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Title: Croissant crazy –
Part Three Alex contemplated showering
with the battered prosthesis in place, then, reluctantly, unstrapped it,
hissing through clenched teeth as the rubbed flesh was exposed. The water was
beginning to steam and he finished undressing and stepped under the powerful
spray, leaning his head forward, letting the water hit the back of his neck. He could hear the television
downstairs, and Mulder and Skinner talking, although he couldn’t hear their
conversation. And, surprising himself, he realized he wasn’t trying very hard. The smell of warm croissants
drifted in from the kitchen, along with several other smells – Alex’s senses
were always strangely heightened in a situation where he wasn’t in complete
control – and he breathed deeply, letting the spray soothe taut muscles. It
surprised him how tense he still was – he had thought he was quite relaxed –
and he sighed as the water flowed over him. Fifteen minutes later… ‘Alex, what are you doing up
there?!’ Alex flinched as Walter’s
sharp voice came from downstairs and he hurriedly turned the water off and
grabbed a towel from the stack beside the shower cubicle. ‘Um…I’m done.’ Alex called
down, embarrassed at the hesitation in his voice. What are you doing? Get out of there. Alex’s inner voice made him
jump. He wasn’t used to hearing it and he shook his head. ‘Nah, it’s okay.’ Walter appeared in the
doorway. ‘Who were you talking to Alex?’ Alex blushed, thinking
quickly. ‘Um…no-one.’ Walter bent down, picking
Alex’s clothes from the tiled floor. ‘I’ll put these through the wash. Dry off
and I’ll bring you a robe.’ Alex’s
eyes widened in panic. ‘No, not my jacket!’ Walter held up the battered
black leather jacket by the collar. ‘I’ll hang it up.’ Returning, Walter handed
Alex a dazzling white toweling robe. Alex tied the belt around him, leaving the
damp towel around his waist in place. No way was he gonna give Skinner a peek
at the good stuff. ‘Thanks.’ ‘I’ve made breakfast.’ Alex frowned. ‘Didn’t we
just have…’ ‘You did. I didn’t. You ate
*my* breakfast, remember? Put the towel in the hamper.’ Walter turned, leaving
Alex to pull the damp towel from under his robe. Alex realized Walter wasn’t
too angry, and followed him downstairs. Fox was already at the kitchen table,
reading the paper. ‘My croissants, my paper, what
else would you like Fox?’ Walter growled crossly. Fox laughed at Walter’s
comment. Walter realized what he had said and sighed crossly. ‘Buy your own
paper.’ Alex sat in front of the
plate, piled with scrambled eggs, bacon and hash browns. He picked up the fork
and began to… ‘Alex! What the Hell are
you..?’ Walter looked from Alex to Fox. ‘You were just going to let him eat?’ Fox shrugged. ‘He’s got a
knife.’ Holding up Alex’s jacket,
Walter shook his head. ‘Not any more.’ Alex squirmed as he was
talked about and frowned as he realized Walter was right. He was unarmed. Literally. He had left his prosthesis in the bathroom. Walter realized what Alex
was thinking and turned back to the refrigerator, pouring himself
a glass of juice. ‘I laid some clothes out for you Alex. Get dressed and I’ll
make you some food when you come down.’ Alex walked up the stairs, his innate curiousity
peaked by the opportunity to look around Skinner’s place in daylight and
without having to be quiet and careful. A quick stop in the
bathroom, fixing his prosthesis, dropping the robe into the laundry hamper,
empty except for a damp towel – Alex guessed Walter had started his laundry
before his morning jog – walking out and along the corridor. The main bedroom was, as
expected, militarily neat and tidy, few personal items scattered around. The bed,
perfectly made, the mirrored closet doors reflecting light and giving the
illusion of a much bigger room, almost drew Alex into the room but he hovered
in the doorway, looking in, something holding him back. Alex smiled slightly as he
saw the hairbrush on the nightstand. So the retired AD still brushed his hair? Expensive
aftershave and a high-spec personal CD player jostled for space with the latest
Tom Clancy paperback and a Rolex Alex imagined wasn’t a fake. Down the corridor a little
way were two spare rooms facing each other. Both were
decorated differently, one holding Skinner’s workout gear, the other apparently
a recently-used guest room. Alex looked around for some clue as to who that
might have been but saw nothing obvious apart from the t-shirt and cut-off
denim shorts which were clearly not Walter’s cast-offs. Pulling them on, Alex
realized they were his size. For the second time, he was
interrupted. ‘Alex, how do you want your eggs?’ ‘Um…scrambled.’ Alex called down, dressing quickly, hurrying back
downstairs. As he approached the kitchen, he heard Fox’s voice: ‘I like mine
better cooked than that.’ He slowed as he heard
Walter’s sharp response: ‘Am I wearing a chef’s hat?’ ‘I was stabbed.’ Fox whined.
Alex watched from the
doorway as Skinner leaned across, putting a plate of food on the table.
‘Mulder, be quiet or leave. Let Krycek eat in peace.’ ‘Why are you taking his
side?’ Mulder pouted. Walter sighed crossly. ‘I’m
not Mulder. But he’s living on the street. Give the kid a break.’ ‘He’s up to something.’
Mulder persisted. ‘Probably.’ Skinner shrugged. ‘But I’m hungry.’ Mulder gave up, folding the
paper, getting to his feet. ‘I’ll come by tomorrow morning. If you’re lying in
a pool of blood, you’ll know I was right.’ Walter huffed. ‘If I’m lying
in a pool of blood Mulder, I’m not gonna care much who was responsible.’ Alex grabbed his jacket from
a metal hook beside the front door, and let himself out.
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