From: phileandforget Date: Thu, 20 Dec 2001 08:57:48 -0800 (PST) Subject: New submissions (3) Source: direct Title: Like Minds Author: phileandforget Date: November 20, 01 Category: Vignette Rating: G Archive: Yes! Spoilers: Existence, Season Nine Key Words: Reyes, William, babysitting Summary: While Scully and Doggett are out seeking answers, Reyes and little William amuse themselves by playing in the nursery... Author's Note: See end. Like Minds phileandforget The room is small and softly decorated to appease an infant's waking tears. The eggshell blue curtains are half-drawn, letting in a sliver of streetlight that cuts dully across the room, reaching all but the furthest corners. In the middle of the room is a large bed covered in scattered papers and files, and in the middle of that is a young woman holding a baby. A bassinet is set up beside them, but for the moment, he nestles in her arms like a little chick, draining a bottle of warm milk. He makes sucking sounds and gurgles, to which she replies with soft coos and soothing nonsense. She herself is sucking on a piece of candy that has stained her mouth a little darker pink than usual. It compliments her grey suit and pink blouse, but the whole effect is out of place in this nursery. She ought to be wearing something softer, more maternal - but she is not the mother. Rather, she is but an impostor, thrust unexpectedly into the position of caregiver -- she suspects they will both be a little relieved when the real parent returns. Eventually, the nipple slips from the baby's mouth and his eyes follow suit. Tenderly, she traces the round form of his tiny face, which is framed by the first wisps of hair. Her finger trails down to his forearm as it extends from his little jumper suit, and around his miniature hand, insinuating itself in its young grasp. Instinctively, the hand clenches around her finger, which is almost as thick as his wrist. She feels so terribly large at that moment. It occurs to her that this child is not ordinary, that he is perhaps more unique - more significant to humanity - than any child born since Jesus Christ. He is the first of a new generation of humans, if what she was told is true. He is thus infinitely dangerous, but simultaneously, in need of her protection. She vows to protect him. Whatever it takes, she pledges her life to this tiny boy in her arms. He seems oblivious to her rush of emotion, but the fingers curled around her clench more tightly. He is so like her, she muses - and so like his mother. But so unlike anyone who was ever born... Loathe to replace him in his crib when he is settled so comfortably, she leans back against the pillows, getting comfortable herself. She also doubts that he is quite asleep, and uses this as an excuse to steal another few minutes of maternity. His own mother is out hunting shadows, chasing down the demons that have plagued her since his miraculous birth. It is all for his safety; his mother is terrified for it. They all are, but especially Dana. She knows that he is special - to the human race, to the project - but more than that, he is special to her. He is her everything, and she is his. The baby's father is also out hunting - answers, incredible and elusive - but on a separate mission to his mother. Sighing softly, the woman glances back down at the baby's delicate features. He must be asleep by now, she thinks, and with a gentle wave of regret, decides to let him alone. He has been tired out by her impromptu babysitting; old enough to play, too young to know the rules, she has been playing with him all night. Her favourite game is "make-believe," pretending so many fantastical things. Among them, pretending that he is her own, that he is "normal," that he understands the implicit danger, desperation, of his existence. Pretending that she can protect him from the world he has been born to save. As she settles him in the nest of his bassinet, she takes longer than necessary to arrange his pillows, pull up his light blanket and snuggle beside him a little toy alien. Finally, she is satisfied that his comfort is of the utmost, and returns to the bed to resume her reading. The files are perplexing and similar; she knows she is too tired to focus, yet forces herself to read on. It is nearly two in the morning, and like a mother, she waits up anxiously. For a moment, she recalls the days when her own mother would wait up for her -- at least this late -- she was a terrible teenager. The thought comes to depress her, though, when she realises that at her present age, her mother had been child rearing for several years. She forces her attention back to the files. Presently, a noise catches her attention. She tries to ignore it, as she has finally managed to absorb herself in the case files. It continues though, and frustrated, she glances around for the source. None becomes apparent, until she glances over at the crib. Above it, suspended from the ceiling, the mobile is rotating slowly. There is no air current to move it, either from the closed window or low heater, or any other source. It appears to be turning of its own accord, and with each clockwise rotation, creaking loudly. It is really getting on her nerves. Monica glances over and after a moment, the mobile slows to a stop. Then, ever so gradually, it begins to turn in the opposite direction, and satisfied, she returns to her reading. End Author's Note: Just a little scene that came to me tonight -- hope you like it. It was inspired by a post on the Haven Boards, regarding the "special gifts" of William, Scully and potentially Reyes. All feedback gratefully received at webmaster@withinrach.com http://fanfic.withinrach.com