shoulders when he began thrusting back, quickly accelerating the pace she'd set.

Their mouths continued to press solidly together, oddly gentle despite the speed the rest of their bodies were moving. Both felt themselves climbing closer and closer to release and neither heard the phone ringing until it had trilled a good four times. They tried to ignore it, but the noise was insistent. With a feeling of dread, they slowed to a stop and listened more carefully, realizing that it was the cell phone.

Walt reluctantly got up to retrieve the phone from his coat pocket. "Strewth," Allison said economically and decided to keep the rest of her stronger thoughts to herself. "You know, I thought I heard the phone when we were in the shower."

"Skinner."

"Thank goodness I've finally gotten through to you, Walt. I've been trying off and on for the last 20 minutes."

Walt clearly heard the agitation in Teresa's voice and instantly assumed the girls had gotten worse. "What's wrong? Are Amelia and Charlee all right?"

Allison immediately sat up, concerned. "It's not just the girls," Teresa continued, "they're all sick now. All running fevers, complaining of upset stomachs and running to the bathroom. Amelia, Charlee and Ian have already thrown up and they have headaches, too. I'm about at my wit's end."

"Hang in there, Teresa, we're on our way. Do the best you can." Walt disconnected and uttered one word -- flu -- as Allison was already at the other phone.

"Front desk? This is room 823, we need our bill prepared immediately."

Walt broke most of the speed limits driving back, and the scene that greeted them was heart-wrenching. Teresa, looking sick herself, was trying to calm a crying Ian while a pale Trevor was attempting to open another roll of paper towel. The stench of vomit hung in the air like fresh paint.

Teresa looked at them like they were angels from heaven just as Ian heaved again and proceeded to cry even louder. Trevor turned a delicate shade of green and bolted for the bathroom, covering his mouth as he went. Allison ripped into the paper towels, quickly wet one and wiped Ian's mouth as Walt gingerly took him from Teresa, holding him slightly away. Allison stripped off his sleeper and Walt quickly carried him upstairs. Before any words could be exchanged, Teresa turned her own shade of green and Allison spun her around to the sink with a few seconds to spare.

Allison soothingly rubbed Teresa's back until she'd finished and fetched her a glass of water to rinse her mouth. "Oh, God, I feel awful."

"Can you make it upstairs?" Teresa nodded vaguely, and started in that direction, moving slowly. Allison quickly removed a bucket from under the sink and handed it to her and she cradled it gratefully, proceeding with her unhurried pace. Allison smiled with compassion before moving out to the hallway, knocking and entering the bathroom.

Trevor sat huddled next to the toilet, faintly trembling, more pale and looking absolutely miserable. His voice was thin, apologetic and whiny. "I didn't get here fast enough. I'm sorry, Mum."

Allison carefully sidestepped the mess and smiled sweetly, kissing his forehead. "It's all right, honey."

He was burning up, she noted, and wondered why he had been downstairs. She ran her hand lightly through his hair before filling a paper cup with water, instructing him to rinse only and gently wiping his mouth.

"I stink," he accurately observed with wrinkled nose.

"Well, you've smelled better," she agreed, still smiling. "I bet you'll feel a little better with some clean PJs." No sooner had she gotten them off then Trevor hiccuped with a wide-eyed look of 'not again' and clutched the sides of the commode, Allison stroking his back.

Again, his reaction time was off and he started to cry at the slimy goo sliding down his chest. Allison quickly wiped it up. "Honey, why don't I put you in the shower? You can sit on the little corner seat and let the water spray on you, okay?"

He nodded and attempted to stop his tears, gingerly standing up and letting her remove his briefs. He shakily walked the two paces to the stall as Allison turned the water on, fixing the temperature to a moderate warmth and adjusting the direction of the spray. Trevor stepped carefully into the stall and hitched his little bottom onto the seat with a dejected expression -- he hated being sick.

"Want me to stay?" she asked prior to closing the door.

Trevor looked at her with reddened eyes and bravely answered. "No, I'll be all right. But you'll come back in a few minutes, right?"

Allison smiled at the attempt to be self-sufficient. "Absotively." He sketched a shaky grin and she closed the shower door.

She ran down the basement stairs, pausing only long enough to retrieve Ian's soiled sleeper from the kitchen and carefully carry it with Trevor's pajamas and slippers. Allison assembled everything she could think of in a laundry basket -- clean PJs and underwear, four more small buckets, two big bottles of ginger ale, Gatorade, Pedialyte, saltines, more paper towels and an extra bottle of all-purpose cleaner.

Carrying everything back up and mentally thankful for the well-stocked, enormous additional pantry shelving in the laundry room, she rapidly cleaned the kitchen floor and gathered more than a dozen plastic cups with straws, plus two bottles for Ian.

She left the basket at the base of the second-floor stairs -- having added two garbage bags -- and wondered briefly how Walt was getting on before she hurried back to the bathroom carrying the clean garments, the fresh roll of paper towels and another bottle of cleaner.

Trevor looked marginally better and attempted to smile when she returned. She turned off the water, helped him out and gently dried him off. He insisted on dressing himself, giving her time to clean that floor.

He walked with her slowly down the hall but hesitated at the stairs. "Want me to carry you, sweetie?" He tentatively nodded and she knew he felt embarrassed to be 'acting like a baby' at the ripe old age of eight and a half. Nonetheless, he lowered his head snugly on her shoulder, wet ringlets dampening her sweater, and wrapped his arms and legs tightly around her.

Once they reached the top, however, he changed his mind. "I can walk to my room, Mum." Allison didn't think it likely that he had a sudden surge of energy, more along the lines of not wanting Anthony to see him being carried in. She acquiesced to his young masculine ego, though, and ran back down the steps for the basket.

Allison appeared in the boys' room a few seconds after Trevor and left the basket on the floor to tuck him back in. She solemnly handed him his bucket after kissing his forehead again.

"Anthony, honey, how are you doing?" she called to the top bunk.

Not getting much of a response other than a muffled whimper, she grabbed another bucket and started climbing the ladder. His anxious, tear-stained face appeared when she'd reached the second rung. He was huddled on the opposite side, against the wall, trying desperately to avoid the sticky, smelly pool of the previous night's dinner on his sheets.

Allison frowned sympathetically... more so when he also hiccuped. She thrust the bucket toward him as he lurched. Anthony let out a modified wail afterward that tore through her heart. He stared at her as she climbed two more rungs, tears freely flowing and uttered one heartfelt and, in itself, heartwarming word, "Mommy."

She blinked back a few tears herself, set the bucket to one side and carefully helped him to the edge, half-assisting and half-carrying him down the ladder. He collapsed in a small heap on the floor as she went back up the ladder, retrieved his bucket and efficiently stripped off the offending sheets and mattress pad, leaving the blanket, pillow and bedspread behind. In short order, Allison had Anthony stripped down and in the shower, promising to return as she had with Trevor.

Being in many respects, an old pro at dealing with a house full of sick children, she used the scant five minutes to 'womanhandle' Anthony's mattress onto the floor, change the bedding and empty his bucket. Allison also buzzed through Ian's room to do the same, checked on Teresa -- who mysteriously had a freshly clothed Ian back and was now wearing a flannel nightgown -- and was midway through changing the girls' bedding when she realized it was time to get Anthony.

She could only imagine what had happened to Walt, since there were two puddles on the floor/area rugs, the girls' stained pajamas were heaped in a pile and she could hear the shower in their bathroom. She tossed all clothes and bedding into one bag, reserving the other for spent paper towels, and left them in the hall.

Allison retrieved a slightly calmer Anthony from the shower. Once he was dry, he had no qualms about clinging to her as she took him back to his room. When she had him re-clothed and under the cool, clean sheets, she kissed his forehead too and departed again for the girls' room. Her first order of business was to take fresh PJs and underpants into her bathroom and she tried hard to stifle her laughter as she saw Walt in the shower with both Charlee and Amelia hanging on him.

While he'd had no problem taking Ian into the shower with him, she noted that modesty and/or decorum seemed to have prompted him to retain his briefs with the girls. Or maybe he was afraid they'd mistake his decidedly male anatomy for a tail again, she thought with a small grin. In any event, she carefully removed his reeking clothing from the floor and laid several towels and the clothes on the closed toilet seat just before the water was turned off.

Walt opened the shower door and swallowed gratefully at the articles laid out. The last time he'd encountered so much retching -- Allison's poisoning and Ian's February bug aside -- had been when dysentery had swept through his unit in Vietnam. It hadn't been pretty then and it certainly was no better now with two frightened, whimpering and crying little girls fiercely holding on to him. He dried them gently but quickly, wrapping the third towel around his waist and longing to be free of the soaked briefs.

By the time he had them clothed and carried them back to their room, all visible signs of their sickness had been removed. They both whined for their pets, and true to some unknown but instinctive knowledge that pets seem to have, both Tabitha and Buster jumped onto the beds and settled quietly by their sides. Promising to return ASAP, he hurried back to the bedroom for dry clothes, noting the bags and just missing Allison in the hall as she carried in her basket of supplies.

By the time he returned a few moments later, now wearing some navy blue, FBI-emblazoned sweats, Allison had arranged the numerous cups on the nightstand and was pouring out the ginger ale. "What do you want me to do?" he asked.

Allison barely turned her head as she poured. "Teresa requested a cup of weak tea, and you can take the garbage bag of clothes/linens down to the laundry room." He nodded, smiled warmly at the girls and disappeared into the hall. It wasn't difficult to determine which bag held the garments and he picked it up, pausing to check on Teresa and the boys before he hurried down the two flights of stairs.

It occurred to him that if all he did was leave the bag in the laundry room, Allison would, in all likelihood, give him grief later. Carefully removing the contents, he abandoned his idea of rinsing out the worst of the slop and tossed the clothing and four sets of twin-sized sheets into the over-sized washer, leaving the rugs for the next load.

He felt his own stomach lurch and closed his eyes, knowing that if *he* got sick, Allison would never be able to take care of everybody. His glance fell on the shelving, specifically onto some half-hidden powdered miniature doughnuts -- it was a wonder the kids hadn't sniffed them out -- and he realized it was a hunger pain, nothing more.

Grabbing the box, he returned to the first floor and nuked a mug of tea. His own body was begging him for a cup of coffee, but he had neither the time nor the inclination to make a pot. And after giving it the briefest of thoughts, he realized that the smell would probably be offensive to the kids anyway. He settled, instead, for two cans of caffeinated soda, two large glasses of whatever juice was in the fridge and the doughnuts.

Retrieving a tray to carry everything, he reappeared in the guest room and Teresa looked with disfavor at the doughnuts before realizing they weren't meant for her. She took her tea with thanks and burrowed under the covers.

Walt found Allison and Ian in the master bedroom, Ian in the center of the bed, actively sucking on his bottle, and Allison in the middle of changing into a pair of sweats. Despite the sickness all around him, he still felt his body react to the sight of her in just her undergarments.

She quickly climbed into the clothes and gazed with some humor at his assembled breakfast. "Well, that looks tremendously healthy. But right now, I'll shove just about anything down my throat."

Walt tried hard to keep his tongue, knowing full well that now wasn't the time to make even a passing joke of the unintentional sexual innuendo she'd just made. He swallowed quickly and opened the doughnuts, stuffing one in his mouth -- a little stale, but still edible -- and chewing hurriedly before speaking. "I threw the sheets and clothes in the washer," he mumbled, reaching for the juice.

She arched an eyebrow after sipping from her own glass. "Guess that means either your mother or Clare or I taught you well. Care to tell me how you ended up taking two showers today?"

He looked at her disparagingly as Ian finished his bottle and she handed him the second one, also full of Pedialyte. "Since you carried away my clothes and cleaned up the girls' room, I'm sure you can guess." She polished off a doughnut in three bites and waited anyway.

"Charlee and Amelia heard me come up the stairs and called out, thinking I was Teresa. I told them I'd be there in a few seconds, grabbed a new sleeper for Ian and took him in there to put it on. They'd both already thrown up in their beds and while I was trying to figure out what to do about it and hold onto Ian at the same time, I heard Teresa crawl up the stairs. I felt like a heel asking her to hold him since she was obviously sick herself, but she could hear the girls wailing, so she told me to set him down on the bed and go take care of them."

He paused to pop another doughnut in his mouth and open a can of soda. "Well, don't stop there, I'm positively riveted by the story," Allison prompted, stroking Ian's head as she, too, ate another doughnut.

"You definitely have a warped side, you know that?" She smiled in response and he fought to control the urge to laugh. "I went in and took them out of their beds to strip off the sheets and they both threw up, one after the other, holding onto my legs. And then they were crying and wailing and begging to be picked up. So I stripped off their nightgowns and tossed those into the pile with the sheets, picked up the girls and then they both threw up again, pretty much over my shoulders, down my back and onto the floor."

Allison, with more control than she thought she had, managed to keep her response to a smile and hoped she wouldn't choke on the juice. "And just when I thought it couldn't get worse, I felt something warm dribbling down my legs and they both looked mortified and started to cry even louder, wailing that they were sorry. I wanted to pop them both in the tub but figured that wasn't a wise idea from a sanitary point of view, so I sopped up what I could with their nightgowns, carried them into our shower, stripped down myself and set about cleaning them up. Thank God nothing else came out of either end."

Allison lost it at that point, releasing her laughter in a mild catharsis. "Um, sorry."

He fixed her with a reproachful stare. "Go ahead and laugh. *You* didn't have to deal with two sickies simultaneously. *And* you didn't get covered in slime either."

"For your information, both Trev and Anthony threw up in my presence, but *I* managed to keep myself out of the way. I also managed to tidy up while they separately showered."

He gazed at the challenge in her eyes. "Touche."

"Mommy, I spilled my drink," Anthony weakly yelled.

"Coming, honey," she replied, finishing the juice, popping one last doughnut into her mouth, stuffing the can and empty bottle into convenient pockets and gingerly lifting Ian up. "Duty calls. I'll take the boys, you take the females."

Walt watched her leave and felt an odd combination of emotions. He felt happy that Anthony was so accepting and loved her enough to call her 'Mommy,' but at the same time, he felt the same sort of rejection as when Anthony had wanted to speak to Clare alone those few days before she'd died. It hurt to know that his son wanted Allison when he was sick, and not him.

Several Hours Later

Teresa was snoozing while the kids, all with cool washcloths on their foreheads -- except Ian -- were huddled forlornly in their beds, listening to Allison and Walt's soothing voices as they independently read them stories. Ian was actually on the verge of sleep himself, draped across Allison's shoulder.

The sound of the doorbell roused both adults and each rose to answer it, meeting in the hall. "I'll get it, Walt. I know who it is." He nodded slowly, feeling for some inexplicable reason that he should go down anyway. He took Ian from her and watched warily as she descended the stairs. He mumbled, "Be right back," to the girls and followed her down in time to see her open the outer door to a tall, bearded man carrying a black bag.

"House full of sickies, huh, Ally?" the man asked.

Walt felt his abdominal muscles tighten as he recognized the voice and face. More exactly, his discomfiture arose from the man's uncanny resemblance to the man he had known as 'X.' But X was dead.

His reaction wasn't helped any when he saw the two of them exchange a short kiss on the cheek after Allison took his overcoat.

"Six, as a matter of fact, Frank. But I suppose you can't take a look at Teresa with the limitations of insurance coverage."

He laughed with a deep, almost booming sound. "I won't tell if you won't. Six? Who's number five?"

They made it into the main hall and Allison looked up without embarrassment or shame at Walt standing on the stairs. "My future stepson, Anthony," she replied, smiling warmly at Walt. "I don't know that the two of you have actually met. Dr. Frank Baschline, Walter Skinner, my fiance."

Baschline took Walt's extended hand. "You brought Anthony into the practice about this time last year, didn't you?"

Walt felt faint surprise. "Yes, I did. I'm impressed that you remember."

"So am I," Allison contributed.

"It's not every day that I see a six-year-old who's missing his spleen and been diagnosed with spherocytosis. Besides, you indicated on your paperwork that you'd been referred by Ally, and I always take note of the patients she sends my way." He set his bag down and reached for Ian. "Hey there, little buddy, so you're not feeling too well, huh? Let's go upstairs and take a look at you."

"Tea, Frank?"

"Sounds good, you know how I like it."

Walt felt nonplussed at the exchange; there was an air of familiarity to it that, for some unknown reason, made him think there was substantially more to the story between these two. And when was the last time a doctor made a house call anyway, he thought. He generally didn't consider himself a jealous man, but his hackles were rising.

About 35 Minutes Later

Baschline and Allison exited the guest room and again Walt saw it, an intangible familiarity between them. He followed them into the second-floor study.

"Definitely flu, all the way around," Baschline began. "There are a couple of bugs circulating just now, but I'm sure you noticed that with increased traffic at the drugstore, Ally. They'll all probably be down the rest of the week."

"That long?" Walt interjected, knowing he couldn't take the entire week off to stay home and help Allison.

Baschline looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "A bare minimum of two more days. Cross your fingers that they don't have a particularly pernicious version that's kept some of my patients down three weeks." He turned his attention back to Allison, who was looking thoughtful. "If it makes you feel any better, Zoe, Reed and Mia had it last week and drove Cynthia batty."

Walt noted, again, the wedding band and made the assumption that the aforementioned names belonged to Baschline's wife and children. "As soon as Trev, Anthony, Charlee and Amelia manage to keep solid food down, get the ibuprofen in them to bring the fevers down and take care of the headaches... until then, keep the cold compresses going."

"I'll still never understand how Ian can throw up right after getting his medicine and none of it comes up."

Baschline smiled at Allison as he finished scribbling some notes. "Beats the crap out of me, to be honest. But all three of mine managed to do the same thing as toddlers. The vomiting should diminish and hopefully disappear by tomorrow. Diarrhea might be a bit longer. A general lack of energy will hang on for several days, but if they're not feeling any better by Thursday, give me a call... especially if Anthony isn't feeling better."

"I really appreciate your coming out, Frank."

"No problem. You could hardly drag all of them into the waiting room. And you know I consider your kids special patients."

After moving downstairs, and receiving the co-payments, Baschline moved to the door. Allison was called back upstairs, but not before exchanging another cheek kiss in goodbye. Baschline noted the brief look of unease on Walt's face.

"I'll, uh, take care of the change of address for Anthony's file. You'll see it reflected when the office sends out your copy of the diagnosis. When's the wedding?"

"We haven't set a date yet."

Baschline put on his coat and smiled warmly. "She's a wonderful woman, Mr. Skinner. I was engaged to her myself, way back when. I'm sure you'll take good care of her."

With great effort, Walt controlled his reaction and smiled blandly back, extending his hand. "Yes, I will."

About 9:30p.m.

Allison yawned and absently stretched her muscles as she wandered back to their bedroom. Walt was just emerging from the bathroom and more or less met her on the bed. "I feel fair knackered," she offered, plopping backward. "Thank God this didn't happen last week, I'd already be in a coma from exhaustion. I spoke to Basil and he feels just awful about the kids and is crossing his fingers that he doesn't get it."

"That's twice today."

She looked over at him expectantly as he sat up on the bed. "Twice what?"

"Twice that you've used a British phrase -- 'fair knackered,' 'strewth.'"

Allison rolled her eyes. "Are you keeping track? Sometimes nothing fits better." With a gleam in her eyes, she went on. "I made sure the kids all had an extra rug to sleep under."

"A what? Oh, blanket."

Walt continued staring into space, not meeting her gaze. He'd been reticent and cool all day -- she'd realized something was bothering him, but chasing things down for the kids and nearly constantly cleaning up after them had made any sort of meaningful conversation impossible. She made the assumption of Anthony's calling her 'Mommy' as the core of the problem. But she was wrong.

"Sooo, how long have you and Frank known each other?" He deliberately put an air of humor in his tone, although his eyes betrayed a more serious implication.

"Oh, jeez," she said, shutting her eyes in concentration, trying to remember. "Since, uh, 1977; God, 20 years -- now I feel old. We overlapped three years at pharmacy school. Frank ducked out with his B.S. and went on to medical school, then did a three-year residency in pediatrics. We couldn't believe the coincidence when we came back from London. And by the way, jealousy doesn't suit you, so don't go down that road."

He allowed a smile to begin spreading across his face. "Frank said the two of you were engaged."

Allison immediately rolled over and sat upright. "What?" Walt repeated his statement. She burst out laughing and flopped over again. "The bugger. Yes, we were 'technically' engaged. He asked, I agreed and the next morning, when we'd sobered up, we laughed our heads off." Walt slid closer to her and trailed his fingertips across her forehead. "Basil, understandably, preferred that I keep my distance from Frank. Seemed to think I'd hop into bed with him at the first opportunity. Well, that's not really fair; he felt that way at first, but got over it."

Walt's fingers drifted down to her cheek; he remembered how he'd felt -- still felt -- about two of Clare's former lovers and couldn't really say he blamed Basil. "So, uh, did Basil always feel insecure about running into your old boyfriends?"

Allison stopped his fingers and sat up again. "Smooth, very smooth. I'd hate to be guilty of something and have you interrogating me for hours on end." Walt looked sheepish and studied something across the room for a few seconds. "Yes, in answer to your implied question, Frank and I were lovers. We were also roommates for about a year, which nearly gave my father a heart attack. But by the time he graduated, we were friends, nothing more."

Walt smiled, but Allison knew Frank wasn't the real issue. She took his hand and softly squeezed. "Anthony spent the first six and a half years of his life with only Clare to take care of him. It's not unusual for him to still seek female nurturing when he's sick. In no way should you view it as a rejection, Walt. He called me 'Mommy' every bit as much from wanting Clare as from accepting me as her substitute. I know it still hurts, but it wasn't meant that way."

He gazed into her eyes, his own reflecting evident relief and unequivocal love. "How did you know just what I needed to hear?"

She smiled warmly. "Because I'm a mom, and moms know everything." Walt rolled his eyes while shaking his head. "So were you able to get in touch with Kimberly?"

"Yes, she's going to reschedule everything. Tomorrow's no problem, since the majority of the staff will be home for Veterans Day. And she'll bump all high-priority meetings to the mornings so I can be here in the afternoon for the rest of the week."

Allison sighed as he stroked her hair. "I'll miss you this weekend while you're trying to make up all that work."

He leaned over and kissed her lips. "I'm sure you'll find a way to 'thank' me later."

Tuesday, November 18, 1997, 1:38p.m.

Walt stalked back into his office and Kimberly made a mental note to give him an extra-wide berth. All the nonpriority meetings from the previous week had piled up yesterday and earlier that morning. And his mood had been pretty dark already. She saw the light on his personal line go on and hoped he was calling home, since talking to Allison always seemed to calm him down.

"Firestine Jewelers, may I help you?"

"Yes, I'm calling to see if a special-order engagement ring has come in -- it would be under the name of Skinner. It's an emerald and white sapphire ring."

"Do you have the order number, sir?"

He shook his head impatiently, recalling seeing Ian take off with it for parts unknown almost two weeks earlier. "No, I'm sorry, I don't."

"Just one moment while I check, sir."

Walt dropped the phone away from his mouth while he waited and opened a drawer to gaze at the picture within. He'd hated posing for it at the time, but now he was glad he had.

Teresa had taken it of the whole family before the flu bug had swept through. Anthony and Trevor were on either side of Allison, their heads against her shoulders and her arms around them. Ian was sitting on her lap, leaning back against her chest -- both older boys had a hand on him. Walt was on the other side of Trevor, his arms wrapped around Charlee and Amelia as they sat on his lap. Everyone had smiled warmly and that was one of the reasons Walt kept the photo out of sight -- he didn't want his underlings to see that side of him.

He and Allison weren't even touching in the picture, but it struck him everytime he looked at the photo how clearly their love came through. He turned and looked at the wrestling one of Clare, he and Anthony that was still on the credenza, as were all of the others and made a mental note to remove the ones with Clare before he left for the day.

"Mr. Skinner," the thin voice was back, "I don't see it, but we're just getting a shipment in right now and it could be in there. Would you like me to check? It'll probably take five minutes."

Walt sighed and looked at his watch, deciding that he'd still have plenty of time to meet McIntire for their meeting. "Yes, go ahead and search, thank you." The voice said it would and disappeared again.

Kimberly hung up her phone and hesitated over delivering the message from McIntire's assistant. The last thing she wanted to do when his mood was so rotten was to interrupt her boss. She looked up in surprise as security escorted Allison into her office and wondered who he was talking to if she was here.

"Thank you, Doug," Allison said with a smile as he turned and left.

"I don't think he's expecting you, uh..." Kimberly's voice trailed off as she was uncomfortable referring to Allison by name in her presence.

"Kimberly, even *after* we're married, it's perfectly fine for you to call me 'Allison.'" She studied *her* face a moment, smiled warmly and lowered her voice, "Congratulations. When are you due?"

Kimberly blushed furiously, pleased and alarmed that it was apparent. "The last week of June, but I haven't told anyone here yet, uh, Allison."

Allison patted her hand comfortingly, "My sister is due the week after. Don't be surprised if Walt doesn't allow you to pick up anything heavier than a paper clip once you tell him. Your first?" She nodded. "Well, if you need to commiserate, give me a call. Four times makes me a pro."

Kimberly smiled in relief and returned to the comparative safety of her job. "Thank you. Mr. Skinner is on his private line at the moment, but he's free until three o'clock, the director just moved back their meeting an hour." She handed Allison the message.

"Mood?" Allison asked with an impish smile.

"Undoubtedly will be better in a few minutes," Kimberly replied diplomatically.

Walt picked up a pen and tapped it impatiently against the desk as he waited. He turned back to the door at the knocking and scowled. "Come," he hollered without much warmth. His expression changed dramatically for the better as Allison came through the doorway. She paused after closing the door and locked it before walking to him. "Not that I'm unhappy to see you, but I'm meeting with McIntire at two."

"Actually," she waved the message in his direction, "you're meeting him at three."

She reached his side and he unceremoniously wrapped an arm around her. "Best news I've heard all day." Walt kissed her with a good deal of feeling. "Hi."

Her eyes were fairly dancing as the kiss ended. "I take it you're on hold?"

She walked away again, toward the other door that led directly into the hall. With her back to him, he couldn't see what she was doing. "The jewelers are trying to decide if your ring has come back or not."

His attention went back to the phone, "Yes, I'm still here... all right, I understand, thank you." He put the phone down with disappointment. "Not there... they said to try again tomorrow."

He looked up and felt his heart skip a beat. Allison had verified that the other door was locked and completely unbuttoned the dress she was wearing. She was now shrugging out of both it and her coat, revealing black stockings and garter and a matching set of silk undergarments in a rich, vivid cerulean blue.

"Close your mouth," she purred, "unless you're planning to catch flies."

With effort, he recovered, swallowed a few times and had trouble taking his eyes off her as she sauntered back to the desk. "Here?" The first attempt was little more than a croak. "We can't do *that* in my office."

"Why not?" she countered, loosening his tie and removing his glasses. "If we keep trying to plan the perfect moment, we could both be old and very gray before we get around to having sex." He continued to stare into her eyes as she got his tie off and was in the process of pulling his white shirt out of his deep taupe trousers. "What better place -- we can generate some pleasant, intriguing memories to keep you going through the most boring of meetings."

Walt got a vacant smile on his face, thinking of her words... then shook his head and stopped her hands from opening more buttons. "Allison, we can't." She arched an eyebrow and proceeded to massage his partly exposed chest, threading her fingers through the hair as he softly groaned. "What if I get a phone call? Or someone could need to see me."

Allison eased herself into a sitting position on his desk and went back to opening his shirt. "Kimberly's holding all your calls and won't let anyone disturb us unless it's an emergency."

A horrified look crossed his face. "She knows?"

Allison unfastened his belt. "I think she got the gist. And I definitely think she approves. But unless one or both of us is exceptionally loud, she won't know for sure."

Walt turned his gaze hesitantly toward the door between their offices. "The walls are fairly soundproof," he mumbled.

"Good, now the only question is where." He groaned again as she'd gotten his trousers opened and was stroking his willing appendage.

He looked back into her eyes, his own glazing over. "You wore the stockings and garter just to, uh..."

"Stoke your fire? Yes, I did. Now pick a location."

Walt looked doubtfully at his desk and the conference table. He didn't think much of his chair either and settled for the government issue, drab-colored and somewhat less than supremely comfortable sofa. He led her over to it and sat down to remove his shoes. Allison immediately climbed behind him, straddling his hips and began massaging the still-present stress from his shoulders. When she started to kiss his smooth scalp, he let a guttural moan escape his lips. "I'm starting to really like this idea," he rasped.

"I thought you would," she replied, sliding down as he stood up to shuck his trousers, briefs and shirt.

"This sofa is unforgiving and not at all soft," he maintained, pulling her upright again. " *I'm* going on the bottom."

Allison stood up, pulled a condom from the back of her panties and tossed it to him as he stretched out on the furniture. "I'm hardly some delicate flower, but suit yourself. And it's your choice about whether to wear that or not, but I made sure to get something that would fit better." Her eyes had that look of mischief again as she removed her shoes, bra and panties. Walt decided to err on the side of caution and put the condom on. She climbed onto him, leaving the stockings and garter on. "Mmm, no talking, no stalling and a little foreplay. We're really going to do it this time, come hell or high water."

"Yes, ma'am," was all Walt managed to get out as she captured his mouth and thrust against him. They exchanged a few deep, thorough kisses before she sat up, raised herself off him, and guided his turgid erection into her. Both sighed heavily and gazed at the other with a glowing passion. As she started to move, he ran his hands up her thighs and sides, drawing her back to him, twisting his head till it was level with her breasts.

Allison started moaning as she held onto the end of the sofa with one hand for balance and wrapped the other around his neck to support him. Oh, God, she thought, he has such a talented mouth and tongue. And then his teeth grazed the flesh with just the right amount of pressure and the breath caught in her throat. She felt him thrusting back as she circled her hips, his hands firmly gripping them.

Walt leaned his head back, wordlessly asking for her mouth, which she eagerly gave him. After two powerful kisses, she pushed herself up and the two began thrusting in earnest. Allison ran her hands repeatedly over his chest while he caressed her inner thighs. She felt herself climbing. From the grunts, groans and moans coming from Walt, she knew he wasn't far behind.

Allison smiled at him just before he closed his eyes again and for some inexplicable reason, her gaze wandered over to his credenza. She saw the pictures of Clare and felt her passion disappear like a light switch turned off. She stumbled momentarily in the rhythm they'd established and fiercely shut her eyes, not wanting Walt to see what was in them. No blanket of warmth enveloped her, but neither did she feel the opposite effect -- Clare was clearly not present, not trying to influence anything, but her image had blown it for Allison.

She could hardly tell Walt that, however. His breathing sounded more ragged and she figured that if she held on a little longer, he'd climax and that would be the end of it. Until she realized he was holding back, waiting for her.

Strewth! Why can't we catch a break, she thought. Now I'm going to have to fake it with him, too, and God, I hate to do that. All right, Allison, you're used to doing this. Adjust breathing, start vocalizing -- a couple of whimpers, some gasps, a few 'yeses', a big vocal finish and don't forget to contract your vaginal muscles. Well, here goes nothing, she continued.

The performance thus ensued and Walt's eyes flew open in question and surprise for a split second before he was too far gone to stop. He pumped himself more furiously into her and let out a long, low moan of pleasure. Allison waited till his thrusts stopped before leaning forward and draping herself across his chest/shoulder, breathing and sighing deeply.

Walt struggled to catch his breath and rationalize what he thought just happened. "Carissima?"

"Umm," she burrowed her head further into his shoulder. "What language is that?"

"Italian... it means 'darling.' You've got a choice of 'tesoro' or 'gioia,' they both can mean 'sweetheart.'" Allison let both slide off her tongue a few times before settling on 'tesoro.'"All right, now that that's settled," Walt awkwardly continued, "did you just fake it?"

Allison raised her head in record speed. "What? Of course not." Now how the hell could he even be guessing that, she wondered. "Why on earth would you even ask me such a thing?" She sat up and separated from him, careful not to look directly at him, but not as careful about averting her eyes from the credenza.

Walt eased himself more into a reclining position. "Because at the risk of sounding tremendously egotistical, I've made love to enough women to have an inkling about the difference."

She managed to adopt a patronizing stare. "Do I really need to point out that no two women are the same? And that likewise, one shouldn't expect each sexual experience with the same partner to be identical?"

He shook his head as her eyes strayed to the pictures again. "No, you hardly need to lecture me--"

"Besides, I was drunk the other time. My reactions when I'm drinking are wholly different than when I'm sober."

She looked briefly behind him before standing up and walking back to her dress and coat. He craned his neck to see what she had been glancing at. His eyes lit up in sudden understanding and he swung his legs over the side of the sofa.

Walt walked behind his desk and gently turned the three pictures down. A bizarre thought came to him and he hoped no snoops from the Justice Department had binoculars trained on his windows. He flicked the blinds completely closed as an afterthought. "Allison, carissima, you should have said something, I would have understood. Looking up at a picture of Basil wouldn't have done me any great shaking favors either," he uttered compassionately.

She dropped the coat again, having retrieved from the pocket what she wanted. "I didn't want to ruin it for both of us." Her downcast expression lifted some. "Although I still can't believe you knew. Most guys haven't a clue."

Walt smiled as he slowly walked to her. "Well, *I'm* not most guys and to be perfectly honest, I was guessing. It just somehow felt like the connection wasn't there anymore. And I trust that that was the first, last and only time you'll ever fake it." He tenderly stroked her cheek as she leaned into it.

Allison looked down with the faintest air of embarrassment, then started to softly laugh. He eyed her questioningly. "Sorry, you just look a little humorous in nothing but your socks."

She handed him a plastic bag with a trace of a smile. "Unless of course you'd rather leave the condom for the cleaning crew." He shot her a narrow-eyed look as he removed the prophylactic and stuffed it in the bag. "I'd better be going," she sighed with a lack of enthusiasm.

He caught her hand as she started to bend for her clothes and entwined his fingers with hers. "Not so fast. If the point of this visit was to finally, uh, 'enjoy' each other, we've still got some unfinished business." Allison looked with skepticism at her watch. "There's plenty of time." He smiled. "Properly motivated, my, uh, recovery rate can be as little as 15 minutes."

"And just what sort of motivation do you require, Mr. AD?" she asked, hands reaching out to stroke his flaccid appendage. Allison held the base of his penis in one hand and rubbed the tip with the flattened palm of her other hand.

"Mmm, that'll do just fine," he murmured, eyes closing at the sensation.

"I could always go for the instant erection, if you'd rather."

He opened his eyes immediately to gaze into the gleam in hers. "You go near my prostate and you'll regret it."

"Well, gee, tesoro, I *am* a licensed professional."

Walt arched his eyebrows. "Wrong profession notwithstanding."

"Hmm." She guided him back toward the conference table and leaned him against it. "Lend me your ear?" she seductively asked. Before he could question what she wanted to talk about, Allison had slid her tongue into it, sending shivers up and down his spine. She thoroughly explored every crevice and contour, finishing up by sucking on his earlobe.

"Oh, God, you keep that up and I may break a record."

She stopped and gazed into his eyes. "Which?"

"Doesn't matter," he gasped and pulled her tightly against him, plunging his tongue into her mouth, effectively ending her ability to do either. He held her hands behind her back before his fingers branched out to massage the base of her spine and knead the yielding flesh of her buttocks. Walt moved his lips to her throat and suckled with rampant abandon.

Allison let him 'play' a few moments longer before pulling back and grinning. He looked at her expectantly, wondering what was going through her mind. "What is that grin for?"

She wetly kissed his chin, throat and the top of his chest before replying. "You'll find out." His mind worked out where she was heading and he leaned back again, sighing deeply, thinking he couldn't remember spending a more pleasant afternoon in his office.

Her progress was erotically slow as she paused to suckle his tiny nipples, sending shudders through him. Allison's head slid lower, tonguing his navel till he thought he would go insane. And then she finally reached her target and he bit his lower lip to restrain the tumultuous groan that wanted to leave his mouth. With only about five minutes having passed, he felt a partial erection returning and held her head to him, even if she seemed in no hurry to leave.

At length, he pulled her back up, finding her mouth again, squashing her breasts against his chest with his embrace. His eyes were completely alight with passion.

"Your turn," he proclaimed with a pronounced husky tone. Walt turned them around and leaned her against the table before dropping to his knees. With the smallest of effort, his mouth lined up with one breast and he laved it slowly with his tongue, flicking it repeatedly over the already hardened nipple. Once he started suckling, it seemed as though he'd never stop, switching back and forth between the two, gently biting every few seconds, driving her absolutely crazy.

The sounds of her whimpers and moans, combined with her quivering body, was having a definite effect on him. Then he thought of something to do to fill in the remaining minutes that would put him over the top and test her ability to be restrained. He pulled his head away from her breast, placed his hands on her hips as he stood up and effortlessly hoisted her onto the table. Her eyes flashed in acknowledgment and he knelt again to accommodate his intention.

Allison put her palms flat on the conference table, behind her and leaned partly backward, giving him better access. He parted her thighs and dragged his tongue once over the sensitive flesh, causing her to silently jump even though she was expecting it. "Ohhh, tesoro," she moaned as he continued licking, sucking and probing.

He altered his pace at the signs from her body. Walt felt her trying to thrust against him, trying to urge him faster and harder. He easily obliged, knowing that with a few more deft motions, he'd push her over the edge.

Reluctantly, Allison kept her response quiet. Her hips, however, bucked convulsively as the orgasm poured over her body, lighting her up like a firework. Her breathing momentarily caught in her throat and began again with a small gasp as her body relaxed and Walt pulled away from her. He smiled with deep satisfaction, knowing she'd just experienced the real thing. He also knew he was completely ready.

"Condom?" he quickly asked as she leaned all the way back. After a very brief hesitation, he pushed her knees further up the table.

She shook her head. "Russian roulette again. I didn't come *that* prepared. It would probably be far more responsible of us to forgo this opportunity and not take the chance of proving Anthony wrong about controlling our urges."

Walt looked at the expression that said she had no intention of adhering to her own words and crawled onto the table over her. "We're not leaving this room until our 'urges' have been jointly satisfied by one unifying act."

Kimberly tried to do some filing, but try as she might, she just couldn't get her mind focused on anything other than what she imagined was going on behind the closed door. She liked Allison, her easygoing manner, her straightforwardness. They were two things one didn't always encounter in the hallowed halls of the FBI.

And just as her mind started thinking of one agent in particular who seldom had those traits, he appeared in the doorway. "Kimberly, is Skinner in? I need to see him ASAP."

She looked at Mulder. "I'm sorry, Agent Mulder. The Assistant Director is tied up," she said, mentally wincing at the imagery those words sent through her head, "in a meeting right now. Then he's got an appointment with the director at three. I don't know how long that will last."

Mulder looked petulant and waved the papers in his hand. "Can't you interrupt him?"

"I'm afraid I can't disturb him for anything less than an emergency. Does your need fit that criterion?"

Before he could answer, a muted cry was heard from the inner office. It was swiftly followed by a deeper, but no more distinct sound. Imagination engaged, Mulder raised his eyes in acute interest and directed a wordless inquiry at Kimberly.

She simply looked back at Mulder blandly. "You haven't noticed any mice in your office, have you, Agent Mulder? Mr. Skinner seems to have one scurrying around his office today... If you're sure that your need is an emergency," she picked up her phone, "I'll let him know you're waiting."

"No, no. That's all right. I'll just wait a few minutes, if you don't mind," he answered quickly as he sat down.

Just over 10 minutes later, the door opened and Allison and Walt emerged in the middle of a conversation. Both looked perfectly normal, not red-faced or sweaty, and positively not embarrassed or guilty. "The only problem with a fall, outdoor wedding, Walt, is that the window is too tight to have it between Charlee and Amelia's birthdays and the weather gets too uncertain later into October."

"You're probably right, Allison." Walt's gaze took in Mulder and he scowled, more for show than anything else. "We'll discuss it more tonight."

"Did you have any luck with that mouse, sir?" Kimberly forewarned.

Walt looked at Mulder, seeing Kimberly's expression out of the corner of his eye... silently groaning as the implication sunk in. "No, although I daresay it was the largest one Allison's seen in a long time."

Oh, no you don't, she thought. "I'd say it was closer to a rat in size, Kimberly. A hairy, presumptuous old thing." She turned back to Walt with a trace of a gleam. "Isn't that right?"

He knew full well she was baiting him and refused to be enticed, thinking instead he had a lifetime of bantering ahead of him. A lifelong commitment's worth.

Anthony, Book Three: Holiday Bustle(A Time For Reflection, Ruse and Christmas Miracles)
Author: Clare Skinner

Thursday, December 4, 1997, 12:59a.m.

Allison stormed toward the back door in a foul mood, wanting to slam the door shut behind her but having too much common sense to do it. Of course, if she'd had *more* sense, she wouldn't be letting her last two customers get to her like this. She fumbled with her keys, dropping them twice and swearing under her breath both times. "Why couldn't it be Saturday or Sunday," she muttered as she unlocked the door. "At least then I could wake up Walt and bitch."

In rapid sequence, Allison punched the code in to deactivate and then reactivate the alarm. Once inside, she wandered over to the kitchen island, nose twitching at the aroma wafting through the air, and found the note Walt had left her.

Carissima, Charlee dared Amelia to swallow a dime, so you can watch for it to come out tomorrow or the next day and/or warn the school. Don't try to play anything on the VCR in the family room, because Ian discovered he could fit his peanut butter and jelly sandwich into it quite nicely. Unfortunately, he separated the halves before he put them in.

Allison rolled her eyes and wondered what Ian was doing with a PBJ sandwich when she'd left chicken and biscuits for dinner. She turned the note over and found her answer.

I'll replace the pot I burned this weekend. By the way, you might want to shop for a new raincoat. Anthony and Trevor tried to flush your old one down the toilet, which is why it overflowed, which is why I burned dinner. Hope your evening went better than mine. Walt

Allison felt a fit of giggles overtake her momentarily. She wondered what sort of punishment Walt had doled out. Well, Charlee's transgression had yet to be proven. Allison picked up the phone and called the only person who would appreciate the note, her customers and still be available at this hour.

She waited for the connection to go through, hoping her brother and his wife would be home. After five rings, Andy's booming voice came across the lines.

"Shiver me timbers, lassie! Me mates have abandoned me and I be too busy chasing me comely wench 'round the gang plank to speak at ye..."

He was home. Allison rolled her eyes and joined in, matching the cheesy accent. "Not even for a stay of execution from her Majesty, the Queen, Pirate Captain Hogle?"

.".. Aye, me thinks I'll have to give that some thought, lassie."

She started laughing. "Jeez, Andy, pirate and the wench? Trying to add some spice to your sex life?"

"You should talk, Allison, we got it from you and Basil," Andy answered. "Although I think Walt would make a better pirate, from what I've heard." There was a leer in his tone.

"Not into games... and, I might add, he doesn't need to be... Besides, Basil and I never answered the phone advertising what we were doing -- what'd you do, get caller ID?"

"Yeah, it's great. I can tailor my fake answering machine messages for each person. You should have heard the one I did last night for Mom."

"Do I even *want* to know what you really have on the machine?"

"Just a holiday ditty."

She shook her head, still smiling. "Like last year's 'Mary had a little lamb, it spoke and said Shalom, leave a message at the bleat, for we are not at home'?"

"Hey, that was a classic. For a moment I thought you were referring to the one about cleaning the roof after Santa's reindeer."

She chuckled. "You're going to cheer me up before I've had the chance to rant and rave about the public."

"I wondered why you were calling me this late. What's wrong with Walt's ear, not sympathetic?"

"Walt and I have a deal -- I don't wake him up when I get home Thursday and Friday, and he lets me sleep in Saturday and Sunday."

"Sounds fair." She heard the sound of a pop top being opened. "Okay, I've got my beer, let her rip."

Allison took a deep breath before starting to recite the trials and tribulations of the various and sundry oddball characters who had graced her counter that evening. She mused that maybe the day shift would have more logical, rational customers -- or maybe not.

She ended her nearly nonstop diatribe when she glanced outside and was reminded of the note. " And hey, you rat, you owe me for a new raincoat."

"And just how do you figure that?"

"Because you sent Trev and Anthony that Bill Cosby tape about flushing one down the toilet."

"Enterprising little buggers. Consider it a payback for all the things you taught *my* kids."

"Oh, right, like blowing bubbles through a straw and making spitballs is an even comparison."

"What about snuffing out candles with their fingers? Or baking cotton balls into muffins for April Fool's?"

"I'll plead guilty to the first; but I had nothing to do with the second." Allison snickered under her breath at the picture in her mind of Andy's reaction to *that* mouthful. "Sounds more like something Audrey would do... or maybe Avery, he's always been a practical joker." Her other siblings were so inclined to practical jokes -- maybe it was genetic.

"Yeah, well, Aaron's not old enough for me to teach bad habits to," he said, his voice trailing off as he thought about his youngest nephew. " 'Course, I could probably teach him to spray saliva."

"Am I the only one in this family who's having trouble distinguishing the adults from the children?" she asked with an amused air of reproachfulness. "If you tick off Avery, I won't have room for you here for Christmas."

"Good God, that's right. Just exactly how many of us will be in attendance for Christmas Day?"

"If you count 'adults' as being over 18, 10 kids and 19 adults."

"And just so we're clear on this, we're not obligated to get Christmas gifts for anyone but the kids directly related to us, right?"

"Well, it would be nice if you got our parents something and I'm sure your son would appreciate a graduation gift."

"Jeez, you're a smart ass."

"And I learned from the best." They both laughed briefly. "You are not expected to purchase gifts for Walt's deceased wife's niece and nephew nor for Basil's girlfriend's daughter," she added.

Allison envisioned her brother biting his lip to keep from making a derogatory remark about the last guests. She knew he thought she was a little touched for inviting Basil and that he wasn't going to antagonize her by saying so. She just hoped he could hold his tongue in the spirit of the holiday.

Allison sighed quite audibly. "Well, I'd better sign off."

Andy sighed too. "You're right. And thanks again for all the furniture. Eric called last Sunday and said he couldn't believe how much stuff you and Walt gave him."

"No problem. That's what family is all about -- hand-me-downs."

They disconnected a few seconds later and Allison couldn't stop her mind from focusing on family. Focusing on Andy's oldest child, Eric, who was in college. She remembered the anxious, frightened phone call almost two years ago, the one that said Eric had been rushed to Thomas Jefferson University Hospital after he'd collapsed in the middle of a game. He'd been diagnosed with Hodgkin's disease and his dreams of playing 'b-ball' had faded in a breath to be replaced with simply surviving the cancer.

She paused in her thoughts as she checked on the peacefully sleeping boys, knowing that all too soon, Trevor and Anthony would be entering the forum of organized sports. It was a frightening prospect; she had no intention of holding any of her children back if they were eager to perform, to explore, to develop their skill. But neither was she anxious for it.

Allison kissed both boys on the forehead, seeing their eyes shift back and forth in REM sleep. She wished again that 'her babies' wouldn't grow up too fast. She knew that right now, both were two level-headed kids, flushing raincoats down toilets or not.

She partly closed the girls' door and wondered what dreams all five were having now -- probably dreams of what Santa was going to bring them this year. Maybe it was because of the tremendous upheaval in their own lives over the past 12 months, but whatever the reason, the kids had uncharacteristically short lists.

Allison crawled into bed and snuggled instinctively next to Walt's large form as it radiated heat. The one thing she most wanted for Christmas wasn't possible this year, but next year, she thought, next year maybe I'll be pregnant. She let this and other thoughts flutter through her mind as she drifted off to sleep, rude customers becoming distant memories.

6:09a.m.

Walt woke slowly and peered at the alarm clock, noting with satisfaction that he'd awakened right before it was due to go off. He used to be able to get up each morning without assistance, but with Allison cuddled close against him, he found it difficult to convince his body it was time to get moving. With a deft movement, he flicked the alarm off and reluctantly climbed out of the warmth of the bed, pausing to gaze at her.

He left his glasses on the nightstand, and a few short moments later was dressed and ready for his morning run. Walt checked to see that the children were still covered -- Ian being a terrible one for throwing off his blanket -- and made his way downstairs. He assembled the necessary items to start the coffee machine, punched in the code, reactivated the alarm and quietly left the house in the 20 seconds allowed.

Walt went through a few stretching exercises as his lungs filled with the crisp air. A few calf stretches, some ankle rolls, a couple raggedy anns to loosen up and he was on his way. He glanced at the thermometer at the edge of the porch and noted that it was a semi-brisk 34. By the time he reached the end of the driveway, the motion sensor lights on the back porch had gone out.

The overhead street lamps did a reasonable job of reflecting the gleam of the recent rain, currently semi-frozen in thin, treacherous sheets. Walt did his best to avoid these spots as he welcomed the mental cleansing that went hand in hand with this activity. Things always seemed so clear and uncluttered and he'd be able to puzzle out work-related problems. Like what Scully and Mulder were up to.

They'd been suspiciously quiet the last two weeks and that was never a good sign. Just like the children -- at least when you could hear them, you knew what they were doing. Walt tried to make himself believe that after his last shouting match with them -- his agents, not the kids -- they were toeing the line.

He'd argued with them about everything from failure to even remotely follow Bureau policy to monopolizing the lab -- AD Padinski was making noises about his division servicing the *whole* of the FBI plus, not just the X-Files -- to drastically curbing their outlandish expenses -- AD Balthazar claimed those two racked up more expenses in a typical week than most departments in a month.

Walt snorted. "If they did what they were told, they wouldn't be Scully and Mulder," he told himself out loud. He also smiled as he thought for the thousandth time that pain in the asses though they were, they were two of the most talented agents he'd ever worked with and his job would be considerably more dull without them.

But safe.

Walt approached a vehicle parked almost perfectly under one of the street lights, and his unconscious mind took in a bumper sticker advertising a Pennsylvania college, or more to the point the town in which it was located -- Reading. He suddenly felt that connection to his wayward agents again. He'd been so like them once, taking chances, ignoring policies that got in the way of his gut feelings -- of course, he liked to think he was more subtle about 'breaking' the rules.

Walt still tended to keep more than the casual eye on non-Bureau cases in the off-chance that they would fall under FBI jurisdiction. Which was how the Redding case had started.

By all outward appearances, there had been nothing to link the fires, and the local police hadn't even been investigating them as arson. There had just been something about those four fires that had bothered Walt, something intangible. Since no foul play had been suspected by the various precincts, obtaining the scanty files hadn't been too difficult... until two more that fit the pattern he'd been developing turned up. Then access had gotten more prickly and he'd spent several nights urging the various firefighters to loosen their tongues over friendly pitchers of beer.

It had been on one of those nights that he'd found support of his extracurricular activities in the person of a colleague. Walt had felt utterly stupid for failing to notice his superior and then acutely uncomfortable when he'd unerringly put his finger on what Walt was doing. Instead of flack, however, this colleague had almost seemed pleased by Walt's initiative. He'd even offered some general advice about getting ahead in the Bureau -- 'If you always play it safe, always strictly follow the rules, they will defeat you. The most successful agents are those who aren't afraid to gamble, have an inborn tenacity, require trace amounts of sleep and have a 110 percent capacity for details.'

He'd then left, saying his wife would be irritated if he left her alone any longer with their newborn, three- and five-year-olds. Walt recalled watching the retreating back of then-Deputy Assistant Director In Charge (DC field office) Edward McIntire with a bit of awe and surprise.

The morning after running into McIntire, he'd been given a green light to investigate.

With all of the Bureau's resources now open to him and the complete cooperation of the police and fire departments, it had still taken him a week to find the correlation. And during that week, he'd wondered more than once if he was making a fool of himself, destroying his career instead of helping it. But he'd found the commonality -- all the buildings had been serviced by the same company of electricians.

Blessing city directories, Walt had gone to the business. It was on its fifth name in 45 years. After utilizing his best persuasive tone, Walt had gotten access to all the dusty, mildewed records to discover that all the dwellings had been serviced by one Sebastian Redding, son of the original proprietor.

Finding the first record had been tortuous, but acting on intuition, Walt had quickly located the others -- all service calls on Sebastian Redding's birthday. Walt had then extrapolated the probable next target. It had been a garish discotheque with the requisite mirrored ball hanging from the shiny ceiling. Three spiral staircases had led to a series of semi-enclosed 'boxes' on a second-floor gallery overhanging the dance floor. The interior had been bright, colorful and full of synthetics that would burn almost at the drop of a match.

The barman of the club had told him with too much indignation that of course they never kept the emergency exits locked to prevent gatecrashers. The reaction had made Walt wonder what other fire regulations were being ignored -- about a dozen, as it had turned out. Management hadn't thought kindly of him and since they'd just received a clean bill of health from the local fire inspector the previous month, Walt's interference had also sparked off an investigation into corruption in that department.

He'd captured Redding in the act of sabotaging the wiring about an hour before the club had been due to open that night. Receipts had later shown that more than 250 people had been in and out; and given the code violations, had the fire been successful, the death count would have been appalling.

Walt had had difficulty at first believing that Redding had simply become an embittered old man seeking revenge against the 'buildings' that had kept him from enjoying his birthday in peace. Maybe knowing that he was dying from lung cancer had pushed him over the edge -- ironically, he'd died on his birthday in 1980, behind the bars of his prison cell.

All the reminiscing had blurred the distance he had run; he was surprised to see where it had taken him.

Walt paused on the steps of his former house, amazed that the details of that case were still so vivid after almost 20 years. Time had forced him to understand that the smallest and sometimes most irrational things were enough to send some people down the road to psychosis. He waved at the paperboy as he rode past and forced himself to think of more pleasant topics.

The house had been on the market for a few weeks now and despite all the naysayers telling him it was the wrong time of the year to sell, it looked as if a contract was in the offering. And none too soon, since the house was now completely empty. He was going to lose a little money on the deal, but he'd expected that, having owned for such a short time.

He laughed as he got up from the steps, remembering the look Allison had given him when the realtor had brought up the subject of appliances. Without thinking he'd said that all were staying and Allison had instantly corrected him to say that the washer and dryer weren't. They'd had a quick, 'heated' discussion about the need for another set in a one-family home. And she'd countered, explaining that the less time she had to spend doing the laundry, the more time she could devote to -- other pursuits.

He'd instantly acquiesced.

He began the return journey, thinking he was looking forward to some peace and quiet this coming weekend. The previous one had seen various Hoffmanns and Hogles for Thanksgiving.

And of course, the final moving had been done. Participating in three moves within a month wasn't exactly his idea of fun.

Slowly, Walt was meeting all of the Hogle clan. And so far he'd determined that all were outgoing, personable types, brimming with confidence, sarcasm and an aptitude for practical jokes. He admired the way Eric had done a 180-degree turn with his career path and appreciated the way he'd espoused the value of scholastics to the kids at Thanksgiving.

As Walt neared home, he mentally ran through all the upcoming events. The school Christmas pageants on the 17th, the FBI Christmas dinner on the 19th, Eric's graduation ceremony on the 21st and an unbelievable number of family visiting for Christmas. Walt realized he'd get no peace for nearly two weeks straight. And, as he reached the back porch again and the welcoming lights, he grinned, knowing he wouldn't miss being so surrounded for anything. Holiday bustle at its best, he thought.

Walt hesitated as he entered the bedroom, two steaming mugs of coffee in his hands. The smell alone was usually enough to awaken Allison, but not this morning. He walked to her side of the bed and smiled at her sprawled form before carefully waving the aromatic brew under her nose.

She drew herself together, stretched briefly and rolled over. "Go away," she growled.

Never one to give up easily, Walt grinned as he put the mugs down. He sat on the bed and slipped his still-cold hands under her shirt and onto her warm, bare back.

Allison flinched sharply. "Jesus, Walt! I'm going to stick my hands in the freezer before I come up to bed in the morning -- see how *you* like it." His smile became even broader as he removed his hands from her still-squirming body and picked up his mug again. She squinted at the clock -- 7:09a.m. "Just let me sleep another 20 minutes," she groaned.

Walt handed her the other mug, which she grudgingly took. "Ut, uh, this is the only quiet time we get today... now up."

Allison continued to swear at him under her breath as he prodded her to the bathroom. She sleepily coaxed a brush through her unruly hair as she unhurriedly removed her nightclothes, pausing often to sip her coffee. Walt stripped off his decidedly damp clothes, took another large gulp of his own coffee, grabbed a bath towel to place on the commode, put his mug down on the tank and stepped into the shower. The water was running a few seconds later. Allison joined him.

"If you burst into 'Home On The Range,' I'm going to smack you," she threatened, edging him out for the warm spray and wetting her hair.

"Never fear, carissima, I wouldn't dream of sullying your morning by subjecting you to my voice." He regained his position while she reached for the shampoo.

"You're just a barrel of laughs this morning, tesoro."

"And you," he countered, while she squeezed out the proper amount of shampoo into his waiting hand, "got up on the wrong side of the bed."

"What do you expect after five and a half hours of sleep, give or take," she grumbled while he lathered her hair, feeling the tension disappear from her body. Allison filled him in on her night, pausing to rinse off some of the suds to likewise wash his fringe of hair. She finished her story while they took turns rinsing and he was chuckling.

While they soaped up washcloths to clean each other, Walt related his evening in graphic detail, to which Allison chuckled wholeheartedly again. He left her so he could go shave while she stood under the pulsing gush of the water.

Walt heard the water shut off just as he splashed his face clean. He took Allison's mug, half full, back to the shower and handed it to her as he picked up the towel and gently patted her dry. "I don't know how you do it," he murmured. "Drink half a cup of coffee, take a shower and still be mostly asleep."

"It's a gift," she replied, grinning slightly. "I can function quite well on autopilot."

Walt stood in front of the cheval mirror as he adjusted his tie. Allison wandered back in a few seconds later, wearing her jade robe and still yawning. He heard the thunder of four children trying to beat each other to the bathrooms. She glimpsed the combination he was wearing and shook her head. "What?" he queried as she ambled into the closet.

"Not a thing." Walt was wearing his gray-striped suit with a white Oxford shirt and navy tie with teal and caramel-brown diamonds. She glanced his way again and smiled a little broader as she eased into black pants and a fuchsia top. "I just wouldn't wear that tie with that suit."

Walt looked down at his tie. "What's wrong with it?"

"It doesn't have any gray in it and the caramel clashes with your suit. But," and she sighed exaggeratedly, "I suppose as long as you have your suit jacket off, it won't be *that* obvious."

He stuck his tongue out at her and left the closet with her laughing in his wake.

7:53a.m.

Allison was making lunches as the children finished their breakfasts. Walt sat at the end of the table in shirt sleeves, reading the morning newspaper and periodically peering over the top of it to keep an eye out. Considering the punishment of the night before -- no television or computer -- all five seemed in good spirits and behavior this morning and chattered over their breakfast. Ian indicated he was finished by tossing his sippy cup over the side of his highchair. Walt smiled at the typical morning antics and looked at his watch.

"Okay, troops, time to head upstairs for teeth brushing." The screech of chairs being pushed back nearly deafened him as Trevor, Anthony, Charlee and Amelia hopped up, threw their mock salutes and ran out to the hall. Walt stood up and moistened a paper towel before venturing near Ian.

Ian started to climb upright and mumbled 'up,' holding his arms out. "Not on your life, buddy," Walt told him. "I'm not picking you up till that face and those hands are clean."

Allison smiled as she assembled the children's lunches. She glanced at her two 'men' and started to warn Walt as he picked Ian up, but it was too late. Walt carried him over to Allison as she closed each lunchbox. "You'll need to change that shirt and tie." She pointed with amusement at the strawberry stains on the front of his shirt.

"Ian!" Walt hurriedly and carefully put him down, exasperated. "Now how did that happen? I cleaned him up."

Allison picked off strawberry from Ian's sleeper before replying. "Because you missed what was on his *red* sleeper. What happened to those razor-sharp powers of observation?"

Walt narrowed his eyes and mouthed the words 'smart ass' at her before hurrying off to change. Allison followed at a more sedate pace, carrying Ian with his back pressed against her. When she reached the top of the stairs, the kids flew past her, all with knapsacks flapping. "Five minutes," she hollered as she went into Ian's room.

She found Walt standing on his side of the walk-in closet a few moments later, hands on hips, in his T-shirt. "Well, since you disapproved of my other choice, pick out something," he half-growled, half-grinned.

Still holding Ian, Allison without hesitation pulled out another white Oxford shirt -- except this one had a narrow wine-colored repeating stripe between wide expanses of white. For a tie she grabbed the same one he'd worn at the restaurant -- gray, with burgundy and teal diamonds. "That tie is practically the same pattern as the other one," he muttered, taking the items.

"Except this time the colors don't clash and the burgundy in the tie picks up the stripe in the shirt and suit. Now get dressed and out of here before you're late."

He grinned as he followed her back out; she stripped down Ian and efficiently redressed him while Walt donned the shirt and tie. "So what's on your agenda this morning?" he asked.

"Supermarket for all the cookie supplies plus, fabric store for Christmas outfits and the oddments that came in for the play costumes."

"I can't believe they roped you into making costumes for the whole fourth grade."

She rolled her eyes. "It's only half the whole fourth grade and you know it. Who knew so few parents could sew or would volunteer to help make costumes? Besides, with all help I got at Thanksgiving, most everything is done. And you've put in more than a few hours making scenery."

He finished the tie and tilted her chin for a kiss. "True. Christmas outfits, huh? Does that include the dress you're making for the FBI dinner?" Allison waggled her eyebrows suggestively. "Just what exactly will this dress look like?"

She smiled impishly as she stood. "It's classified and your clearance isn't high enough."

Walt arched an eyebrow, stole a look at the clock and pulled her into his arms for a longer, far more satisfying kiss. He wasn't actually *that* interested, but couldn't resist playing along. "I'll wheedle it out of you. Vee ave vays of getting information."

"Is that a challenge?" she countered. "Because if it is, I accept. No bribing kids and no instructing Anthony to use his gift, though."

He responded with mock indignation. "I wouldn't dream of misusing Anthony's gift, but other than that, the kids are fair game as spies."

"Guess I won't be working on the dress when Amelia isn't in preschool."

His eyes flashed with mischief as he looked toward the clock again, "Sounds fine to me, but the terms of victory will have to wait. Deal?"

"Mum! If we don't leave *right* now, we'll be too late to walk," Trevor yelled up the stairs.

"In a minute!" she answered. "Deal," Allison replied to Walt as they shook on the pact.

10:24a.m.

Walt finished reading over the November end-of-month report from the International Relations Branch and pushed back his chair. Nothing out of the ordinary in the legal attache offices... investigations were still pending, ongoing or concluded. He picked up the pages and read again about the successful capture of a band of jewel thieves in France. The investigation had been overseen by Legat Drayton.

Legat Rosalind Drayton, one-time colleague... and more than one-time occupant of his bed.

The affair had occurred as a result of their involvement in the White murder case, and neither had expected nor wanted it to be permanent. The successful conclusion of the case had garnered them both high praise and Walt had made a lateral career move back to the DC field office a few months later, recommending Drayton for promotion to SAC in his place.

They'd kept in touch, talking several times a year, but mostly exchanging E-mail. She'd been quite sympathetic regarding Clare, happy about Anthony and seemed pleased about Allison.

He chuckled as he gazed out the window, drumming his fingers on the credenza. If anyone would enjoy the bet he and Allison had made that morning, it would be Roz -- she had been a clotheshound.

Let's see, Walt thought, what sort of strategy am I going to employ? Bugging the dining room and/or surveillance with a high-powered camera were immediately discarded. Allison wasn't the type to be overly arcane -- getting the kids to spy for him should do the trick. And if that didn't work, he could always surprise her with a lunchtime visit and catch her in the act of making the garment. Oh, yeah, he thought, this is going to be like taking candy from a baby.

Not too concerned with *how* he'd win the bet, Walt focused his attention on his 'spoils' instead. Now what would she least want to do? That was a little tougher... she had few inhibitions and could smile her way through most anything. Maybe have her shine all my shoes or wax my car? No, too mundane.

His eyes lit up as another possibility came to mind. If there was one thing she *did* enjoy, it was sleep... and dragging her out for one of his 6a.m. runs on a Thursday or Friday should do the trick. Except as a complete novice, she probably wouldn't last more than two miles, let alone six. I could have her ride a bike next to me... yeah, that would work, he decided. Yank her out of bed, subject her to the stirring, cold air of very early morning.

He was smiling when his intercom buzzed. "Yes?"

"Deputy AD Jennings to see you, sir," Kimberly announced.

11:02.a.m.

Walt sat in a leather chair in McIntire's office, watching as the man read over Jennings' resignation. "Well, I can't say I'm surprised. He's been walking around the halls with a hangdog expression for months now. And I understand his wife has pretty much hated DC from the get-go," McIntire commented as he handed the letter back to Walt. "Do you have a recommendation to fill the vacancy?"

"Rosalind Drayton," Walt answered with no hesitation.

"Service record?" McIntire repositioned his glasses on the desk.

Walt repeated it from memory. "You must have met her at that conference in September."

A faint smile crossed McIntire's face. "Yes, I met Roz in Paris. We also overlapped my last few years as ADIC in New York... Tall, leggy blonde... a veritable hellcat in heels. And you never heard me say that. Are you sure?"

"Roz Drayton is tough, open-minded and impenetrable to corruption. I'd stake my reputation on it."

"I agree with your assessment. I just wish it were that simple to be sure of the newer agents. It's getting harder and harder to spot..."

McIntire stopped as they both thought of Clare. He cleared his throat. "Well, go ahead and offer the position to Drayton."

Walt had one more thing on his mind. "If I may, sir, I'd like to see if I can shift the SAC in Albuquerque. Let Jennings finish out his career there instead of resigning outright."

"If you're sure, I trust your judgment. Name?"

"Wisniewski, William."

"I'll have my assistant fill out the necessary paperwork for his personnel file and you can take it along to Holly." He folded his hands together and smiled conspiratorially. "Now, who do you think is the best candidate for Director?"

12:05p.m.

Walt sat in his office, reading over Wisniewski's file, absently rubbing his index finger over his lips. A solid career, he thought, two commendations, nothing particularly strong in the way of a reprimand. Although Walt swore there had been an incident some 15 or more years ago, the particulars of which were on the fringe of his mind. The intercom buzzed again.

"Yes?"

"I have Legat Drayton on the line, sir," Kimberly informed him.

"Thank you." He picked up the phone and pressed the flashing button. "Roz, nice job with the jewelry ring, no pun intended."

"You're wasting Bureau resources to call about that?" she teased him, her voice sultry. "So why are you really calling?"

Walt smiled warmly. "Can't a friend call without an ulterior motive?"

"I just talked to you a few weeks ago. Being in love must be softening the brain cells, cheri -- in this business, one *always* assumes an ulterior motive. So what's up?"

He swiveled in his chair and gazed at a new picture on the credenza. "Care to transfer back to the States?"

He could almost see the smile on her face. "Why? Am I being considered for the director's job?"

"More like deputy AD, in my division."

"So I'd be working under you again, huh?" Roz managed to put just a tad of suggestion in her double entendre. "How soon?"

"Pretty much immediately, but I suppose the first of the year will do."

"Tempting. A chance to break into the old boy network when you get promoted."

"What old boy network?" he retorted. "There are high-ranking women in HQ. There's--"

"Never mind. So what's the deal with... Jennings?"

"Good memory. Health-related transfer," he succinctly replied. "I don't suppose you could use a SAC over there?" He immediately winced at his own, unintentional double entendre.

Roz nearly purred her response. "Does this person have at least a passable tongue in French?"

Walt swallowed carefully as he looked at the file again. "The only language I see in Wisniewski's file is Spanish."

She sighed. "Just as well, my deputy will be chomping at the bit to replace me... and there are at least four capable people to replace *her.* "

"Then you're accepting..."

"I guess I am. Get all the paperwork rolling. When's the Christmas shindig?"

"The 19th."

"Can't get there in time for that... just as well, I hear it's generally too staid for my tastes. Have to settle for the New Year's Eve bash. Got just the dress for it, too... nice little glittery black thing."

Walt could just imagine -- Roz's idea of 'little' generally came under the heading of backless, short and showing off a lot of cleavage. Sort of like Clare's little red dress, he absently thought.

"So did you break out the bankroll for Allison's dresses?"

"She's making something for the first party and has to work during the second."

"Are you sure she's *real,* Walt? Career, kids, homemaker... sounds like a Stepford wife to me. So what's this dress look like? I don't know why I'm asking *you,* come to think of it."

He explained the bet and asked for advice.

"Let's see, if I remember your description properly, you said she's my height, solid, good but not athletic legs... and hooters the size of the Alps."

He sputtered. "I'm quite sure I *never* said that, Roz."

She sighed. " I believe you said voluptuous and that was only after I'd twisted your arm. At any rate, if *I* had her coloring and build, I'd wear something moderately decollate, maybe off the shoulder, reasonably form-fitting, long with a healthy slit, possibly in red or teal. Mind, I don't know how extroverted she is."

"Yeah, yeah. You pretty much described the dress I bought her in July."

"Must be those great minds." She paused. "Did you say Wisniewski before? Bill Wisniewski?"

"Yes. Why? Do you know him?"

"Cheri, I *know* a zillion people. Don't you remember when we temporarily misplaced that file during the White case I said maybe it'd done a 'Wiz'? I told you about that minor fracas about him and some missing evidence back when I was assigned to the New York City office."

Walt's eyes screwed up in recall. "Right. You said the whole thing had straightened itself out, but the evidence turned out worthless."

"Oui, it happens. Well, I'd love to chat some more, but you're making me late for dinner with the Swiss ambassador."

Walt shook his head. "Are you so sure you're willing to give up the jetset life over there?"

"Last time I checked, DC had plenty of embassies and three airports in the vicinity. Adieu, cheri."

8:15p.m.

Walt wandered into the basement to take care of the ever-increasing pile of laundry. He swore each child must be wearing three outfits a day, the way it stacked up... of course, he and Allison tended to go through several changes themselves.

Walt started two loads and his mind drifted back to the rest of his meeting with McIntire. How the director had 'requested' straight-from-the-hip opinions about his co-workers. Walt was still reeling from McIntire's admission of the need to keep the X-Files open and for him to stay right where he was in order to safeguard the integrity of the unit.

Walt felt a measure of pride that McIntire had disclosed his own personal choice for the director's position -- namely, him. He shook his head, recalling how McIntire had recited his service record then listed his cases of exceptional note. Then Walt frowned, briefly remembering the last case and the monstrous sexual predator he'd helped put away.

His eyes wandered over to the shelf unit across from him and his mind recollected the numerous conspiracy inferences McIntire had made -- it would be so easy to check it out. Walt felt that familiar debate start within him, remembering Clare's disk -- should he look at it or not? He'd considered doing so on and off for the past year... and after his conversation with McIntire, felt more drawn to doing it. Except the old argument for letting it be was still relevant -- what could be done with the information that wouldn't result in harm to Anthony, and now to the rest of his family?

He didn't know how the files were arranged, only that no security measures had been employed to scramble the information. That would have been pointless -- the contents were meant to be read, but only in an emergency.

Walt had often wondered if he *did* try to access the disk, if Clare's spirit would try to stop him. He tended to doubt it, since if she were really watching over them, she'd be aware of his possession of it and would have somehow destroyed it. 'Course, how much credit could one give to a ghost, anyway?

His eyes focused on the location of the safe again. It was actually original to the house. The architect had apparently envisioned it as a space to stash rare bottles of wine that his client was afraid would be pinched. The best thing about it, as far as Walt was concerned, was that it didn't appear on the blueprints.

It had been accidentally discovered during the renovation -- empty but for dust on the rack -- and Allison's brother had had to drill out the lock, replacing the whole mechanism with a modern electronic one. There was enough battery back-up to keep the lock in operation through a 72-hour power outage, and Walt had whole-heartedly approved.

The safe was behind the built-in shelving unit that served as additional pantry space, and the 'seams' of the falsefront blended with the wall panels. The space itself was 32 cubic feet, fireproof and accessible via a 10-digit code. Allison and Basil had used the area to store negatives, old photos, original homemade videos, important/legal papers. Walt used it for much the same, plus Clare's disk and other important items.

Walt was roused from his musings by numerous voices yelling from the first floor, begging for ice cream. He walked out of the laundry room and mounted the stairs, shaking his head, clearing his mind of conspiracy as he thought it could be 20 below and the kids would still be yelling for their frosty treat.

"Come on, Dad," Anthony urged as he grabbed his hand to pull his father into the kitchen. "There's a commercial right now."

"Well, it's either the show or the ice cream." Visions of the mess all over the cushions last time played through Walt's mind, as did echoes of the tongue-lashing *he'd* received from Allison. "I'm not having what happened before happen again."

"Pwweeeaaassse, Uncle Walt?" Amelia gave it a heck of a run, batting her eyelashes for good measure. "We promise to be careful."

Walt refused to give in. "And I've heard that before, too."

"But we won't let Tabitha and Buster jump up this time," Charlee added, casting a half-strength beam on him. Ian came over, wrapped his arms around Walt's legs, leaned his head back to look up and beamed at him.

Walt felt his resolve failing, again -- the kids knew he was a soft touch. "Why should I let you have ice cream in the first place? You're all due to go to bed in the next hour." Five pairs of eyes looked at him beseechingly. "How about some popcorn instead?"

"Can we have the cheese kind?" Trevor asked with the hint of a gleam.

Walt narrowed his eyes and gazed at each child in turn... so much for not thinking of 'conspiracies.'"You sneaky bunch of connivers! You never wanted the ice cream." They all grinned sheepishly. "Get out of here," Walt good-naturedly growled. "I'll toss a coupla bags in the microwave." The kids scampered back to the TV as Walt nuked the bags and poured the contents into two bowls before carrying them out.

When he'd left them before, they'd been sprawled all over the three sofas. This time, they were cozily together on the center one. They all straightened up smartly when the popcorn arrived and were busily chomping away by the time Walt left them again. He retrieved the bowl of ice cream he'd procured for himself and wandered into the dining room. Allison had left the spoils of her fabric shopping on the table and he looked through it with interest. He wasn't surprised there was no pattern for an adult-sized dress, nor seemingly enough fabric for one.

The table was adorned with the makings of dresses for the girls and a Christmas outfit for Ian, plus numerous items for the fourth-grade Christmas pageant. Both boys were looking forward to their roles -- they were portraying two of the three wise men, Gaspar and Melchoir. Allison had made softly colored robes for them, Balthazar, Mary and Joseph -- all that those for the wisemen needed were their gold accent. Charlee's class was singing a medley of five Christmas carols and Amelia's class was reciting 'Twas The Night Before Christmas.'

Every now and then, it seemed impossible to him that he could have gone from childless widower to married and the father of five in almost a year. Well, okay, so he and Allison weren't married yet -- they'd settled on November 8.

Allison had said she'd be happy in jeans in the backyard with a bunch of wildflowers and Walt had laughed dutifully, assuming she was kidding, until she'd arched an eyebrow. Then he'd choked and explained that he really wanted a traditional wedding, with all the bells and whistles. She'd started to say something, swallowed and finally told him to hold the cost down.

Walt finished his ice cream and was about to take the bowl back to the kitchen when he was caught red-handed by Charlee as she carried the similarly empty popcorn bowls. She flashed her smile at full wattage at the almost embarrassed expression on his face and made a little 'my lips are sealed' gesture before taking his hand and accompanying him to the kitchen.

Saturday, December 6, 1997, 9:15a.m.

"You booked where?" Allison's eyes were wide as saucers as she bent to pick up the washcloth she'd just dropped. Walt grinned and wished he was standing on the other side of her to watch her straighten up. He repeated his words and she began to systematically beat him with the washcloth -- and considering they were both in the shower stall and appropriately dressed, in more interesting places than she normally would have. "Have you gone *nuts*? That'll cost at least a $100 a person for the reception."

He divested her of the cloth. "In that general vicinity anyway. And it fits my budget."

With a sinking feeling, she asked what his budget was and then informed him her first wedding *and* honeymoon had cost a third of that. They argued about the costs a few minutes longer before Allison segued.

"What's left for the honeymoon, a trip around the world?" she snidely muttered.

He smiled angelically. "I was thinking of two weeks in Europe -- Paris, Milan, Venice, Madrid."

The thought, and hope, that he was kidding entered her mind. "Are you pulling my chain about all this?"

Walt enclosed in his arms. "Maybe about two cities in Italy."

She smiled back and steered him to the shower door, pausing to open it. "Then I have only one thing to say right now." She pushed him through the door. "Find yourself another fiancee!"

And then she slammed the door shut.

He stood there, dripping and dumbfounded. "Allison..."

"Save it," she yelled over the water. "I'm not speaking to you until you get some common sense."

Walt absently dried himself off, pursing his lips. He recognized a stalemate when he saw one. This had all the makings of being worse than their disagreement in July, he thought, absently moving to the sink to shave. And just like before, it was over money.

In an effort to supplement her single parent income, Allison had agreed to work 12 hours a week at a psych/chemical dependency hospital in the area, a move that had irritated Walt; it wasn't as though she were lacking in things to do. With a tremendous amount of persuasion, he'd eventually gotten her to accept money from him as a loan. They'd even signed a promissory note at her insistence. They'd 'renegotiated' in October, after Basil had been unable to start making child support payments on time, and had torn up the note entirely the same day she'd agreed to marry him.

He put the razor down after he'd nicked himself a second time and leaned against the vanity. He couldn't believe she was prepared to be so pig-headed... well, yes, he could. But why couldn't she see he wanted everything to be perfect and beautiful and memorable for their wedding?

Meanwhile, Allison stood under the water, still seething. What the hell was the matter with him? Why did he feel the need to flaunt his money all over the place?"First off, the European honeymoon goes," she muttered and squeezed out far more conditioner than she needed.

Thinking of his choice of such a posh hotel and restaurant had her fuming again. She'd have been less surprised if he'd chosen a church for the ceremony.

Why couldn't he be like any other normal male and leave all the planning to *her*?

12:45p.m.

Allison gathered up the soiled placemats and walked them over to the laundry chute. She heard Ian jabbering as he woke up from his nap earlier than usual and was about to get him when Walt walked out of the family room bent on the same task. He gazed at her briefly and she turned her head away, biting her lip. Walt hung his head and went up the stairs.

"Mommy?" Amelia tugged on Allison's hand. "Why are you and Uncle Walt mad?"

Allison peered into the serious eyes of her younger daughter and gently cupped her chin. "We had a disagreement, sweetie."

"About us?" Her eyes grew wider.

"No, about the wedding." Allison's voice was like silk as she tried to placate Amelia's concerns.

"Oh." She looked at the floor briefly. "You can get married earlier. I don't mind if it's before my birfday. I don't need lotsa 'tention."

Allison smiled as she squatted to pull Amelia into a hug, smoothing her hair. "Thank you, sweetie. Uncle Walt and I will work out our differences without changing the wedding date." Amelia pulled back and Allison lightly touched the tip of her nose. "But it was very generous and grown-up of you to offer."

Tabitha came running out of the family room in hot pursuit of Buster, for once, and the two ran into the kitchen. Charlee emerged right after them and Amelia charged into the foray as well.

Allison stood up, shaking her head and announced to the masses that she was going to the basement to process more laundry.

Walt went into Ian's room and found him sitting in a corner of his crib, a Curious George stuffed toy balanced on his lap. The 'two' seemed engrossed in a serious conversation punctuated with a few 'gobbins,' some 'ba ba, ba bas' and the odd 'guy ge ge.' Walt noticed an appreciable wet spot further up the sheet and didn't need to sniff the air to discover that that wasn't all Ian had done. "You *reek,* fella," Walt announced while scooping Ian and George up.

Ian smiled happily and tossed out a few 'dadas' on his way to the changing table. Walt removed George from his grasp, noticing *it* smelled as well and put it on the floor. Ian reacted by squirming, squealing and rolling. "You'll get him back in a bit," Walt replied, stripping off pants amid the movement of busy legs and opening the diaper.

A few moments later, freshly cleaned and wearing new pants, Ian was placed on the floor, where he immediately went for George. "Ut, uh, buddy. He's got to be washed."

Ian proceeded to stage a small fit as Walt took his friend away and stripped off the bedding. The fit was nothing compared to the one a few moments later when Walt dropped George and bedding down the laundry chute. Ian stared at him with enormous, tear-laden eyes, blinked twice and fell to the floor, wailing for all he was worth.

Walt stood by and as patiently as he could, watched the tantrum play out. Allison wasn't taken in by these bursts of emotion and would calmly walk away, within view, until it was over. He still had trouble not giving in.

Allison saw the objects hit the floor out of the corner of her eye and sighed as she saw George. "Ian will be throwing a fit," she predicted and sorted the new items after moving the over-sized bin back under the laundry chute ramp. She continued folding and soon heard adult-sized feet on the stairs. Allison took a deep breath.

Walt appeared in the doorway, wetting his lips and unsure what to do with his hands. "I, uh, know you've got to get ready for work fairly soon, but could we at least confirm that we *still are* getting married?"

Allison looked over to him and pursed her lips. "I'm still in favor of marriage, just not of spending that much money for the whole shooting match."

Walt laced his fingers around hers. "So how much are you willing to spend?"

She turned her head away. "Talk about a loaded question! I simply think leaning toward understated is better than overkill."

"Like?"

Allison angled her head back. "Like I've seen parts of Europe and it's wonderful, but I can't take two weeks off, more like one. I only get three weeks of vacation and with the scheduled trips to London, Boston and Detroit, I won't have enough."

"We can do Europe in a week."

"Losing a day each way for travel and rushing from city to city? Why don't we just save that for our 10th anniversary and go to your cottage for the week?" During their July argument, Allison had learned that Walt was a multiple property owner.

He gazed at her in embarrassment and exasperation. "Allison, the cottage is rather, uh, rustic. There's no shower -- or sink, for that matter -- in the bath, the old clawfoot tub cools off hot water in an instant, the hot water heater barely works as it is and the only electricity is courtesy of a generator. That's why I got it so cheap."

"And Anthony loved it... So why haven't you updated?"

"Well, I kind of like the roughing-it aspect, but as a honeymoon retreat it falls short."

"So we'll heat up extra buckets of water and take our baths together. And I'll get to see you in action with a real working fireplace. Sounds cozy to me."

He shook his head in resignation, but also with a hidden pleasure. "All right, you win. What else?"

She wriggled her nose. "We don't need limos." He started to object. "I'm sure the hotel will provide us with rooms to dress. And speaking of dress -- " Walt rolled his eyes as she endeavored to cut his plans to ribbons.

Several hard fought minutes of negotiation later, they'd made up, though.

"Mmm," she moaned as his lips reluctantly left hers. "Tesoro?" He murmured a grunt in reply as his lips slid down her throat and neck. "This is just a suggestion, and I know it's not super, super close, but would you consider moving the ceremony and reception to Quantico?"

Walt pulled back slowly, loving warmth radiating from his eyes. "Preparations with the annual Veterans' Day ceremony would play havoc with trying to hold a wedding. But I'm very pleased that you'd consider getting married at a Marine Corps installation."

Sunday, December 7, 1997, 12:34a.m.

Allison walked along the hall toward the stairs, unconsciously rubbing the nearly constant dull throb in her back. She stopped, sniffing the air. What was that? It almost smelled like pine, but that couldn't be right. She followed the scent to the drawing room and went in.

Her breath caught as she beheld the awe-inspiring tree standing in front of the windows. Allison was barely able to squeeze behind it, even with the furniture rearranged. Illumination from the street lights caught the branches and danced in reflection. This was no Charlie Brown tree... and when had she agreed to or had they even discussed the possibility of a real tree? Basil's allergies will be going full force if this thing stays, she thought.

She mounted the stairs with growing annoyance. Why did Walt do that... he definitely should have checked with me first. We just got one issue resolved and now he's gone off and... and become a typical insensitive, unthinking male, she finished.

Allison completed the check on the children and came to her own closed door. She hadn't noticed the stuffed elephant sitting in front of it till now. As she bent to retrieve it, her back protesting, she saw light seeping out from the room. A dozen different comments were ready on her lips as she opened the door... but none of them made it out.

"I know, I'm sorry, go ahead and say it. I shouldn't have bought the tree."

Allison's lips twitched. "No, you shouldn't."

Walt smiled, satisfied that he'd averted a lecture, and patted the bed for her to join him. Which she did, warily. "Let me tell you what happened. The kids were bouncing off the walls by three and driving each other crazy -- I broke up four skirmishes in 15 minutes. I went to shift the last load of laundry, with Ian hot on my heels. I was reaching into the washer when I saw him trying to climb into the dryer after George. When I pulled him out, he howled and all but bit my finger. At the same time, I heard yelling upstairs and decided I'd better get them all out of the house before they killed each other."

He paused for breath and to smile at Allison's growing grin of amusement. The kids were generally well-behaved, but sometimes they acted like candidates for Ritalin. "We'd only been in the van a few minutes when we passed that tree place by the gas station. They started whining for a real tree and I figured it wouldn't hurt to let them burn off some energy running around. And then I'd play Mr. Mean and tell them no."

"And instead, they talked you into the tree."

"God help us if they ever use their powers of persuasion for evil."

She rolled her eyes. " *You* are the softest touch I've ever seen."

"Yeah, well. I tried to talk them into a little one, but they kept choosing bigger and bigger ones till we ended up with that Berkshire Pine." He leaned forward and tugged on the ears of the stuffed elephant she'd placed on the bed.

She stood up, shedding her skirt on her way to the bathroom. "Was that meant as some sort of peace offering? Where'd you get it? It looks vaguely familiar."

"Chuck E. Cheese."

Allison's eyes grew huge. He got out of bed to follow her, dressed only in sweat shorts. "It takes 1,200 tickets for that size toy. And what were you doing there? That must be close to the last place you'd go by choice."

"Oh, I don't know. Once you get past the throngs of children careening into you, it's not so bad."

"It must have cost you a fortune to buy all those tokens."

"Actually, we got 20 with our food and the, uh, management gave me a 100 free." Allison cocked her head to the side, urging his 'reflection' to explain with the slant of her eyebrows while his nimble fingers were in the process of unfastening the buttons to her cardigan. "Two drunk patrons got out of hand and I, uh, subdued them." Walt efficiently got the sweater off while she was spitting out toothpaste. "At any rate, that's how I earned all those tokens." He started on her pantyhose and slip as she turned the hot-water spigot and grabbed a washcloth.

She slid the soapy cloth over her face and then half swallowed a groan as his warm, strong hands caressed her thighs on the way back up. "Not to change the subject or anything, but are we going to complete the terms of our bet?"

He smiled superciliously as his new target became the hook on her bra. "Trust me, I haven't forgotten. When I win, you're going to have to accompany me on an early morning run."

Allison wrinkled her nose at the thought before rinsing off her face. "When *I* win, you're going to have to sing to me."

Walt's eyes narrowed and he temporarily halted the motion of his hands. "I don't sing, remember?" She calmly held his gaze in the mirror. "You're evil. Do I at least get to pick the song... in the unlikely event that I lose?"

"Sure, but it has to be a legitimate song, no jingles."

He leaned further forward, wrapping his arms around her and leaning more of his weight against her back. She grimaced as a spasm of pain shot up it at the same time. "What's wrong?" he asked, quickly straightening up and turning her around. "Is it just my imagination, or are your backaches getting more severe and more frequent?" Visions of Clare and the pain in her last days temporarily clouded his mind.

Allison moved past him to dry her face. "No, it's not your imagination. They're not quite as bad as they were before I lost those 15 pounds, but..." she finished with a shrug.

"Can't something be done?"

Allison gazed at the loving concern on his face and stroked his cheek. "Elective surgery would very likely be helpful, but I don't know that you'd like it."

Walt looked puzzled. "Why wouldn't I like it? Would you be in a back brace or cast for months?"

She shook her head. "Not back surgery, tesoro, breast reduction."

They moved back to the bedroom and Allison stripped off her turtleneck and bra, unconsciously placing her right arm under her breasts in a supportive gesture. Walt came up behind her, folding his arms around her body before proceeding to trail his fingers lightly over the flesh, gently teasing the nipples to hardness. "So you're telling me the weight of large breasts can cause back problems?"

"Where have you been?" she murmured, leaning further against him before pulling away and climbing into bed.

He smirked back at the grin on her face. "Not my field of expertise. Roll over." With a sigh, she did and his wondrous palms and fingers went to work on her sore muscles. "So what all is involved in this surgery?"

Allison explained the whys and wherefores involved in the procedure. Walt moved off her and grinned. "So this means you'd be able to wear front-hook bras?"

She smacked him with a pillow. "Good God, you would think of that."

Walt rolled completely onto his back and pulled her on top of him. "Yup. The only real question is when do you want to do this? Won't you have to miss work?"

"Yup," she mimicked back, "a full week."

Walt's hands trailed back to her face and he pulled her toward him for a slow, sweet kiss. "So we'll take a day from each trip and the honeymoon. I'd much rather have you happy and healthy than moaning and groaning."

She looked into his flashing eyes and felt her arousal go up another notch. "Oh, I don't know, depends on the type of moaning and groaning..."

A while later they lay snuggled happily and sated in each other's arms. For all their suggestive comments, they'd settled into a several-times-a-week routine. They hadn't made love more than once at a time since that day in his office, and while he didn't feel deprived at their frequency, Walt would have been happier being more active. How to convey that without sounding like a fiend was a problem, though.

"Carissima?"

Her muffled and sleepy 'Mm?' made him decide to wait on this discussion. "Nothing," he replied, and turned the lamp off.

Allison's eyes opened reluctantly. She knew that tone -- that hesitant 'I'll put your needs ahead of mine' tone. She sat up, reaching across him to turn the lamp back on. "What?" she softly asked.

"It isn't important... we can talk about it later." And off went the light again.

A few seconds later, it was back on. Walt looked at her in exasperation, an expression pretty much mirrored in her eyes. "You expect me to go to sleep knowing you've got something on your mind?"

"You fell asleep quite easily when I tried to propose."

She narrowed her eyes and left the bed in search of a shirt. Upon returning, she fixed him with a glare. "I was far more out of it that night *and* I had no idea you were going to ask something so important. Now are you going to tell me what's bothering you or do I have to play 20 questions?"

He squirmed uncomfortably, the atmosphere around them no longer particularly conducive to the topic. After taking a deep breath, he resigned himself to getting it over with. "I was going to ask you if you're happy and/or satisfied with our lovemaking."

Allison arched her eyebrows, shook her head once and looked him dead in the eye. "Yes." Then she reached across him and turned the light back out.

Walt lay there, definitely feeling as though he missed something. His hand reached for the light again. She blinked as the brightness played against her face. "Now what?"

"That wasn't a one-word reply type of question," he hedged.

"No, it's the type of question that generally means the asker has the misgivings. So do you?"

His features knotted in a frown as she turned the tables on him. "No, I'm quite happy with our lovemaking."

She grumbled under her breath as she reached for the light once more. "Fine. End of discussion."

When Walt inevitably turned it back on, she rolled back to her side of the bed groaning and pulled the covers over her head. "Allison, we're not finished."

"Oh, for crying out loud," she muttered, tossing the covers away. "Ask the bloody question that's really bothering you so I can go to sleep."

He sat up, adjusting the pillow. "I don't have a specific question." She glared at him again as she rolled to her side and propped her head on her hand. Walt felt distinctly uneasy and had a sudden rush of sympathy for the subordinates on whom he regularly fixed that same look. "Oh, all right. Are you happy with the frequency with which we make love?"

Oh, shit, she thought. "Are you referring to number of times a week, mornings, afternoons, evenings or multiple times at a crack?" She wished her voice hadn't been quite so annoyed.

Walt winced at her tone and wished he'd never opened his mouth. He swallowed dryly. "All of the above."

Allison eased herself to a sitting position and moved the pillow behind her, gearing up to find out how much more often he 'needed' it to be happy. "How often did you and Clare make love a week?" Walt sputtered, taken off guard again. "Or any other woman you've had a long-term relationship with."

He coughed with discomfiture and reluctantly replied, "Uh, 10 or 12 times, sometimes more, sometimes less."

Allison partly snorted at his answer -- why are guys so hung up on sex, she thought.

Walt decided to go for broke. "What about you and Basil?"

She peered sideways through her hair, "Twice that. Look, our schedules don't exactly coincide--"

Walt's eyes bulged. "Whoa, back up. Twice? That's, that's three, four times a day. When the hell did the two of you have time? I know you said he had a compulsion for sex, but... but *shit.* " He suddenly felt inadequate.

Allison took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "Basil was small, had an alarmingly quick recovery rate, took all of 60 seconds to please himself and had a big appetite." Walt's mouth was dry; he knew he wasn't capable of *that* sort of frequency. "He kissed better when he was drunk, too," she continued, eyes unfocused as she thought back. "Um, and if he didn't give utterly fantastic massages as foreplay, I wouldn't have put up with it."

Walt still looked shell-shocked and was mumbling 'three, four.'"For God's sake, Walt, remember 'more often' doesn't mean 'better.' I can't believe I'm saying this... but... Basil tended to produce, uh, also-ran type orgasms," when he managed to get me off at all, she added to herself. "You know, enough release to let you know something happened, not enough to write home about."

Oh jeez, he thought, at least I'm doing a better job at that. I mean I think I am... God, I hope I am. "Um, just, uh, how would you, uh, rate me?"

Her eyes held a glowing quality before she looked down. "Forget writing home." He swallowed the enormous lump in his throat and couldn't believe he'd misjudged her pleasure that badly. So she wasn't out-and-out faking, just 'overacting.'

He barely heard her as she spoke again. "My hand would be shaking too much for the words to be legible." Walt's head snapped back up as the smile widened across his face. "You weren't sure?" she asked in astonishment. "From the man who knew I was faking, you weren't sure of the power of the orgasms you generate?"

His smile became boyishly sheepish. "Guilty."

Allison reached across him again. "Well, now you know for sure." Darkness enveloped them once more. "So go to sleep."

She rested her head comfortably against his firm chest. "How would you rate them on a scale of one to 10?"

She lifted her head up, mumbling various profanities and with a mighty shove, pushed him out of the bed. A pillow hit him squarely in the face seconds later. He reached for his glasses on the nightstand before lighting up the room again.

"So help me God, Walter Sergei Skinner, you ask another question and I'm booting your fine ass out of this room."

He gazed up at the fire in her eyes as the color deepened to a smoky teal. She turned her back abruptly to him and covered her head with the other pillow to block out the light. Walt slowly got off the floor, rubbing his 'fine ass' gingerly, wishing he'd put the sweat shorts back on before this. He found them half under the bed and did just that before carefully climbing back into bed and killing the illumination another time.

Walt took off his glasses, laying them on the nightstand while muttering to himself. Brilliant, didn't get the answer to my question *and* managed to antagonize her at the same time -- nice going, Skinner, he thought. He also thought how sexy she looked with her eyes that shade, her hair disheveled and puffed up, her breasts pressing tightly against the fabric of his shirt.

He felt 'old faithful' coming back to life and instantly wished that phrase hadn't entered his mind -- it was something a former lover had dubbed his penis and he'd hated it. She's the last person I need to be thinking about now, he told himself... but wouldn't she and Basil have made a pair, both with those tremendous appetites?

He rolled to his side and cautiously stretched his left foot to Allison's calf, slowly stroking the silky smooth skin with the ball of his foot. He waited what seemed like an eternity for her to tell him to knock it off, but the words weren't forthcoming. Encouraged, he painstakingly inched closer till he was rubbing her legs with his shin. Eventually, Walt bent his knee and teased the back of hers before moving higher against the softness of her relaxed thighs.

Allison bit her lip over and over, starting to tell him to go away at least a dozen times, and enjoying the sensations too much to let the words out. He was right against her now, wrapping his beautiful body around her. She felt one hand snake under the shirt, extend over her abdomen and then soft fingertips playing with her navel. Her body reacted before she even had a chance to try to stop it, arching slightly but perceptibly. She heard Walt's half-chuckle, half-murmur of satisfaction and decided she had to say something... or do something.

She pressed her still-bare buttocks more firmly against him, noting his full erection through the shorts. She was about to move her left arm from its position over the pillow when she felt Walt move away from her. Stifling a moan of disappointment, she tossed the pillow aside and then jumped as she felt his lips and tongue at the base of her spine.

Allison barely reached out far enough to hit the lights again. She tried to roll onto her stomach, but he restrained her with one powerful arm. He planted sloppy, wet kisses down onto the quickly flexed flesh of her buttocks as she gasped and relaxed again.

Then he was turning her over, onto her back, flinging the covers away, pushing her legs into a wide bent position. She stared at the dark pools of molten fire in his eyes as he lightly dragged his fingers along her inner thighs. Unable to hold the gaze, she turned away, whimpering quietly.

Somehow, the fact that he wasn't saying a single word, not even issuing 'commands,' made the whole experience more intense. Before she reopened her eyes, his mouth descended onto her navel. Allison softly moaned as she arched, turning her head from side to side as he suckled her navel and continued to stroke her thighs.

Walt couldn't believe he'd doubted, even briefly, the effect he had on her. Especially now that he heard the catches in her breath, felt the quivering/trembling sensation of her skin, listened to the whimpers coming from her mouth, remembered the fire in her luminous eyes. He moved his hands northward and began unbuttoning the shirt, determined to make this time mind-boggling for her, nonetheless.

As more of the shirt opened and fell to the side, his lips and tongue followed, nuzzling her warm, soft flesh. He grinned as he noticed her clenched fists clutching the sheets.

When he had her completely exposed, he gazed into her charged eyes. Her hands started to rise off the bed for him and he gently grasped her wrists, pinning them down as he lowered his body over her.

Allison's head dipped backward a split second after he nipped her chin and Walt felt another wave of desire course through him at her moan. Her bare throat tantalized him and he ardently lowered his mouth to the task of suckling the still faintly tanned flesh.

As continual whimpers and moans reached his ears, he trailed his lips over to her 'trick' collarbone and felt her jump. He released her wrists and felt her hands encircle his neck and the base of his head, urging him to his work.

After a while, gentle pressure from her indicated he should stop and he reluctantly did. Next, he began kissing every feature of her face with soft, gentle, warm brushes of his lips. He started at her forehead and carefully worked his way over her eyes, across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose, along her chin.

Walt felt her half-shiver, half-shudder with pleasure and slowly ran his tongue across her parted lips before kissing her properly. He spent several long moments allowing his burgeoning passion to both escape and grow as Allison responded with equal fervor.

Allison felt charged enough to be giving off sparks. Their lovemaking had so far been wonderful and consistent -- the time on his sofa notwithstanding -- but Walt seemed determined to take her to a new plain... and she was more than willing to make the trip.

She groaned when he left her mouth, arching sharply as she felt him at her breasts, oh so slowly continuing the stimulation. She imagined that time simply stood still as he 'played' between the two, causing her to writhe and moan nonstop.

Finally, she felt him moving again, bending her legs more, bracing her feet against his powerful shoulders, causing her thighs to nearly rest on her stomach. She decided not to tell him he had her nearly in the labor pushing position just before his hands slid under her bottom. Her hands clenched at the sheet as he began an assault on her most sensitive flesh. She felt the flush of heat everywhere in her body and pushed against his shoulders, causing him to grip her buttocks firmer still. Her breathing became steadily more ragged as numerous audible gasps left her lips.

And then the incredible tension burst with phenomenal force, surging through her body in several long, unbelievable waves. Every nerve ending was tingling in ecstasy. She managed not to scream only by biting into her arm and found she had difficulty convincing her hips to stop bucking. With a tremendous effort, she opened her eyes and tried to focus on his face. "Nine-point-eight," she croaked at him as her feet slid like mush from his shoulders.

He smiled, not quite understanding. "What?"

She cleared her throat and took a deep lungful of air. "You wanted me to rate you, nine-point-bloody-eight." The grin on his face threatened to split it wide open as he flopped down next to her. "I am ultimately, fantastically and most gratefully sated, tesoro. You, on the other hand, seem to be in need of some assistance."

Allison reached her hand inside the shorts and his eyes rolled to the back of his head as she slowly stroked his straining erection. He never saw the glint in her eyes as she squeezed the base hard, deflating him in seconds.

His eyes popped back open in astonishment as his gasp barely made it out of his mouth. She leaned toward him and lightly kissed his cheek. "That's better. Good night, tesoro." Then she rolled onto her side, pulled up the covers and turned out the light.

Walt lay there, temporarily unable to comprehend what had just happened. She couldn't really be denying him, could she? Was she really going to be that, well, heartless? Then he heard her chuckling into her pillow and realized he'd been had.

" *You* are truly evil," he sternly lectured as he switched the light on again, "Allison Judith Hogle Wright."

She peeked at him through both the tops of the covers and her lashes. "Even if I wanted to slowly arouse you like you did to me?"

His narrowed eyes relaxed and he replied with forced reluctance. "Well, if you have your heart *set* on it."

Allison mumbled an oath at him and pounced, tickling him like crazy. They both rolled around, fingers groping in flashes of attack before retreating to advance somewhere else. At length, Walt fell out of the bed, starting to pull Allison with him as her legs were tangled in the sheets. They stared at each other, lungs heaving, and burst into laughter. Then Allison slid the last two feet and began tickling him again. Walt called on his wrestling moves to finally quiet her, he thought, until she wiggled a hand loose and soundly goosed him.

He swore at her some more, picked her up and tossed her back onto the bed before stripping off his shorts. "So much for slow arousal," she quipped, taking in his rapidly expanding erection.

Walt climbed back onto the bed and over top Allison. "You know what they say about best-laid plans." She started to reach for him and he warily backed away at the gleam in her eyes. "On the other hand..." He flopped down next to her, on his stomach, "Arouse away."

She climbed onto him, rolling her eyes and perched herself on his firm buttocks. "So you'd prefer to make love more often, huh?" Her hands glided smoothly across his broad, muscular back and he released a contented sigh.

"Not all the time, mind you, I know with our schedules, sex isn't always feasible. Just maybe a couple more times a week."

Allison leaned down to his ear, "Spontaneity is far more gratifying than having a rigid schedule, tesoro."

He sighed again as her gifted fingers kneaded the muscles of his biceps. "Wellll, maybe we should *plan* to be more spontaneous." She rolled her eyes again and purposely dug her fingers in a little hard. "Ouch. I hate to beat a dead horse," oh great, he thought, now horses are popping up with Allison, too. "But just how *did* you and Basil manage to do it so often?"

She sighed and went back to his shoulders. "I'd say brevity, but the massages took a while. If we woke up early, we'd go once before getting out of bed in the morning, once in the shower and generally twice at night -- the second time would be more of a quickie. Sometimes in the afternoon, too, if the kids were otherwise occupied."

Walt partly sat up as her hands slid lower down his spine. " *Five* times a day?!" That's more than we're doing a week, he thought. "And what if the kids became unoccupied?"

Allison leaned forward again and planted a series of warm, wet kisses along his spine, eliciting a murmur of approval from him. "The danger factor made it more intense. Most of the time, though, once he was in, I could blink and miss the whole performance."

He settled back on the pillow with a zillion questions floating through his mind. "It hardly sounds like you got any pleasure from your, uh, encounters."

She moved her hands lower and began working on his quads, still kissing his back. "Do you want me to be brutally honest?" He nodded. "I generally didn't. The shower was my best bet."

"I can't believe he was so selfish as to ignore your needs." He felt her all but hiccup against his skin and twisted his neck to look at her. "You did tell him, didn't you?"

.".. No. The man felt terrifically inadequate because of his size -- that's part of why he wanted to make love so often. Telling him he wasn't 'setting the world on fire' would have wounded him too deeply. Besides, it wasn't like I didn't get *anything* out of it. Annnd Basil's size was a very pleasant relief. The guy before him was monstrously huge -- even in a relaxed drunken stupor with 30 minutes of foreplay, my body couldn't put up with more than thrice a week." She half winked at Walt's partially turned face. " 'Course that was before four kids. I'm sure I could accommodate him better now."

"Right," Walt snorted. "Like he's got *any* chance of having another crack at you while I'm alive." He looked her squarely in the eye. "Rate Basil."

She cocked a lopsided, hesitant smile. "You don't find anything depraved, ridiculous or perverted about this conversation?" Walt flashed an evil grin back. "Oh, all right. Strictly from an orgasmic perspective, zero to four when I was sober, seven to eight when I was drinking."

Before she could say anything else, Walt interrupted with a puzzled expression. "Why the difference?"

Allison took a deep breath and fully expected him to preen like a peacock when she explained. "I realized, shortly after I went on the wagon, that alcohol consumption significantly increased the intensity of my sexual encounters. Probably with every guy, though Basil obviously sticks in my memory more."

She watched the proud, almost-primping-of-feathers look cover his face and swallowed her amusement. "So sex with me is better than it's ever been, huh?" He settled once more on the pillow with a smug grin. "Rate me."

Allison narrowed her eyes again as she moved further down his body and began working on his calves. " *My God,* men are hung up on performance. One zero and otherwise eights and nines."

He nodded his approval. "Let me know if I slip below a seven," he countered.

She replied with mock deference, "Aye, aye, sir. And just for the record, where did/do Clare and I rate?" Allison moved back toward his buttocks, enjoying knocking him off-balance and the spread of the flush on his embarrassed skin. He stammered a few times and failed to give an answer. "Uh huh, thought so."

"No, wait a minute. It's not the same... it's always good for guys, er, I mean it was always great with Clare and of course it's great with you... and I'm going to shut up now before I can't get my foot out of my mouth."

"Wise move," she replied and bent toward kissing the base of his spine.

Walt started to ask yet another question and she bit into one cheek, causing him to shudder for several seconds. "Jeez, Allison, take it easy." He shivered as she licked at the indentations she'd left. "Now what was I about to ask? Oh, yeah -- Urrrggghhh!!"

He turned to find her licking a fresh sets of marks on his other cheek with a Cheshire Cat grin. "For God's sake, Allison, don't leave any marks." She sat on his buttocks again, rubbing herself decisively against him several times -- he shuddered again. "How deep did you bite?"

"Not that deep, you just want me to lick your wounds some more," she purred. He held his breath as she appeared to be sucking them more than licking them. "And who besides me is going to be looking at your luscious ass?"

Walt rolled himself over as she barely hiked up enough for him to complete the maneuver. "Any and all the guys using the FBI shower area."

Allison started rubbing herself over his partially erect member and smiled. "Attract a lot of attention among the men, your fine ass?"

He arched an eyebrow. "I've been approached by one or two in my time." And if you want to play games, my dear, you're in over your head, he thought.

Her movements became more insistent as she began massaging his sculpted chest. "And how did you respond?" The color of her eyes was deepening rapidly.

He sidestepped a direct answer. "Would past bisexuality bother you?"

She raised an eyebrow back. "Provided you took precautions, no. In fact," she stretched languidly on top of him, "I find the prospect very erotic."

Walt briefly saw the glow in her deep teal eyes as she closed her mouth over his and plunged her tongue inside. The kiss was supercharged with intensity. He wrapped his body tightly around her and rolled over. When he ripped his mouth away, he stared down at her, fingers interlacing with hers as he held her arms away from her body and held himself poised before her entrance. "Are you trying to tell me *you're* bisexual?"

Allison groaned as the question ended with him thrusting himself inside. Her lips curled with sly pleasure. "Why? Would past bisexuality bother you?" she parroted back to him. She bit her lip and threw her head back as he began moving at a very determined pace.

She had him and he knew it. The only way to end this charade was in a deadheat -- or was it? He was hardly going to admit to her that the whole context of the conversation had aroused him. "No, but it would open some interesting possibilities for the future." His entire expression showed him to be serious.

"Harder," she grunted at him. "I was hoping you'd feel that way, 'cause I've engineered a little surprise for your birthday. I ran into Heidi -- your former lover, remember? -- and she's very willing to partake in a menage a trois." Allison bit his chin with glowing eyes. "Or just let you be a voyeur." Walt stared at her open-mouthed and felt his climax overwhelm him.

Then he woke up with a start.

Walt sat up with sweat beading on his face and chest. He tried to turn the lamp on, but the bulb had burned out. His eyes adjusted to the darkness and he made out Allison's form, peacefully curled on her side beside him, snugly fastened back in his shirt.

He rubbed his hand across his face and tried to figure out where reality had veered away into the dream. It was sometime after she'd been massaging his back, he decided. His hand strayed down to his butt and he cringed at the soreness, wondering if she really had bit him. Then he remembered landing on it twice and hoped that was it.

Walt folded himself around her, smiling as she squirmed closer against him. He didn't want to think of the possible significance of the dream -- if indeed there even was one. One thing he did know for sure... he was never eating another piece of pizza after 10 o'clock.

8:17a.m.

Allison woke to the sounds of feet stomping in the hallway as the kids headed to the kitchen for breakfast. She rolled soundlessly past a shaft of piercing sunlight over to peer sleepily at the clock. Humph, she thought, not quite six hours. I'll be in great shape for an all-day cookie jamboree.

She sat up in wonder as she saw Walt stark naked in front of the cheval mirror. Ooh la la, she thought, pulling her knees up under her chin and absently licking her lips at the gorgeous view before her. He was totally oblivious to her stare as he kept turning his head toward the mirror and lifting his buttocks, apparently searching for something.

"What the hell are you doing?" She yawned. "Checking for brush burns or something?" He mumbled a reply and hurriedly put on some briefs and a pair of sweatpants. "Sorry? I didn't catch that."

He gazed at her with an embarrassed expression. "Looking for bite marks," he repeated in a whisper.

Allison shook her head, sure she hadn't heard that right. "Bite marks? From who or what?"

Walt sat in the wing chair to put on his socks. "From you. I, uh, dreamt you bit me and I, uh, wasn't too sure if it really happened or not." His voice was partly drowned out as he pulled a sweatshirt over his head.

She closed her eyes a few times, trying to blink away the remnants of sleep that were still there, apparently distorting the conversation -- but it didn't help. "Why would I bite your butt... at the very least hard enough to leave marks the next morning?"

He got up quickly and headed for the door, thinking if she'd been irritated about his discussion earlier in the morning, she wouldn't be at all amused by his dream. "You didn't, like I said, I dreamt it."

"Wait a minute. Is this something you'd like me to do? Dreams do allow subconscious thoughts to surface, you know."

"They don't always represent hidden fantasies."

She arched her eyebrows and exited the bed as Freudian psychology threatened to come meandering into her conscious. "I don't believe that's what I said. What else did you dream about?"

He turned and leaned against the door with a petulant look about him. "I don't remember."

Allison walked over to him and lifted his chin... her eyes narrowing as his shifted away from her gaze. "Bull."

Walt looked her in the eye, slitting his. He didn't need obstinacy first thing in the morning in his own home -- work was enough. "I don't have to tell you if I don't want to."

She smirked back him and his churlish tone. "Fine." She reached up and took him by the ear amid his many protests. "But if you're going to act like a spoiled brat, I'll treat you accordingly." He shortly found himself deposited on the bed and rubbed his pinched earlobe tenderly. "Now are you going to talk, or do I have to get rough?"

Five different smart ass retorts entered his mind simultaneously and he glared back at her as he tried to decide which to use. Then her face unexpectedly softened and he shelved all of them.

Walt related the dream, carefully keeping his eyes averted, not wanting to see her reaction until he'd gotten it all out... if even then. His face snapped up as he heard her quietly laughing and he stared in disbelief. "You're not mad that I dreamt I was aroused at the prospect of you with another woman?"

She knelt down in front of him and held his chin. "Tesoro, the majority of heterosexual men when asked will *say* that they find the idea of sex between two men repulsive while sex between two women is erotic... especially if they can watch. A double standard. Basil had that sort of dream probably once a month. He even asked me to do it once -- of course, he was drunk at the time and I chewed him out when he sobered up." She took Walt's hands in hers. "All that dream proves is you're a typical, red-blooded, sex-crazed man."

He looked into her amused eyes with relief and flippantly responded. "Gee, thanks, just what I always wanted to hear. I'd better go make breakfast for the brood before they destroy the kitchen." He leaned forward and kissed her forehead before leaving and wondered if he'd ever get a handle on what topics would or wouldn't get him into trouble with her.

Sunday, December 14, 1997, 1:37p.m.

Walt was prowling in the basement, searching for that blasted dress. He'd already checked the third-floor attic space.

All his attempts to catch her making it had failed and the children hadn't come up with any useful reconnaissance. He sat back on his heels with a smile, thinking of when he'd tried to surprise her that previous Wednesday. He'd carefully left the car in the street so she wouldn't hear it and stole as quietly as possible into the house. He'd felt triumphant when he'd heard the sewing machine and distinctly disappointed as she'd shown no consternation at his presence.

Walt had tried to cover his failed attempt by claiming that he'd come home to be 'spontaneous.' Allison had cocked her head, told him in no uncertain terms that he was a liar, but said that since he was here and Ian was asleep, why not?

He'd realized he had a traitor in his office camp when she'd hiked up her skirt with an evil grin, sat up on the table, revealed the absence of underwear and tossed him a condom. When he'd gone back to work about a half-hour later, with a prominent smile, he wasn't sure if he should classify his 'mission' as successful or not.

Back to the current situation at hand, he told his brain. He'd already checked the safe and was seriously considering opening all the boxes around him in the storage area. He combed the dining room every day and found nothing.

Walt was beginning to consider the unthinkable -- that he'd have to sing. He told himself no and pulled out the sheet she'd given him that morning. In the absence of actually finding the dress, she'd made a list of 10 criteria in reference to it and given them various values. *All* he had to do was get 18 out of 30 points to be declared a winner -- a score of 60, a 'D.'

He scanned the list, shaking his head, as he'd already spent a dizzying 10 minutes with her explaining what each term meant. Walt shuddered, thinking he'd better find it, because he had *no* chance of getting 18 points.

He took another box off the shelves and discovered a second one behind it, labeled 'costumes.' His eyes widened in interest as he opened it, noting that while the title was accurate, it was also misleading. He pulled out several skimpy outfits and had a very good idea what sort of fantasies Allison had been referring to.

He was still holding the French maid one when Allison came into the area behind him. "Is this where you got to?" He turned and felt a pang of satisfaction as a faint amount of color started rising on her cheeks. "I see you found the, uh, props."

Walt slowly stood and held the 'garment' against her while she snorted. "Looks like it fits. Care to model it?" He raised his eyebrows several times in suggestion while she narrowed her eyes.

She peered into the box and retrieved the item she wanted. "Sure," she purred, "as long as you try on the pirate costume." Allison handed him a small box that contained an eyepatch and clip-on earring.

He glanced at the box warily. "Where's the rest of it?"

Allison grabbed a belt loop on his jeans, pulled him toward her and deliberately rubbed her body against him. "There isn't any more. Question is, are you man enough to wear it?"

Her challenge was delivered with an incredibly sultry tone and Walt was considering taking her up on it when Trevor and Anthony appeared at the doorway. He quickly tossed the box back in while Allison nonchalantly took the outfit from him and also put it back. "Come on, Mom, the dress rehearsal starts in half an hour."

She turned to smile at Anthony, who had opted to call her 'Mom' all the time after his bout with the flu. "And you still don't have your coats on."

Trevor moved over to the big box and looked inside. "Whose costumes are these? I don't remember seeing them before." He pulled out a laced, red waist-cincher with a lack of comprehension. "What's this?"

Walt swallowed quickly and studiously stared at his sneakers. Allison took the item from Trevor. "Something to make my waist look smaller... it went with a frilly, white blouse and black stirrup pants."

"What were you supposed to be?" Trevor asked in confusion.

Allison glanced briefly at Walt. "A female pirate. Now move it, you two, I'll meet you and your sisters in the van."

They scampered back to the doorway. "You'll be there later, right, Dad?"

"As soon as Gramma comes over to watch Ian, Anthony." The boys nodded and took off for the stairs. Allison started to follow them, but Walt took a cue from her and latched a finger through a belt loop of her own. "I don't recall seeing the shirt or pants in that box."

"So I lied. That's all there happened to be to *my* half of that skit."

Walt let a deep groan escape at the mental image. She nipped his chin. "Maybe if you're a good boy, I'll model *that* for you later."

10 Minutes Later

Walt held a clingy Ian against his shoulder and frowned sympathetically as Ian kept issuing a pathetic cry of 'eh, hehh.' It was his first ear infection and the medicine had yet to do anything for the pain. "I know, buddy, I know," Walt softly cooed, as he stroked his head. "You'll feel better in a bit."

Teresa came through the back door a few seconds later, carrying two large shopping bags full of empty cookie tins. "I'm sorry I'm late, Walt. We had a mad rush at the bake sale and I couldn't leave on time." She put the bags down and looked sweetly at Ian. "How's my little honey feeling?"

"I just gave him the pain medicine and the antibiotic, so he should be set for a while." Teresa nodded as she rubbed Ian's back.

"Eh, hehh," Ian whimpered.

"I know, honey. Ear infections are no fun," Teresa said soothingly to him. "Want me to take him?"

Walt kissed his head. "I'll keep him till he settles down some." Teresa smiled knowingly and unloaded the bags instead.

"We could have sold three times as many of those Russian teacakes and Springerle cookies. Your mother's recipes were a colossal hit."

Walt smiled. "I somehow doubt Allison will be making the latter again any time soon, seeing as how they're so much work."

Ian started to squirm as he finally showed interest in his sippy cup of juice. Walt placed him in his highchair and put a bowl of oyster crackers down in front of him as well -- those being one of the few things Ian was currently eating while he was sick.

Walt decided to try a little 'interrogation' on Teresa in pursuit of evening the odds if he had to use the list, assuming he could catch her with her guard lowered while she fussed over Ian.

He pretended to absently put his coat on and acted as though the thought had just occurred to him. "Teresa, I know Allison's sworn you to secrecy about the dress, and I'm not asking you to break any confidences... but I'd really like to get her a piece of jewelry to complement it, and I need at least a little direction." He went out of his way to look sincere.

She smiled with compassion and 'said' she'd try to help. And five minutes later, Walt found himself on the losing end of an artfully played game of misdirection and guile.

Friday, December 19, 1997, 7:13p.m.

Walt fingered his black tie for the 10th time and glanced at his watch yet again. His stomach was grumbling with hunger and he now wished he'd listened to Allison and had something light to eat when she'd fed the kids.

Walt had spent far more of his day in distraction over the bet than he'd care to admit, even going as far as to enlist Kimberly's aid with the list. He'd turned his final 'ballot' in to Allison upon entering the house, but she still wouldn't tell him anything. She'd even relegated him to the guest room to change.

He glanced at himself in the mirror one last time, deciding that he really hated having to dress up in the 'monkey suit' and pleated shirt. But at the same time, he had to admit he looked sharp with the black and white houndstooth vest and matching handkerchief. He polished the onyx, gold and sterling cufflinks, thinking of the look on Allison's face when he'd knocked on their door to retrieve them.

She'd looked absolutely beautiful, hair swept cleanly up with a small wave over the right side of her forehead and several extra curled tendrils trailing down her neck. Her make-up had been dramatically deeper than usual, her eyes shimmering with muted colors of teal and gray highlighting them, her lips looking oh-so tantalizing in a rich plum. Even the robe had looked great on her.

Walt was startled from his thoughts as he heard the door to their room finally open and with a deep sigh, he went out to the hall. The first glance took his breath away... then his mind focused on more practical aspects -- like what he did or didn't get right.

He mentally added up the points as she partly turned and he saw the back of the dress -- he reached the conclusion that he'd earned 19 points and smiled broadly... till she walked closer to him and the light fell more accurately on the dress -- he'd gotten the color wrong.

The velvet, emerald green, floor-length gown had a boat neckline, no sleeves and fell in a relaxed a-line. The wide-open back plunged to waist level and was secured by only a single wide strip of silk with a gold knot cinching it at the center of her spine.

Once Walt got over his disappointment at losing the bet, he stared with open appreciation for several long seconds, mouth dry and heart pounding, not even minding the prospect of singing. With tingling fingers, he reached into his jacket pocket and removed a slender box.

"What's this?" Allison asked with one eyebrow askance as she took it.

He wet his lips several times and slowly walked around her, drinking in every detail as the brocaded shawl dipped down her back. "A little bauble for tonight," he huskily replied.

She felt a tingly sensation across her skin along with a warm flush at his continued stare and opened the box, gasping at the contents. "Walt! I certainly hope this is on loan from somewhere."

He took the bracelet from the box and fastened the clasp around her wrist. It was made up of dozens of marquis-cut emeralds, each held in place by what resembled the receptacle portion of a flower and separated by a gold knot. Allison shook her head at his silence. "This had to cost you a small fortune."

He finally looked into her eyes and she felt her heart jump a beat or two at his loving expression. "Almost as much as I would have spent on a gown, but I don't think I could have done as well. And, if it makes you feel better, you can count it as a Christmas present." Walt carefully pulled her into his arms and looked deeply into her eyes. "Now tell me where you hid the dress and why nobody ever saw you working on it."

Her eyes gleamed with mirth before she gently blew into his ear, sending a shudder through him. "Teresa's had it at her house ever since my mother and I finished it over Thanksgiving," she whispered.

"What? What!" he took a step back and waved his left index finger at her. "You mean to tell me I've searched, and had the kids search, all through this house and it hasn't been here since *before* we made the bet? That's dirty pool, Allison."

She took his finger and guided it to an open pleat, pushing it inside and upward till it met with her warmed, unencumbered breast. His manner changed abruptly and the rest of his fingers joined the first. Allison sighed as his digits explored. "You're not wearing a bra? Don't you need some, uh, support?" The good-natured irritation was completely absent from his tone, being replaced by a budding desire.

"Built into the gown... Mmmm... And if you keep that up much longer, we'll be late."

He reluctantly removed his fingers to gaze with longing into her smoky eyes. "Like I care after that little revelation." Allison giggled as he nipped her chin playfully and they descended the stairs. The children came running out of the family room at their footsteps, all murmuring compliments.

"Swell dress, Mum... You look very handsome, Uncle Walt... Pretty bracelet, Mommy, it matches my eyes... Every guy's going to be envious of you, Dad." Then in unison, "Did we win?"

Anthony joined in, even though he knew they hadn't. He'd found it very difficult to not access Allison's thoughts, but was proud of himself for keeping his word -- once the list had been turned in, however, he'd peeked.

" 'Fraid not, kids. I was two points short." He reached into a pocket and retrieved his wallet. "However, you all tried very hard, so I'm going to pay you anyway."

Allison arched reprimanding eyebrows at him while the children got excited as each received a fiver. They yelled out thanks and good-nights and disappeared back into the family room to contemplate what to buy with their 'booty.'

Teresa came down the hall with Ian trailing, still emitting 'eh, hehhs' for the sympathy effect while he alternately guzzled from his sippy cup.

"My God." Teresa's eyes bulged at the sight of the bracelet. "That's, uh, a lovely bracelet. What made you finally choose emeralds?"

Walt took Allison's hand and brought it to his lips for a kiss, eyes shining all the while. "I figured regardless of the dress color, it would match her ring. Which you don't seem to be wearing, carissima," he finished with a slight frown.

She smiled at him and pulled the length of a delicate gold chain out from the dress... at the end of it was the ring. "It wouldn't fit with the gloves, tesoro." Walt brightened immediately.

The ringing of the doorbell cut short any further conversation. Walt led Allison to the door with a suspicious grin. "Your chariot awaits, madam." She stared with disbelief at the chauffeur standing in the doorway and the sleek black limousine in the distance.

Midnight

Walt would have liked nothing more than to make love to Allison right in the limo as it slowly made its way back to the house. But a discreet firm or not, those sort of escapades had a tendency to leak out. He contented himself now with wrapping his arm tighter around Allison's shoulder, insinuating a few fingers past her coat and inside the open pleat, leaning his head against hers and kissing her hair.

The evening had been typical in many respects -- Edwin Balthazar had managed to irritate with his opinions and continued to treat his long-suffering wife poorly, numerous employees had stupidly made drunken spectacles of themselves, shop talk had overridden small talk, rumors had abounded about who was involved with who, Scully had ducked Agent Pendrell at every opportunity.

Walt wasn't sure which had been the bigger surprise, Roz unexpectedly turning up or Allison informing him that his new deputy AD was having an affair with Ned McIntire. Of course, she'd also informed him that Pendrell wasn't really interested in Scully, just using her as camouflage to mask his relationship with Agent Stromanagle. He wasn't so sure he believed that one, but the former...

"Why didn't you mention you'd had an affair with Roz, tesoro?"

Walt instantly winced, grimaced and felt his stomach lurch. He straightened up and put both hands in his lap. And he couldn't understand why Roz would have gone behind his back. He swallowed awkwardly and tried not to stammer. "It was a long time ago, Allison, 15 years. And we parted as firm friends. We, um, still tease each other, uh, but there's no reason for you to feel intimidated. I was going to tell you, but I wanted to wait till after the holidays..." Well, jeez, Walt, he told himself, that sounded brilliant. "I can't believe Roz spilled the beans..." Wonderful, you idiot, he silently continued, that sounded remarkably intelligent, too.

Allison placed amused fingers against his lips. "You're going to hurt yourself if you wedge any more appendages in your mouth, Walt. Roz didn't tell me anything -- verbally. I figured it out on my own after watching the two of you interact all evening." She laid her head back down on his shoulder and dropped her hand into his lap. Walt forced himself to breathe slowly and thought she was either astute as all get out and should be teaching a course in observation or that he'd become much worse at keeping his expressions/feelings guarded. "I like her, Walt. She's got a keen mind, a strong wit and a wonderful, compassionate side. And she and Ned McIntire make a stunning couple."

"That's basically what she said about you, carissima. I was fairly sure the two of you were on the road to being friends when I caught you bashing the clothes." Allison half grinned, half grimaced in memory of some of the unfortunate evening attire. "And the two of you were great at bringing Shirley Balthazar out of her shell. I don't think I've ever seen her enjoy one of these parties more."

"Yes, well, why she puts up with that unbearable jerk of a husband I'll never understand. She's so sweet and he's so boorish."

Walt started to chuckle. "I was afraid I'd have to physically restrain you when he made that crack about contractors all being crooks."

"I'd never embarrass you in front of your colleagues like that. But if I'd known which vehicle was his, I'd have been sorely tempted to let the air out of his tires... The Lathams were nice... why didn't I meet them before?"

"They were honeymooning in July. Do you really think Avery will come down for a job?"

"Depending on the size and the crew availability, he might. But if nothing else, he can give them a yardstick to measure other quotes with."

Allison yawned and snuggled her head more fully against Walt's shoulder. He went back to having his arm around her and envisioned having to wake her up when they got home. As good as she was at schmoozing, he knew it took a lot of energy when you basically didn't know anybody. It was just like her to invite the Lathams over at an undisclosed date to view her brother's work, invite Roz to spend Christmas with them, and invite Roz and McIntire over for dinner so they could 'unobtrusively' spend time together. He sighed as he wrapped his fingers around hers and thought he was incredibly lucky to have found another wonderful woman in a single lifetime.

Friday, December 26, 1997, 6:27a.m.

Walt took another deep lungful of brisk air as he continued his daily run. It was the first morning since Mary and Charles had arrived from London that they hadn't been up with him -- of course, they'd gotten back from the theater the previous night at the equivalent of 3:30a.m.

Walt's mind played over the events of the last week and he couldn't stop smiling through all of it... more so at certain parts.

Allison had woken up enough to greet him at the door -- after he'd walked Teresa home -- wearing the teal chemise and he'd happily spent a considerable amount of time doing everything he'd wanted to do in the limo. Then there had been her response to his singing -- he'd squirmed his way through a rendition of the Everly Brothers hit 'Love of my Life,' expecting her to be full of sarcastic remarks. Instead, she'd been struck by the affection in his voice and instructed him to 'take her' -- and he'd been hard-pressed to ignore the words.

Then there'd been the graduation ceremony, meeting more of her outgoing family, last-minute Christmas shopping, dinner with Roz and McIntire. Walt had been uncomfortable interacting with his boss on a purely personal basis -- the FBI-sponsored social events weren't the same -- but he'd quickly discovered that he and Ned had plenty in common and felt a strong bond of friendship forming.

Christmas Day had been a zoo with the kids -- of all ages -- scurrying from room to room showing off presents, searching for more, screeching in delight as they tore off paper, temporarily abandoning their own toys to 'borrow' someone else's that looked more interesting. Walt had later wondered if the dining room table would collapse under the weight of all the food.

Whether it was indeed the spirit of the holiday or just everyone taking their cue from Allison, Basil, his girlfriend Lois and her daughter Betsy had been welcomed with open arms. But the highlight of the holiday had come after the bulk of the family had decamped for the theater. The few who had elected to pass on a movie had been assembled to play euchre when Ian had blasted the volume on the CD player. All but Betsy had covered their ears in defense and Allison had hypothesized that instead of being mentally challenged, Betsy was actually deaf. A hypothesis that Frank Baschline had shared via phone.

Walt smiled even broader as he reached the steps of his former house, the 'sold' sign prominent in the yard. What a holiday, he thought, reflecting on the last month. The ruse Allison had pulled over on him, the warmth of being surrounded by friends and family, the 'miracle' for Betsy.

He remembered the turmoil he and Anthony had felt the previous Christmas, getting adjusted to their new life... and now they were getting ready to embark on a whole new chapter, bustling into the future with hope and happiness. Walt blinked his eyes at the brightness of the rising sun and started backed for home.