From: ephemeral@ephemeralfic.org Date: 8 Aug 2002 02:05:33 -0000 Subject: NEW YEAR\'S EVE 2002, by MeridyM (1/1) PG by MeridyM Source: direct Reply To: meridym@attbi.com Title: New Year's Eve 2002 Author: MeridyM E-mail: meridym@attbi.com Rating: PG, if that. Feedback is always welcomed and always answered. Posted: August 7, 2002 Disclaimer: What's theirs is theirs; what's mine is mine. Summary: Love on the run. Say it loud; say it proud: It's schmoop, baby! New Year's Eve, 2002 John Doggett walked soundlessly into the bedroom. He stopped at the foot of the bed, hardly able to believe what he was seeing there. A woman nursing his newborn child. Her eyes were closed, a contented smile on her face. He stood still, listening to the sounds he hadn't heard in so many years: the tiny gulps and sighs of a nursing baby, the tuneless hum of a mother to her child. He came close and leaned over mother and child, catching the faint scent of baby powder and fabric softener, of mother's milk and lavender. Suckling hungrily, his son watched him with hazy blue eyes. John brushed the side of his finger across the baby's satiny cheek as a tangle of emotions welled up: love, amazement, awe, inexpressible joy. He felt upside-down, inside-out, besotted. He smiled, smoothing the wisps of black hair on the child's tiny round head. "That's a heck of a supper you're havin' there, bud," he whispered. Mo Dannah opened her eyes. "Hi," she said, smiling up at him. "Did you eat?" "Yeah, I grabbed a burger while I was down in Hayden." He stroked her hair, and she leaned into his hand lazily, like a cat craving attention. She looked sleepy, but in a kind of blissful way he envied. "It's New Year's Eve," he said. "Do you want at least a sip of champagne?" He raised the bottle he held in his free hand. Her brows raised in surprise. "You bought champagne?" "Well, yeah," he said, "It seemed fitting--a new year, a new life. A new life for all of us, you know?" Mo smiled at him. She reached up to touch his cheek, and he turned his face to kiss her palm. It was true. All of it was so new. ~~~ For the last half-year, they'd been on the run from the people who wanted John dead. They'd worked at odd jobs--cleaning, restaurant work, carpentry when John could find it. They'd stayed in motels or in apartments that leased by the week, and they could never settle in anywhere too long before John would start to see someone following them or overhear someone asking about him where he was working that week. He and Mo would always be packed and gone that same day. Monica had also gone underground and sent them the occasional message to let them know she was okay. Mulder and Scully had vanished completely, and there'd been no word from them since early fall. John tried not to worry about them, but it nagged at him, the not knowing. Back in May, when Mo had discovered to her utter shock that she was pregnant, John had moved in with her in Boulder until it became clear that it wasn't safe there either. They'd hit the road after that and had only recently stopped moving. It wasn't the ideal way to go through a pregnancy, but they'd had no other choice. They'd gotten married in June, the traditional time for weddings, which probably made their wedding even harder on Mo. It had been a quick, simple ceremony at the county courthouse in Moab, Utah, with no one in attendance but a stranger as witness. Mo had cried into her pillow on her wedding night, wanting her mother, wanting her sister, wanting the comfort of friends and family. John had held her, his arms wrapped around her newly rounded belly, having no words that could really comfort her. They'd spent the last month and a half in Idaho at the summer home of a friend, and as Mo's time had come closer, her friend Marian had come to help out. On the night of the Winter Solstice, the darkest and most sacred night of the year, the baby Mo never thought she'd be able to have had been born while the wind shook the trees and tossed snow against the windows. ~~~ "Get some glasses," Mo said. "I'll have a little champagne with you--but just a little." John smiled. He set the bottle down on the nightstand and went to the kitchen to find some glasses. Mo looked down at her son, whose nursing had slowed to the occasional flurry of suckles. His eyes were half-closed in drowsy milk-ecstasy. "Your daddy's silly, isn't he, sweetie?" she murmured, tracing a finger down the baby's cheek. But she knew it was John's way of trying to make life a little more normal for them, and she was grateful. She sometimes wondered if he really knew how much she loved him, how much she'd always loved him. ~~~ "How're you feelin' tonight?" John toed off his shoes and carefully settled onto the bed next to Mo and the baby. He passed her a glass containing just enough champagne to make her wish she could drink more. "I'm fine," she said, "aside from the sore nipples and the sore bottom." She chuckled. "Though I can't complain about the improvement in my, um, assets." He grinned. "Well, I can't either," he admitted, "but I'm sorry about the soreness, sweetheart. That can't be much fun." She dropped a gentle kiss on the sleeping baby's forehead. "It's worth it," she whispered. "And it'll pass." John encircled her with his arm, and she nestled against him, adjusting the baby's blanket and resettling his little warm body against her belly. The baby sighed and stretched and nuzzled her in his sleep. She rested her head on John's shoulder. "It's hard to believe the year's over, isn't it?" He stroked her hair tenderly. "Yeah. It's been a hell of a year." He raised his glass, and she touched her glass to his with a soft clink. "Here's to absent friends," he said. "And to everyone we love," she added. She sipped the champagne slowly, trying to make the tiny amount last. She looked up into his face. "You're thinking about them, aren't you? Monica, Mulder and Scully?" He didn't have to ask how she knew. She just. . .knew. "Yeah. It's funny," he said. "I was wondering what Monica did on Christmas." "That's not funny," Mo murmured. "That's sad. I know you miss her. And I've been thinking about Scully a lot recently, too." "You have?" She nodded. "She didn't think she could have a baby either." Mo swallowed the last of her champagne. "That makes sense," he said. "When I was driving back from Hayden earlier, I remembered something Mulder told me one time." His fingers were moving absently in her hair. "I don't know why I even thought of it, but I did, right there on the exit ramp of the 95." "What was it?" Mo asked. "Well, this was before I knew for sure that he and Scully were, you know, involved--though I gotta tell you, I always suspected it. Scully was too miserable the whole time he was missing. I knew there was more there than a regular partnership." Mo nodded. "I don't have a clue why he even told me this, but he said that he knew Scully was special from the first case he worked with her. And here's the kicker: He told me he always had the urge to call her 'Baby.' But he never felt like he could." Mo tilted her head back and smiled at him. "Well, it's not very professional." He smiled back and pulled her hair gently. "Right. But the funny thing is that in the last year or so, I overheard him call her that a few times." "In front of you?" She looked distinctly skeptical. "I'm good at being unobtrusive when I want to be." "Hmmm." He could tell she was sleepy, and he stroked her cheek. "Whenever I heard him call her that I always thought of what he told me that time. I figure he must have known right from the beginning that she was the one for him--even though it took them a while to figure it out." "That sounds familiar," Mo whispered. "I know." John kissed the top of her head. "I guess I just wonder about them." "Oh, darlin', I know," she said. "I know you do." He massaged her head gently, his fingers combing through her dark curls. "I wonder where they are right now. I wonder *how* they are." His blue eyes had turned serious. "Do you think they're all right?" "I do." Her assurance was clear even through her sleepiness. "I have to believe that. I think they're together, just like we are. And you know what else? I think he still calls her 'Baby'." John nodded. "I'd sure like to think so," he said softly. "And speaking of 'baby,' I think this one needs to go to bed, huh?" He smoothed his son's silky hair. "Mmmm." "And so do you," he added, smiling. "Here, let me take him. I'll tuck him in." John lifted the sleeping baby from her tummy and carefully carried him the short distance to his bassinet. He settled him into the wicker baby bed and covered him with the tiny quilt there. He bent over and kissed his son's chubby cheek, marveling at the peaceful beauty of the sleeping infant. "I guess maybe there's no perfect time to be born, huh, buddy? But if it makes any difference, no one could love you more than your mom and I do. And I swear to God we'll keep you safe." John straightened the quilt one last time and turned back to the bed. Mo was asleep, her empty champagne glass still in her fingers. He took the glass and set it on the nightstand and pulled the comforter up over her. She rolled onto her side and sighed. "Happy New Year, sweetheart," he whispered. And he reached up and turned off the lamp. end Author's Notes: This story was a part of a tag-team challenge story written by 21 members of IWTB in honor of Char Chaffin's birthday (we had to fit in somehow that Mulder called Scully "baby"). Char writes a story for every IWTB member's birthday, a Herculean task that one would think quite beyond such a delicate woman! I have no idea how many she's written. . .but I'd guess the number is quite a few dozen. Happy birthday, Char. You're a pearl beyond price. This story is a real departure for me, that's for sure, but I loved writing it and being part of the gang who honored Char. It was written July 29-30, 2002.