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A meeting had been arranged, as promised, for Locke to speak with Detective Jorge Cervantes about his stalker. It would have been off the record if not for the arrival of yet another package filled with pictures of Locke throughout his life. He could practically fill one of those cheap photo albums with the contents of his recent mail. Things were dangerous no doubt, and they weren't getting any better.

Locke didn’t want to look through the new pictures. It was bad enough to get the one of last Christmas, but these ones included yet another post-haircut photo. He had tried to identify every picture, but there were some that he just didn’t recognize, especially the first one. Locke had separated them to the best of his abilities, having his school pictures together, the newspaper clippings, and various ones that he knew. There had been nothing from the age of eight up until last year. He didn’t know what to make of it, since it was only in the last two years that he had been in New York. About the only major event that he could think of during that age gap was his father meeting Kendra. Yes, his step mother didn’t particularly want Locke living across the country, but would she be involved in any way? The handwriting on the envelopes was neat like hers, but the shape of the letters was wrong, and unfamiliar.

The teen wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans knees. Not only did the stalker think freak him out, but Locke wasn’t entirely at ease with talking with a police officer after the whole Alcatraz fiasco. While none of his activities were illegal, they probably weren’t the sort of thing that a teen should be doing. ”Detective Cervantes?” he asked, eyes on the table where he had set down the photos. His backpack had been emptied out of his schoolbooks, and filled with dirt from the school grounds. It had been hellish trying to dig through the frozen crust, but on the whole, having a portable Fluffy made him feel better.

The Beatles officially ruled. How many generations away was Chase from the first fans? Locke could tell that Chase was digging it. There was that same look of “Oh I like this!” that happened whenever his friend Eaan was introduced to a new song. The songs were just too catchy, even if you were too young to get any meaning behind the words. ”Sure, you can dip something in, but you gotta answer a question first,”

His little brother and sister had tried to pull the wool over Locke’s eyes many times before. They would come saying that they were hungry, wanting him to give them sort of sugary sweet, be it chocolate or a fruit roll-up. Every time he questioned if it was a candy hunger or a meal hunger. If they turned down a healthy snack, then they weren’t hungry enough to have a Snickers. ”Are you sure it was your candy sense and not a grilled cheese sandwich craving in disguise?” Making the kid a sandwich was no big deal. The butter was out already for it, and that was one of the three ingredients.

Spoonfuls of the smooth, creamy butter were emptied into a smaller measuring cup while Chase taste tested the chocolate chips. The boy gave his verdict on them and Locke smiled. "Good. You know sometimes something looks like it's chocolate but it's really coffee flavored." For now Chase was kept content with nibbling on his chips while Locke kept stirring the pot. This was his first dessert that he had made that didn't come in a box with a dough-man printed on the side, or get poured into a pie pan. There were recipes for cookies and pies in a shoebox in California. Hugo hadn't been much for baking though, preferring the taste of Chips Ahoy! to anything made from scratch. This whole fudge thing could very easily turn into a burnt mess.

"Why don't you play us some music while we cook?" Locke suggested to the kid. From the stove came a contented blurbing sound as chocolate, milk, and now butter, all started to melt together and boil. Kitchens always had a comforting feel to them, but Locke had never felt nearly as cozy as he had cooking with his dad and listening to the radio. As always Locke's laptop had it's music playing program open, but he had paused the music upon waking up that morning.

"So were you looking for food, or do you have a candy sense that's tingling?" the Californian asked with a smile. A bit of butter was on his thumb and Locke licked it off. The fudge was melting together nicely, which meant time to prepare things to be dipped. Once again Locke washed his hands off. Better wait for the fudge to cool a little before dipping marshmallows in it. I don't want those melting in too, he thought to himself, pulling out a cookie tray and some wax paper.

Ah yes, the whole shapeshifting thing. If he thought about it Locke couldn't picture anything that Chase could turn into. Want wings? There's plenty of mutants around the school that he could turn himself into. Arm length was probably the least of Chase's concerns. "Yeah there's that, but you got to grow into them, not turn into them. Puberty is awkward enough when you ease into it, no need to jump the gun. Oven, off limits." Not that they were going to be using the oven for making fudge. Just the stove top, but that could be dangerous enough.

Chase managed to produce three cups of chocolate chips. Locke emptied the can of condensed milk into the second saucepan, which he had stacked on top of the boiling water. He took a few chips off the top of the measuring cup. "Taste test?" he asked Chase with a smile, holding up a chip. Before the kid could answer Locke tilted his head back and tossed a chocolate chip into the air, catching it in his mouth. The chip was icy cold, but much less awkward to get caught in the back of your throat than a peanut M&M. "Hmm... I think I need a second opinion. You try one."

Taste tests was how Hugo got Locke into helping out in the kitchen. Meal making becomes more interesting if you get to have tidbits as you made it. Locke planned to get Chase wanting to cook. Better to start learning it young that way you can make yourself food.

The glass measuring cup was slid over to Chase. For years it had been just Locke and his dad and the two had fallen into a pattern when it came to preparing meals. As he grew older Locke helped out more and more. Measuring ingredients had been his first ventures into cooking. Now the teen made meals single handedly. "We need three cups of chocolate chips. I'll find us the condensed milk." There had to be some left over from Thanksgiving. Locke always forgot to make the pumpkin pie, so there was always a can around.

"You help out around the kitchen before?" he asked Chase pushing aside random cans of food, trying to find the condensed milk that he was sure was in there someplace. "Making cookies or pasta?" The water was starting to boil a little which meant that he needed to get the rest of the supplies together. Chris hadn't been much help in the kitchen. His brother always had too much energy to be able to stay still long enough. Mai on the other hand was learning how to cook quite well. In the last Skype session she had proudly shown him a hamburger that she had made.

Chase could help. Locke's question was more to determine if he needed to teach Chase the rules for kitchen safety. He didn't want to explain to anyone why the boy had burnt his clothes or chopped of a finger.

Of course the second that Chase said his name Locke was able to remember it. He could see and hear Chase telling the people who had handed him candy that he was the Grim Reaper, followed by his actual name. It had been funny and the sort of cute thing that his brother and sister would have done. "Alright, Chase. Not Kid Death," he chuckled. Locke went over to the sink and started washing his hands. By now he had gotten use to the layout of the kitchen and could find the things he needed to cook.

Chase complained about how far away Valentine's Day was. The teen just had to smile. Life always was more interesting when you were viewing things through younger eyes. To Chase January must stretch on forever so Valentine's Day might as well be the day after tomorrow. "Relax. I don't think that there's anyplace here that could keep fudge hidden for long.." Not that it made any difference. Valentine's Day was commercialized yes, but it still had that whole romantic, or at least love feel to it. He had nobody that he was in love with, so it felt like a pointless holiday.

"First we have to boil some stuffs down. The chocolate, fudge, sugar, butter..." Locke explained as he grabbed two large saucepans. In one he filled some water and set that to boil. "You want to dip anything in it?"

Every year at Christmas Locke tried to watch A Christmas Story as many times as possible. Usually he could get two, maybe two and a half viewings before someone changed the channel. In his mind it was a great movie. The whole thing gave him that sense of comfort and he wanted to be Ralphie, to live in that house that had the soft warm glow, and to listen to the radio. As much as he loved his laptop and the convenience of modern technology, Locke was a history geek and the movie was deliciously vague about the specific year it took place in.

The only problem was that this year he had managed to beat his usual record of times seeing A Christmas Story, and it left him with a rather unusual desire. He was in the kitchen, surrounded by pots, marshmallows, chocolate, potato chips, and all sorts of junk food that had been leftovers from attempts at gingerbread houses. Each time he started watching the movie this year he always walked in on the scene where the Old Man and Ralphie change the car tire. You can only hear someone draw out the word fudge so many times before you want it.

"Right, so Lord Google, how do I make this stuff?" he asked, scrolling through the various webpages that his favorite site brought up. So many different sites declared that their recipe was the easiest. The teen had never made any sort of candy, unless you considered sticking peanut butter and M&M's on a stalk of celery candy.