The Scarlet Butt-Scorcher
Pairing: Fox Mulder/Walter Skinner
Rating: PG, AU, Discipline, no slash
Spoilers: This story was inspired on the book "The Scarlet Pimpernel"
written by Baroness D'Orczy.
Summary: It's about a young french noble boy and his adventures with his
famous english savior Walter Skinner, the Scarlet butt-scorcher, who had a
habit of leaving a bright red bottom on french soldiers whenever he saved
one useless aristocrat during the French Revolution.
Disclaimers: Fox Mulder, Dana Scully and Walter Skinner et al do not belong
to me; they belong to Chris Carter and Fox. I mean no harm and will make no
money from their use.
Notes from the author:
Vocabulary: Mon petit : little one / Mon petit renard : my little fox
italics: for thoughts
Chapter One
The air was heavy with the scent of moist straw and horse excrement. The
foul smell seemed to impregnate everything around making the simple act of
breathing difficult. Inside the dirty, dark stable a young boy about twelve
years old held his arms tight around his skinny legs. His knees were
visible through the rags that had been his silk blue pants.
He trembled, the result of many days of insufficient clothing, shelter, and
food, but mostly love. The latter was roughly stripped from his young heart
when he saw his family, father, mother and little sister, die before his
eyes at la Place de Grèves, their heads chopped off by Madame la guillotine.
It was the year of Our Lord 1792 and France was in turmoil due to a regimen
of terror called the French Revolution. The common people had rebelled
against centuries of oppression and hardship in order to sustain a rich and
luxurious court of useless aristocrats who represented the former glory of
France, its ancient nobility. These noblemen were now considered traitors of
the new nation and were inexorably persecuted by those who had always served
them on their lands and inside their households. Every day dozens of
aristocrats, sometimes entire families, were executed to the cries of
Liberty, Fraternity and Equality that emerged from an inflamed populace.
The executions took place at the old traditional square, la Place de Grèves,
which had seen in the past countless death sentences of traitors, thieves
and witches being carried out. Nowadays in the same square stood la
guillotine, a popular and simple instrument of death created for the unique
purpose of bringing justice and extirpating France from its old flawed gems,
the traditional nobility. It stood there, a constant, proud reminder that
France now belonged to the people.
The only way the nobles had to escape such terrible fate was trying to run
away through one of the city's doors in disguise. In the evenings after the
executions ceased another spectacle took place near the doors as the Joint
of Public Salvation commanded by Citizen Spendé and his loyal pupil the
Russian called Alex Krycek. The two delighted in unmasking Counts,
Marchionesses and even Dukes, exposing them to the ridicule of the mob and,
on the day after, to the sharp blades of Madame la guillotine.
This bloody harmony was recently disrupted by the increasing number of
French nobles who managed to safely reach the coast and then England where
they took refuge, helped by a group of daring Englishmen who extracted whole
families from under the vigilant noses of the joint. Their chief, the
intrepid and legendary Scarlet Butt-Scorcher was a mysterious man who could
pretend to be anyone he deemed necessary to successfully execute his planned
escapes. Some people even said he had a pact with the Devil and used
supernatural powers. And the fact that he dared to leave a message over a
scarlet butt of some poor soldier he had spanked during one of his rescues
only contributed to his reputation. The piece of paper usually contained the
same message. "Dear Citizen Spendé today one more noble reached the safe
soil of England." The missive always finished with "the compliments of The
Scarlet Butt-Scorcher" and next to the signature was placed a small seal in
the shape of a red bare butt.
Meanwhile, in the fetid barn and apart from all those tales of fierce
persecuters and gallant heroes, the young boy could only think of his lost
family. The Muldés had been found guilty for the sin of being aristocrats,
descendants of a very noble ancient berth. Fox's father, le Comte de Muldé,
had saved his only son and heir in the last moment by pushing him out of the
oxcart that was taking them to Paris to stand a mock trial and then be
executed. The boy had tried to keep up with the cart but he had been so weak
that he had stumbled down to his knees in the middle of the road and could
only reach the city five days later. To his utter horror, he arrived at the
moment of their public execution.
"NOOOOO!"
Fox yelled in desperation throughout the eternity in which his father,
mother and beloved sister were put to death. He keened to the point of
hysterics but drew only amused chuckles from the people around him who
thought him squeamish. Nearly suffocated by the intensity of his grief and
unable to stand one moment more of the grotesque scene, the boy dashed out
of the square, toward a group of buildings that surrounded the site.
Fox was now so deeply sunk in his grief that he failed to react immediately
when a strong hand grasped his left arm. "What?"
He was pulled up from under the wooden working bench where he was hiding and
felt the glare of a lantern illuminate his face, making him blink
convulsively for a few seconds until his eyes got used to the light.
"Please don't hurt me. Please!" Fox begged as he frantically twisted trying
to free himself. He tried to kick his captor's legs but was easily deflected
and found himself crushed against hard thoracic muscles.
"Whoa my little friend. Stop! I'm not going to hurt you. Who are you?"
The voice above his head seemed pleasant without any hint of danger so Fox
stopped his futile squirming and lifted his face to look into humorous brown
eyes that observed him with sympathy and amusement.
"Come on, mon petit. I want to help you but you must tell me your name," the
tall stranger said kindly as he released his hold now that the little boy
realized he wasn't a threat anymore.
"Fox." Fox muttered still distrustfully.
"Fox? Just that?" Walter arched his eyebrows up amusedly.
Fox nodded resolutely without verbally replying and he moved his head away,
a distant look in his young eyes. I, Guillaumme de Muldé, have died
today along with my family. In my place now there's only someone that should
hide in the shadows forever.
Noticing the haunted look at the young features Walter gave up, not wanting
to press for more information. "Okay, mon petit. If you don't wish to tell
me now, sooner or later you will."
Fox gave him a very shadowed glance. Who's this man? Is it safe to tell him
the truth that I'm now the 8th Count de Muldé?
Walter could read the boy's thoughts and see the internal battle clearly.
Ah, don't be afraid, mon petit. I'm not going to harm you.
He studied the boy's face closely and sensed by looking at the tortured sad
eyes that the boy had been through a lot recently. And judging by the
remnants of his silk clothes and by his fine features the boy was
undoubtedly well-born and related to some noble family. Perhaps to someone
who died today?
Walter pitied the young boy. That would be reason enough for his previous
desperate outburst at the square. And if it turned out to be the truth, then
he was in immediate danger as the populace was hungry for more noble blood.
The man knew they would begin searching for new victims as soon as the
executions finished for the day. Besides the little one was too hurt to be
able to control his mouth and doing so, he would give himself away easily.
"Nice to meet you, Fox whatever your name is. I'm called Walter Skinner. I'm
an Englishman. Where is your family?" Walter's smile never faltered as he
continued in a friendly tone after the boy had ignored his extended hand. He
wanted to soften the boy's resolve a bit to gain his trust so he could
discover more about his true origins.
"Dead."
The single word brought a look of sheer agony to the young face and some
tears the boy wasn't able to hold back ran down his smooth cheeks. Then his
small shoulders began to shake uncontrollably.
"Now, now mon petit! Don't cry! Everything's going to be all right, you'll
see."
Walter tenderly caught the slim form into his arms in a comforting hug
pulling the boy's head to lie on one of his shoulders and let the boy cry
for a while.
Some time later a deafening sound of drums emerged nearby to a crescendo and
then became complete silence followed by a roar of triumphant shouts. The
meaning was clear. Another aristocrat had been beheaded. The young boy
cringed with fear in his arms.
"Come, it isn't safe to be here any longer."
The boy was so exhausted that he didn't offer any resistance and allowed
Walter to escort him out of the stable and into a narrow alley.
Unfortunately they met a small group of overexcited and drunk people who
promptly invited them to join in their celebration.
"Assassins!" Fox roared, a wild glint in his eyes born from the helpless
situation.
Walter quickly intervened by putting his right hand over the boy's mouth and
smiling forcibly at the little group of revolutionaries that gathered around
them, some suspicious at the boy's words.
"Dear Citizens, I beg you to forgive my son's words but he's a boy of
delicate sensibilities and was very upset by the bloody spectacle. He meant
to accuse those filthy aristocrats, didn't you, son?"
Walter made the boy nod his head in agreement without removing his hand over
his mouth.
He then quickly put on a performance, "Oh, mon Dieu! Please gentle ladies
and gentlemen let me pass, my poor boy is burning with fever and I need to
take him to the surgeon. Make way, please!"
Walter scooped Fox up into his arms so tightly that the boy could barely
breathe let alone speak. The big man rapidly walked away from the
astonished people towards his brown chestnut horse. He mounted the horse
with the boy still in his arms because he didn't dare to give him the chance
to create more havoc. Only when he was sure that they were out of danger did
he loosen the bear hug in which he held the skinny body.
It was a hot spring day and in an impulse Walter took off his light brown
wig to cool his head. Little drops of perspiration had accumulated over his
bald crown and he absently passed a hand over it to get rid of them.
Fox was furious that he had been handled so roughly by the tall stranger and
turned around from his seat in front of the man to tell him exactly what he
thought about his unusual ways of handling people when he saw Walter remove
his wig. The small bald area which didn't compromise the handsome features
of his savior immediately caught his attention and he decided in a petty
revenge to make fun of the man by pointing out to his head in a set of loud
giggles, just to annoy him.
"You don't have any hair on your head. You say that your name's Walter but
now I think I'm going to call you "baldie". It suits you better," Fox
sweetly said, finishing with an evil smile.
"Ha-ha-ha. You're such a funny little guy, mon petit. You'd better not laugh
too much because you don't know what your future will be. Maybe you'll be as
bald as I'm now and then it's going to be me who will be laughing my head
off," Walter dryly informed him.
Baldness had always been a sore point for the man and he hated when someone
reminded him of it. What seemed unimaginable was that the mockery came from
a little bit of a boy he had just saved from certain death. Ungrateful
little brat! Walter frowned at the bold boy with a dangerous look on his
face as he dismounted.
"Okay, okay baldie. It's just that it's strange to see you without any hair.
You must give me some time to get used to it," Fox said in a pacifying tone
as he saw the hard stare Walter shot him and stopped laughing for maybe
three seconds. Then with a big devilish grin Fox spoke again carefully
pronouncing the two syllables, savoring them with gusto, "Bal-die." And he
fell into another set of uncontrollable giggles.
Trying not to be too hard on the little pest because of his recent
predicament Walter swallowed his annoyance, "Let's see if we can make a
compromise here mon petit. I challenge you to a game of dice. If I win
you'll do whatever I tell you to do and be an obedient and polite boy and
never mention my baldness in front of me again."
"And if "I" win, baldie?" Fox interrupted him with sharp speculative eyes.
Ah! So you like to gamble, mon petit? But I'm afraid this time you'll be the
loser.
Walter answered the outspoken boy in an amiable voice, his annoyance
substituted by smug contentment at the little trap he was planning for him.
"Then you have my permission to call me "baldie" to your heart's content."
"Done! But you don't go crying when you lose, baldie."
"My, my what a confident little boy we have here." Walter eyed the
presumptuous young lad levelly, his voice dripping with irony.
Let's see if you'll keep that cocky attitude of yours when I defeat you, mon
petit.
Undisturbed, Fox added a little bit more of information as he jumped down
from the horse, "I've never lost a game of dice before."
He rubbed his hands together and started to flex and unflex his fingers in
anticipation, "Who will go first, me or you?"
Walter mockingly bowed to him, "Be my guest mon petit!"
It took them only five minutes to be on horseback again. Walter shook his
head in displeasure nursing a rapidly escalating headache. He had forgotten
how much he disliked smart little brats.
Damned boy! I should have sensed the game wouldn't be a good idea. Never
play with a cunning little fox because it always finds a way to elude you.
Walter gritted his teeth in frustration at the repeated sound of "baldie,
baldie, baldie" the disrespectful little brat started to sing in a
crystalline voice the moment after he had won the game. He sighed resignedly
because in truth his hands were tied. As the stupid idea had been his, it
wouldn't be good sporstmanship to knock some sense into the little brat by
beating him into submission. He could only hope by the time they reached the
inn the little pest comfortably seated in front of him tired of the annoying
litany and stopped singing it.
"I bathed myself yesterday!" Fox yelled in indignation, a pout starting to
protrude from his lower lip.
They were in the middle of the room Walter had taken in the Chat Noir, or
The Black Cat as the inn would be called in England. The establishment was
administered by a very friendly innkeeper, Monsieur Brochat who was a small
rounded man in his early fifties with the biggest belly ever seen in the
region. Alongside the friendly atmosphere the Chat Noir was only thirty
minutes on horse from Paris and had clean and comfortable accommodations.
Moreover it provided small pleasures such as big oval wooden tubs and the
best French countryside culinary specialties.
Walter ordered them both a good dinner of delectable roasted boar and a hot
bath but instead of enjoying those rare pleasures he was now dealing with a
difficult and stubborn boy.
"Mon petit, you're supposed to take a bath every day." Walter critically
analyzed the well-worn figure. Damned boy! He urgently needed a complete
bath and not only a basin washing.
"But it's not healthy. I can be sick!" Fox stomped his right foot on the
floor to show his displeasure and crossed his arms in a stubborn posture.
Rolling his eyes Walter prayed for patience at such display of ignorance,
"Nonsense! A filthy person can acquire a lot of illnesses but not a clean
one. Do you know that if you wash your hands before dressing a wound, it
won't suppurate?"
Fox still unconvinced shrugged uninterestedly, his pout becoming bigger.
Walter pressed his lips into a thin line and shot the boy a glare heavy with
irritation. We need to break you from this deplorable habit, mon petit. I
really disapprove of boys shrugging at anything especially at my patient
words of wisdom.
"Enough of your bad humour, mon petit. Stop jolting your shoulders in such
an impolite way and get into the tub. Now."
"I've already said I don't want to." Fox frowned, assuming an angry posture
even though he suppressed the shrug that was so natural to him when he was
upset or annoyed.
"Mon petit renard, undress and step into that tub right away. And don't take
too long because I don't want to bathe in cool water."
Fox chewed on his lower lip as he mentally debated if it was wise to
continue to resist his baldie's order but a better look at the angry
features promptly dissuaded him from this course of action. In ill grace he
conceded, "I'll go. But my name is FOX, okay?"
Walter only glared at him and indicated the hot steamed water filled tub
with a sharp move of his head. "Okay, FOX whatever your name is, don't
forget to wash behind and inside your ears. This way perhaps you'll listen
the first time I order you to do something and spare us the tedious
repetition."
Fox had just sat himself down into the warm water as he angrily retorted,
"Go to hell, you damned baldie!"
"Now you did it, mon petit!" Walter had had enough of the boy's tantrum. He
swiftly grasped Fox's upper arm and turned him over the edge of the wooden
tub, delivering ten hard slaps over the wet naked buttocks that immediately
glowed bright red.
"Owwww! That hurt!" Fox sobbed rubbing his burning bottom and splashing
water everywhere in the vicinity as he jerked his legs up and down to
relieve some of the sting.
Unmoved by Fox's predicament Walter bent and dropped a quick kiss on his
forehead, then grabbed him by both of his arms and placed him back carefully
into the warm water. He then washed the boy's teary face and gave him a
small washcloth. "Now finish your bath," he ordered.
"Y-yes, S-sir!" Fox hiccuped.
A few minutes later Walter selected one of his linen shirts for Fox to wear
and approached the tub, "Have you washed behind your ears?" He passed his
hand over the boy's damp hair and urged him to get out of the tub.
Fox sharply jerked his head out of Walter's reach. "I'm not a child! I'm a
man and I can take care of myself very well without your interference," Fox
said resentfully. He was feeling more courageous now that the pain in his
butt had subsided a little.
"As you were doing when we met. Dirty, famished, cold and brokenhearted.
Very good job indeed," Walter mocked him with an elevated eyebrow. He then
opened a white towel inviting the boy to come into it, "Come out and I'll
help you dry yourself."
"I don't need your help, baldie," Fox muttered in a very low voice that
fortunately didn't reach Walter's ears. Despite the silent show of rebellion
he stepped out of the tub as commanded and was standing in the middle of the
room when the door suddenly opened after a brief knock.
"Bon soir, Monsieur! I've brought you dinner as you ordered and it's a
delicious roasted boar," A young blond woman said as she came in and put the
tray on a rounded wooden table at the back of the room.
Then she turned towards Walter, "Now if you need something else?" The
opulently bosomed niece of the proprietor batted her eyelashes in a
provocative invitation to more intimate moments as she touched her two
'melons' in a false innocent gesture. Despite her well endowed figure, the
only word that could describe her was ugly. Nothing appeared to go well with
anything on her face.
Startled to be caught stark naked Fox hurriedly tried to put some clothes on
with his back turned to the door but he tripped on his gangly feet and
finished sprawled on the floor in a very undignified position over his
stomach with his still pinkish bare buttocks stuck out in the air. Fox felt
his cheeks get hot with embarrassment and hid them in his hands mortified at
hearing a fit of high-pitched female giggles that followed.
"Oh! I see that you've been busy with your little boy here, Monsieur
Dupont!" She said merrily as she glanced towards a very embarrassed Fox.
"You naughty boy! You shouldn't be giving your father so much trouble."
Walter leaned with his back against the wall and crossed his legs over his
ankles in a relaxing stance. He chuckled, highly amused at the young boy's
vexed features and waited a few seconds of pure enjoyment before coming to
his rescue.
He detached himself from the wall to smile sweetly to the young woman, "Fox
is usually a very well behaved boy but you know how boys are, don't you my
dear?"
"Oh yes, Monsieur! I have four nephews and I know exactly what you're
saying. And it's very sweet of you to take such good care of your little
boy. Nevertheless you must also take some time to enjoy yourself. There's
going to be a dancing party tonight at Perrot's farm and I wonder if you'd
like to come with me? Your boy is already a big boy and can take care of
himself this night, can't you sweetie?"
Fox rolled his eyes in exasperation at the unrefined attempt at seduction.
Then a malicious thought came to his mind. Ah, baldie you're going to learn
that revenge is a plate best served cold.
He schooled his features to a repentant expression. "Of couse, Mademoiselle!
Mon papa still feels the loss of maman very much and sometimes I wish he had
a new wife to cheer him up." Turning to Walter Fox continued, "I'm sorry for
my misbehavior, Papa! Please go with Mademoiselle! I promise you I'll eat my
dinner and then go directly to bed. Have fun, Papa. You deserve it!" he
finished dramatically with downcast eyes, the perfect image of contrition
only betrayed by the barely contained grin tugging at the corners of his
mouth.
Fox winked to Walter with a smug glint in his eyes which were bright with
unshed tears, the difference this time was that they weren't from any kind
of pain but from amusement. It's going to be funny to see you make your way
out of this mess, baldie!
Walter narrowed his eyes and stared fixedly to the impish youngster for a
few seconds before he recovered. He rewarded the ugly woman with a dazzling
smile, "I'd be delighted to accompany you to the dance tonight Mademoiselle
but I promised my deceased wife, may the Lord have mercy on her soul, to
look after our little boy and never leave him alone," he said as he made the
cross signal which was immediately copied by the young lady. Walter then
arched an eyebrow pointedly at a bemused Fox who also crossed himself and
quickly entoned in a pitiful voice, "Poor maman!"
Biting at the inside of his mouth to prevent laughing, Walter apologetically
explained he had to supervise his son's lessons because he promised "pauvre"
Marie to make a gentleman of their boy.
"But I'm certain we'll find another opportunity to be better acquainted. Now
if you'll excuse us, Mademoiselle." Taking the ugly maid by her hand Walter
guided her towards the door and opening it, he urged the girl out of their
room.
"Please, call me Cosette," she said in a low sensual tone.
"Of course Cosette," Walter smiled as he firmly closed the door.
He turned to face a hysterical laughing Fox with his hands on his hips and a
tolerant smile on his lips. "You mon petit don't know when to stop, do you?
As I feel responsible for your welfare from now on I'll take to myself the
responsibility to teach you your limits, so pay close attention to the
lessons and the learning process won't be too painful."
To be honest Walter wasn't angry but otherwise amused at the boy's little
prank and he also had to admit he was a little proud of the quick thinker
who could set a plot in such a small amount of time. Nevertheless he had to
scare the imp a bit because he would need his complete obedience to pull off
the planned rescue of the Barry family, and make sure he, the boy and they
escaped safely at the end of the week. He was certain that the boy came
from a very important family and that he must take him out of France as fast
as he could, or his young head would be hanging by a thread.
Walter walked nonchalantly to the small dressing-table near the bed and
picked up his wooden oval hairbrush. Noticing with satisfaction that the
little imp was monitoring his movements attentively, Walter smacked his left
hand with a sharp snap of his right wrist. He coldly grinned at the
uncontrollable small jump the boy made after hearing the loud smack. He sat
on the edge of the bed and crooked a finger at the boy indicating his lap.
Shaking his head, Fox protectively grabbed his bare bottom under the big
shirt he had managed to put on. "Please Monsieur Skinner, I was joking. I
didn't mean to get you in trouble with the ugly Mademoiselle. It was all in
the spirit of fun!"
"Mon petit, you are a disrespectful little brat but a few smacks of my brush
over your bare behind will cure you of this tendency of pulling silly pranks
on seasoned men. Now come here!"
"No! No! You already spanked me in the tub. Pleeaase!"
Walter crossed his arms sternly still grasping the hairbrush. "Fox, I'll
give you a choice. Although you deserved it I'm going to be soft on you
since it's your first time with my brush and I'll give you only ten smacks
to serve as a reminder for better behavior in the future. But if I have to
run after you you're going to receive at least fifteen. So what's going to
be?"
"Please, don't spank me!"
"Okay! Then it's going to be fifteen smacks."
Walter moved so fast that the boy didn't have any chance to run away and was
securely positioned on his stomach against one strong thigh with his chest
on the mattress and his fleshy bare butt at a perfect angle for punishment.
The oversized linen shirt has wrinkled on his back up to his neck due to his
bent position so he couldn't even count on the thin barrier to protect his
bare cheeks from the implacable blows. Fox howled in pain at the first
smack. He couldn't ever have imagined that it was going to be this bad. Then
the next smack fell on his right cheek and his scream of pain was genuine.
Another smack found his left bum and then the same pattern was repeated
several times, as tears covered his red face. An unpleasant heat was rapidly
taking over of his entire nether region to an excruciating point when the
smacks seemed to be concentrated on the sit spot. When he thought he
couldn't endure anymore, the blows stopped and he was gently pulled up to
sit on his tormenter's lap and pulled into his comforting embrace. He winced
as his red bottom touched his baldie's hard thighs but Walter turned him
onto his side so that his butt didn't make contact with anything.
Even though Fox resented Walter at the moment for the spanking he couldn't
refuse the sense of security he felt as he was held so close to the older
man's chest. He missed the warmth of another body near him during the past
days. He cried not only for his lost family and painful bottom but also for
the tenderness he felt emanating from Walter.
Walter was a little worried with the boy's reaction. Too many tears for such
a light spanking. You have been through a lot mon petit.
Walter sadly smiled as he stroked with great tenderness the dark abundant
locks. It must be terrible to wake one day and realize you are completely
alone in a hostile world and at such a tender age. His heart constricted in
sympathy for the little boy and he tightened his hold on the precious life.
In truth he was charmed by the boy, in some aspects they shared some life
similarities. Both of them had lost their parents when they were young. But
Walter had been lucky to have a loving family that took him in. He smiled
fondly as he remembered his aunt and younger cousin. His uncle, Baron Scully
died last year of an obscure fever. Even now he missed the old man so much
and he was a grown man of thirty five years old so he could imagine the hell
the little boy was living. He looked down at the boy in his arms and saw
that he had calmed down a little and was breathing heavily, his reduced sobs
coming in hitching breaths.
"Tell me about your father, mon petit."
"M-My father didn't have much contact with us. He was always working and
didn't like children talkings near him. We were, I mean my sister and I,
allowed to have lunch with them but never dinner. We always ate dinner in
the nursery with our old nanny."
"You had a private nanny. So your father was a rich man?"
"Why do you ask?"
"That's okay Fox. You didn't want to tell me your name but I assumed you're
an aristocrat because of your noble features, cultured voice and smooth
hands. Don't worry, I'm not your enemy. I only want to help you."
"No one could help me. I'm going to die just like my family."
"No, mon petit." Walter shook him slightly to get his full attention. "I can
protect you, I swear. All you have to do is be mindful of what I say to you
and follow all the instructions I give you and everything is going to be all
right. Can you do that?"
Walter noted with amusement that Fox nodded instead of giving his consent in
words after a few moments of serious consideration. Ah mon petit renard
you're truly astute and cunning just like the little fox you claimed to be.
But I'm an old and very experienced hunter and I won't be deceived by your
little tricks.
Walter knew the reason for the boy not verbally give his word was that if he
failed to do his bidding he wouldn't really be breaking a vow and so his
honor would still be intact. Aristocrat's old code of honor, he knew
everything about it and he wouldn't let the boy get himself killed trying to
avenge his dead family. He couldn't bring them back and the sooner he
accepted this the better. Walter sighed as he envisioned the difficult path
ahead. Perhaps I should give up the plan for saving the Barry family and
leave the country immediately, put Fox in a safe place. His musings were
interrupted by a shy voice.
"Are you going to send me away because I was naughty?"
Walter tilted the quivering chin up, "What? Send you away? My troublesome
disrespectful and disobedient little fox? No way, mon petit you're stuck
with me for a long time and you'd better behave or..."
"Or what?" Fox asked with a big, cocky grin.
"Or I'll tickle you mercilessly into submission." Walter jumped to action
and elicited good loud laughters from the imp. "And if it's not enough to
keep you in line we can always discuss your bad actions with my hand or
brush over your bare bottom." Walter raised his hand which was grasped by
the boy who breathlessly assured him, "I've got the message. There's no need
to demonstrate your point, Monsieur."
"Good! I'm glad you're such a fast learner. But look at you, mon petit,
you're a mess! Come on, let's bathe." Walter said as he pulled himself up
from the bed dragging the young boy with him.
"Again? But I've already had!" Fox whinned miserably.
"Don't argue with me, mon petit. Into the tub now." Walter cocked an
eyebrow, "Or do you want another dose with the brush?"
"Ha-ha! No, thank you. I'm taking the bath." Fox entered the tub too soon
and stood up shivering. "Ouch! It's freezing!"
"Get back down to the water. If you weren't such a brat you wouldn't be here
again and I'd be bathing in a warm water. So don't complain and go forward."
Walter said as he sat behind the small body. After a few moments Walter
exclaimed triumphantly as he inspected Fox's ears, "Ah! I knew it! You
didn't wash behind your ears. It's disgusting!" He said as he pushed the
boy's head into the cold water and chuckled at the muffled protests.
Five minutes later they were sitting at the small table eating a cold meal.
Fox dressed in another one of Walter's fresh oversized linen shirt stopped
in mid bite and teased him, "I think you take really good care of me,
baldie. Clothes that don't fit me, freezing baths and cold meals. What more
could a boy wish for in life?"
Walter threw his head back and broke into a hearty laughter. He then pointed
a finger at the cheeky brat, "Touché, mon petit and I don't think it's
necessary to say that it's your fault. Now eat everything that are on your
plate and then it's bed for you. Ah!" He lifted a hand before Fox could emit
a sound. "No arguments here. And swallow your food carefully or you'll
choke. Tomorrow we'll have a very busy day."
TBC