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We finished the perimeter fence seven weeks ago…it went surprisingly faster with Fox’s help. I never knew that he had such excellent carpentry skills – not to mention any of his other previously unrealized talents – but I digress. I can’t imagine my life without him in it now; not sure what I’d do if I couldn’t see that crooked grin beaming up at me as he finishes another row of slats into slots I’ve pounded in, not certain that I’d be able to breathe if he weren’t there to rub my shoulders – and allow me to return the favor – in our new above ground hot tub after a long day’s work.

The passion that we share every night after working on our land all day is alien to me…but I’m getting used to it. I’ve spent so damned much time in my own little universe, it’s been a challenge to me to allow anyone – especially him – in…but it gets a little easier with every day that passes. We celebrated finishing the perimeter in true bohemian style; he stripped his clothes off as soon as he’d fed in the last slats between the posts I’d pounded in and I did him right out there (he’d prepared himself after our shower that morning; we both knew it would be the final workday) against the not-quite-yet weathered wood with nothing more than his hands clutching the paint-stripped wood and digging in his meager nails as I clutched his hips and pulled, pushed and pulled him bodily back onto me, that sweet, tight and always forgiving ass not stopping until he’d howled his climax out into the wilds of our never-ending backyard, his cum christening the last of the fruit of our labors. It was truly beautiful, all of it…but I digress again.

With the fencing-in of the backyard finished, there came Fox’s inevitable pleas for a puppy. I told him puppies are too much work, what with potty training and everything, and we settled a 2-week long begging and eye-rolling mock argument (him supplying the begging of course) by agreeing to adopt a dog from the local shelter. That very next weekend we made a trip into Tucson and, half an hour later, our paperwork was approved – we could go pick out the pet of Mulder’s dreams. I was thinking of something small to mid-sized, but Fox insisted that a small yappy dog would do no more than become food for an owl or a coyote or any manner of desert creature…he had something more, dare I say, ‘monstrous’ in mind. Of course he was right about the wildlife threat, but I had no idea what he might find ‘suitable’.

We walked ‘the green mile’ (as Fox so succinctly dubbed it – the concrete floor really was painted light green) slowly, making sure to check out all the dogs and puppies gated in on both sides of the walkway with their yipping, yapping, barking, whining and crying as we passed. I pointed to a couple of shepherd mixes, but Mulder would have none of that; he wanted something bigger…some kind of guard dog. I tried to explain that most any dog we chose would become our guard dog, as most of them tend to protect their people and property by nature – but Fox remained resolute. Fifteen minutes later we were approaching the end of the walkway, the exit door right ahead and only six kennels left to check out…just 3 on each side. I hung my head, having ceased making suggestions after the first five dogs I thought looked great were all shot down for one reason or another by my mate; I was becoming more sure by the minute that we just were not meant to find a dog this day…and then it happened.

Mulder had made his way ahead of me, and stopped at the next to last kennel on the left side of the walkway. He stood there with his hands on his hips, a huge grin on his face which he beamed back at me as I shuffled my way along, suddenly maudlin with the thought that so many animals were unwanted and needed homes, wondering if perhaps we should get a pair of something when he stated, “This is him, Walter. This is our dog.”

I’ll just bet, I thought to myself as I checked out an adorable red chow mix on the right, wagging his flipped-up tail and blinking his dual colored eyes at me (one brown and one blue, how unique) as I passed to see what Mulder had chosen for our ‘adopted child’. When I came up behind Fox, I froze in my tracks; this dog was so large he had an entire kennel all to himself. He looked like a great white wolf, with about 2% German Shepherd thrown in for good measure, snow white with just a touch of black on the tip of each enormous ear, his great snout and all four of his feet. His eyes were blue, cerulean as the clearest day you can ever remember seeing, and he was standing up on his back feet with his front paws laced through the cage while my lover stood there and petted him adoringly. One big pink tongue – courtesy of ‘Jack’ according to the sign on the kennel door – flicked intermittently through the cage in order to lick Fox’s chin, while he stood there fawning and clucking over the beast with the enthusiasm of a five-year old.

“I told you that you were too big for a pony Mulder,” I muttered quietly, shutting my mouth with the look of death that met my quip.

“I told you I wanted a real dog, Walter. Jack is a real dog. A man’s dog…the kind of dog that will take excellent care of the house and the property and everything else. Just look at him, Walt…he’s gorgeous,” Fox ranted as he turned his gaze back to the behemoth that was once again trying to devour his face from behind the kennel door. It was true…he was a gorgeous dog. I was already hooked and Fox knew it. DAMN him! My meager attempt at perhaps giving all of this a second-thought was met with much chuckling and head shaking from my partner. Looks like we’re taking ‘Jack’ home. Bastard. (Mulder, not Jack.)

“He’s huge, Mulder…are you sure that this–” of course no more words were necessary…on my part anyway. It would appear that Jack was as taken with Fox as Fox was taken with him, and no more discussion was deemed necessary. Running my hands over my already bald scalp, I wondered just how much more hair was going to be gone with the newest addition to our household…and then I realized that dog or not, Mulder still had the market cornered on that at the very least.

With a deep sigh, I put my hands on Fox’s shoulders and turned him to face me, smiling at Jack over his head (the goddamn dog was nearly as tall as me on his hind legs) as I did and said, “Let’s go get our dog, Mulder.” Another half an hour later (and after being duly warned that no other small animal as a pet would be tolerated by our newest family member, and warned that wolf-hybrids aren’t usually adoptable but Jack was such a unique and sweet boy that he demanded exception to the rule, and any number of other useful tidbits from the shelter staff who had obviously already fallen under Jack’s spell), Mulder and I loaded our canine ‘son’ into the back of the Ford and headed for PetSmart. All I could do was hope that Jack (1) wouldn’t try to jump out of the back of the truck as we drove, and (2) wouldn’t eat anyone smaller than him while we procured all the necessary supplies for what could only be called a dog/horse hybrid.

Jack was perfectly behaved as we strolled through PetSmart, spending in excess of $500 or so by the time we’d gotten a collar, leash, King Kong-sized dog bed, 100 pounds of dog food (that would probably only be a month’s supply if that), toys, treats, and anything else that Fox deemed “Jack-worthy”. After loading Jack and all his things in the truck, we got in and buckled up; Mulder grabbed my hand as I tried to hook my seatbelt, making sure that I stopped and looked him straight in the eye when he said, “Thanks Walter. He’s perfect…you’ll see. I just know he’s exactly what we need.” I smiled at the man I loved and replied, “He’d better be, Fox…there’s only room in our bed for one of you…and after the amount of time and money we’ve spent today, he’s lookin’ pretty good…” I finished with a smirk that Mulder could do nothing less than kiss off of me to the point where I was ready to be completely fuck-stupid…and once we got home, I was most certainly fucked stupid…and beyond.

Luckily, it would appear that Jack had had an experience or two with so-called ‘amorous parents’, and he showed no more interest in eating either of us whole than he would any other animal around his own size; it was when I was slumped atop Mulder and panting, both of us gasping for air immediately post-coitus when Jack believed one (or both) of us were in danger and he would lift up his great snout and howl until one or both of us would shout, “NO HOWL!” and he would silence himself and lie down with his paws over his nose, awaiting further instruction. Fox should have been that obedient when were in the Bureau, I would think with an exhausted smirk every time Jack raised that nose, and would put his head back down at the merest utterance of, “Uh-uh-uh…Jaaaaaack…”.

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It didn’t take long at all for Jack to lay claim to the house; he vehemently sniffed and snorted into every available orifice in the house, making sure that he’d memorized the entire layout by his second day as our so-called offspring. He relished the idea of running and/or patrolling the ten or so acres of now-fenced in backyard, sprinting around like a puppy and pouncing on Mulder and myself whenever the opportunity presented itself (more often for Fox, which of course was pre-planned). I couldn’t stop the laughter that would bubble up and out of me every time we would let Jack out in the backyard and he would go tearing off, nearly out of sight for a few moments as he pursued some bunny or lizard or some such thing, then come sprinting back so fast and so hard that Mulder would hide behind me, letting me take the brunt of Jack’s “attack” – which was actually the dog sliding to a stop in the dirt in front of me, leaving a dust cloud that Pigpen from ‘The Peanuts’ cartoons would be proud of, before rearing up on his hind legs and placing his filthy paws on my shoulders with a huge smile on his face, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth, seemingly laughing at me as he would lunge at Mulder over my shoulder, then give in and merely bathe my face.

I’m not sure when exactly it happened, but I became quite fond of Jack over the course of the next few months. I’d never had a dog, and wasn’t quite sure what to expect with one; according to the shelter vets he was just over 2 years old and all that we had to do was…be…daddies. He could easily have jumped the perimeter fence, but chose to stay within the confines of our ranch. He could easily have turned on either Fox or myself due to his size, not wanting to be contained or restricted…but he appeared to be perfectly happy to play giant puppy to Fox and me, chasing whatever toy or stick we deigned to throw for him, and always retrieving whatever it was with that same ‘smile’.

At night Fox and I would go to bed early, usually ready to read a book or watch whatever might be making its way through the satellite television channels; Jack would make himself comfy in his bed, snoring softly until he was certain that Fox and I were doing exactly the same…and then he would strike. Once we’d both nodded off, Jack would make his way onto the bed, creeping up one limb at a time until he was comfortably lying across both of our feet, taking up almost the entire foot of our California King bed with his bulk. Granted, he was a fantastic foot-warmer…but on the nights when he felt like snuggling? Let’s just say that it’s good that Fox and I were no longer in our so-called ‘honeymoon phase’. Jack took up most of the bed between Fox and myself and I shuddered when I tried to imagine what might happen when we wanted to be a little more, shall I say, amorous. Jack was a great referee when Mulder and I played around in the yard or the hot tub, or argued over who should have more room on the porch swing from time to time…unfortunately, he usually sided with my pouty-lipped lover.

Jack was the perfect ‘son’ for Fox and I; the ideal accompaniment to our living arrangement…shacked up together as we were in our retirement oasis in the Sonoran Desert. His great white body would come flouncing out of the house in the mornings, eager to take off and completely annihilate anything in his path in our massive “backyard” as we had taken to calling it. Mulder and I would head out for the spa in the still-cool wee hours of the morning while Jack roamed the perimeter, all of us content, at home, and (for Mulder and myself – Jack had been, shall we say, ‘unmanned’ before we adopted him) satiated. Life was – for a change – nothing less than good; in fact it was better than good. It was – dare I say – amazing. For the first time in all of our lives (as I’m sure Jack would agree) we were together, happy, carefree, home…and did I mention together?! We were actually a family, just the three of us, and it seemed like it was right where we all belonged. In fact, it was where we all belonged.

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Mulder traded in his nasty Bureau-issued Ford many months back for a weathered Jeep Wrangler we’d spotted for sale during one of our many trips into Tucson for supplies. The ugly red thing was sitting there all beat up and forlorn looking with some hand-scrawled ‘For Sale’ sign taped to it, and Fox just had to have it – no matter that it had been abused for years by what could only be described as some high-school age ‘Deliverance’ inbreeding runner-up, judging from the kid that met us after we’d phoned about it. My God, was I really this jaded towards my fellow man? And was this kid really a man? I was truly getting old…

It was four-wheel drive of course, and I eventually had to see the logic in his decision for two reasons…one, it was a pain in the ass to try and use the Ford anywhere around the property (save for driving it to the base of the mountains to leave it), especially during monsoon season when half our land was destined for swampland for days at a time…and two, it was one hell of a lot more fun to ride with Jack in the backseat, rather than worrying about him falling (or jumping) out of the back of the truck (which Jack had never done but I wasn’t willing to tempt fate AND it ended up being one more thing Fox could laugh at me for…which both delighted and pissed me off in equal measure as most everything else we’d done in our ever-evolving dual-retirement thus far).

In addition to the exit of the final 4-wheeled remnant of our FBI days, we decided to purchase one more ATV so that we could four-wheel anywhere we wished. We’d spent many weekends (hell, we were retired now, so weekdays too) tooling around the property alternately sharing my four-wheeler, and now we were a triple threat to be reckoned with. Fox and I would open up the back door and let Jack loose to sprint around in the yard while we ate breakfast, then head out to our matching ATV’s as the great white beast would bound back to meet us at the first sign of the engines revving up, that great tongue lolling out the side of his mouth despite being slightly exhausted from his morning run, but ever-ready to race us to the mountains (always winning, mind you) and beyond.

This became our daily regimen, all three of us ‘men’ greeting the desert every day whether it be with coffee and a biscuit or some kibble and the thrill of the chase with some horned lizard or other, and we always met back on the front porch of the ranch after a couple of hours’ activity. And so it went for days on end, until it had been so long that neither Fox nor myself could remember a time when it wasn’t so…and of course Jack was always acquiescent, so no argument there. Before we knew it, it was time to celebrate our 2^nd Anniversary together – all three of us – despite the time Mulder and I had known one another in the past, and definitely before we’d allowed the large white mass of fur and muscle and desert dirt and dog-spit we called ‘Jack’ to infiltrate our lives. It was time to do something special…something that none of us would forget but at the same time would allow us to benchmark our time together in a way that was out of the ordinary for all of us...Jack included.

Looking back now, it would have been so simple to make another choice, one that might not have been so earth shattering and heartbreaking. Of course there was nothing at the time that might have warned any of us; we’d all been together so long that we naturally took the safety and security we all felt alongside one another for granted. Fox and I had had Jack for nearly a year, and we’d all settled into our daily patterns…there hadn’t been any sign of danger or anything of the sort for so long with Mulder and I, I was sure that we’d left all the bad shit behind us.

Even Jack, because day after day after day we’d let him out to run, and Fox and I would follow up behind him on our “Land Scooters” as Fox had dubbed them (something akin to Star Wars, I was sure) and nothing – NOTHING – had ever happened to indicate that we should be wary. Of anyone. Of anyTHING. Especially where the well being of our monstrous ‘son’ was concerned. We were sure he could take anyone – or anything – on. I wish our ideas of security and safety were enough to keep all of us unscathed…because it was only another couple of weeks after my waxing poetic on the virtues of family life and the beloved presence of our great beast before all of us had our lives turned upside down yet again. As if Fox and I hadn’t learned that lesson well enough before, it would be one more tortured test that would try even the most patient beings (human or otherwise)…and we were quite far from patient, especially considering our pasts – all three of us. And how could one being ever make that choice…whom to favor most…as though anything in the universe should ever even have to contemplate it – let alone act on it?

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Author’s Notes:

Okay, PLEASE forgive me for waiting so long to post this part. I had NO idea whether I was going to have the boys get a dog, or a horse, or WHATever…let ALONE what was going to happen next. This cliffhanger is on purpose, and I will NOT be waiting five months to post again. More like 5 days…thanks to all of you who are still reading, and thanks for ALL your words of encouragement.

Mik, get better DAMMIT!! I LOVE YOU!

Part 7 Coming SOON…no, really. REALLY.