Blood of Abraham - Chapter Two
by Mik
You never fully appreciate the limitations of your local convenience store until you need to meet the needs of someone with an alternative lifestyle, such as infancy. I wandered the narrow, overstocked aisles stupidly, finding nothing until I found a bored looking female in a red jersey, standing at the end of cereal/magazine/hair care/cleaning supply aisle, head cocked, popping gum. "You need help?"
I don't think the question was actually intended as an offer, but I shoved the list at her. She read it twice, looked at me and looked at the list again, and sighed, as if I'd handed her a passage in Runes and she wasn't quite up on ancient texts. "You can't get all that stuff here," she pronounced.
"I suspected that," I muttered. I reached for the list and she let it slide from her fingers. "Would it be violating your oath of office to tell me where I might get all this stuff?"
"Huh? Oath of what?"
"Exactly. Thanks for your time." I pocketed the list and returned to my car.
As I was twisting the key in the lock, she stepped outside. "Hey, Mister. If you want to buy a lot of baby stuff there's a new Kidsmart about two miles from here. It's next to the new Restoration Store," she added as if that was an easily recognizable landmark for everyone.
I thought about it. The idea of a toddler themed superstore was intimidating, but the idea of coming home without procuring everything on Scully's list was terrifying. "Uh...yeah," I said, climbing into the car. "Thanks a lot."
I turned into the parking lot with trepidation. It was surrounded by what I call extreme stores. Supersized specialty shops for fanatics of all sorts; electronics, pets, books, home and garden, and even coffee. And as promised, right in the middle of it all, was a Kidsmart. It seemed like the biggest store of all, looming over me, sucking in parents with screaming children, and spitting them out with dazed expressions, full carts, empty wallets, and if possible, more screaming kids. I would have voted for Bush rather than go in there, but no one was giving me the option.
"Mulder?"
I couldn't believe the message my ears delivered to my brain. I turned my head slowly. No, it was true. My former boss was walking toward me. At least, I think it was my former boss. He looked right, except he was in real people clothes; jeans and a polo and - here's the eerie part - he was smiling! "Hi," I said. I swear it was the only word my brain knew at that moment.
"You're out late," he said cheerfully. "Just getting off work?"
Then I remembered I was still in Bureau drag. Finding unordered infants in the hall sort of derailed my 'strip down to shorts and grab a beer' tradition. "Oh. Yeah. Had to run an errand on the way home. What are you doing here?"
He lifted a hand vaguely. "I'm restoring an antique sideboard. What about you?"
I swallowed. "I...um...Scully's n – nephew...she's looking after him. Asked me to get a few things." I started moving toward the door, hoping he'd go away before any questions occurred to him.
"She must be enjoying that," he observed, still preternaturally cheerful.
"Oh, yeah. She is." Who are you? "It's really good seeing you again, Sir. How is everything going in your -"
"Please." He held up a hand in protest. "I'm not your Supervisor anymore. Call me Walter."
"With all due respect, Sir," I blurted, "I couldn't call you Walter if we were married." Well, that was probably the dumbest thing I had ever said to him, and in my career I had said some colossally dumb things to him. "I mean...that is...well, you know."
"Relax, Mulder," he patted my shoulder, "it was funny."
I didn't know what to say. "Well, anyway ..."
"I saw that profile you did on the kidnapping in Kansas," he told me, interrupting my floundering.
"How did you - I mean, I don't do profiling anymore."
He smiled again tolerantly. "I know. But I also know that Robinson couldn't profile Mickey Mouse. Mulder, I'd know your work anywhere, so don't even try it with me. Your secret's safe."
It felt good, I have to confess, to have anyone know I'd ghosted the work that saved a kid's life. It felt especially good it was my former boss. "Thanks."
"You deserve more than my thanks," he said, no longer smiling. "Kersh is a fool not to utilize your skills and I'm not the only one who thinks so."
The pneumatic doors slid out of our way. "Gee, why couldn't you say something like that when I worked for you?" I asked.
"Because you were hard enough to control as you were," he answered easily. "God knows how I could have kept you in line if I'd let you get conceited."
"Conceited? Oh, thank you." I stopped abruptly. Floor to ceiling stacks of toys, diapers and other baby accoutrement screamed 'buy me!' I know I shuddered. "Holy shit!"
I could feel Skinner chuckle as he pulled my rigid body out of the path of desperate parents and their wailing children. "This ought to be interesting."
I scowled at him. "Don't you have some furniture to paint?"
"Oh, I can refinish that sideboard anytime. How often do I get to watch you trying to shop for a child? Frankly, I'm surprised you aren't down at the local bodega trying to find things."
I was at risk to blush guiltily so I looked away as I tugged the list from my pocket. "Do you know anything about what kids need?"
He shrugged and cut a shopping cart from the herd milling around at the front of the store. "A few young cousins, several nieces and nephews and one godchild. I think I'm fairly qualified."
"Fine." I handed him the list. "Lead on, Sensei."
He scanned the list. "This a pretty extensive list for a visiting nephew."
I shrugged. "It was sort of...unplanned. He didn't arrive fully equipped."
"Well," he looked up and pointed, "first things first. Diapers. What size?"
"Size?" I echoed, mystified. The aisle seemed a mile long and a mile high. How many kinds of diapers could there be?
"How old is he?" Skinner prompted.
"He's about ..." I held my hands apart in an estimation of the kid's length.
"That's not very big," Skinner said doubtfully.
"Six weeks. Scully said he's at about six weeks."
"Ah, a new one then." Skinner reached for a box the size of my mattress. "How long will she have him?"
"Um...through the weekend, I think."
"We'd better get two, then." He wedged a second package into the cart. "I didn't realize she'd had another nephew."
"Nor did I. I think this one was a surprise."
"Babies just don't appear on doorsteps, Mulder." He was pushing the cart down the aisle. "They give you plenty of warning they're on the way."
I followed along behind. "Well, I didn't know this one was on the way."
"You sound a little jealous, Mulder," he said, consulting the list. "What's the matter? Is Agent Scully giving all her attention to him?"
"She does seem to like him a lot," I admitted, admittedly surprised.
He patted my back. "Give yourself a break, Mulder. Get to know him. Babies can be a lot of fun." He turned up another aisle. "She doesn't say what kind of formula. Do you know?"
"Formula?"
"The stuff he eats, Mulder. What does he eat?"
I sighed. "If it's not algebraic or racing, I don't know about formulas. Does formula go in a bottle?"
He was laughing outright at me. "Give her a call and get the brand name from the can."
"Oh. Sure. That's a good idea." I dug my mobile out and pressed one. It was still on voice mail. "Scully, I'm trying to find out what formula to buy. A.D. Skinner suggested you check the brand on the can." I hoped I put enough meaning into my voice that she'd understand without him catching on. But he was comparing labels. "No answer." I put the phone away. "She must have it turned off. I left a message."
"The baby's probably asleep," he concluded, sounding very expert. "Well, let's get some of this, since it's pretty much the industry standard." He stacked several cans in the cart. "And just in case," he reached for some others, "we'll get this soy version, in case he's lactose intolerant. Now," he saw something and started off down the aisle.
By the time I caught up, he was putting small boxes into the cart. "What are these?"
"Components for bottles," he answered, searching the shelves. "Ah, nipples." He tossed another box in. "We're getting the disposable kind. No need to sterilize."
I picked up one of the boxes. "How do you know this stuff?" I demanded.
He was on the move again. "It's just common sense," he tossed over his shoulder.
"That's what Scully said," I complained.
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Three hundred dollars later, he was wheeling the cart out to my car. I trailed along, looking at my credit card slip in disbelief. "Give me your keys," he called. I pulled them out and tossed them, still studying the receipt. "Something wrong?" he asked as I got to the car.
"Remind me never to go shopping for a house with you," I responded.
A couple with a cart full of kids and kidutia gave us a dark look as they passed. He muttered something to her and they both sniffed loudly.
I looked at Skinner. "What the hell was that?"
"Oh, pay no attention," he advised, cramming the last of the bags into my back seat. "They made an erroneous assumption, one that just revealed their small minds."
"An erroneous ..." I looked back at them. Then I did blush. "Oh, gay daddies," I concluded.
"Yeah." He shrugged and shut the door. "Well, that was an experience, Mulder." He held out my keys.
"Thanks. And thanks a lot for the help. You do know about kids, don't you?" My pocket started ringing. I reached for it.
"It's mostly common sense, really." He slapped my back. "Good to see you. Take care of yourself. Say hello to Agent Scully."
"Right, I will." I watched him stride back toward the stores. "Mulder," I muttered into the phone.
"Mulder, where are you? It's been two hours." Scully was sounding a bit harried. "And what was all that about A.D. Skinner and formula brands?"
"Kidsmart. I...uh...had some help." Skinner had disappeared inside Restorations. I unlocked my door. "Don't ever go shopping with that man. I'm on my way, right now." I hung up before she could ask any more questions. I backed out carefully, very aware of all the kids dashing around between cars. Before I could push the car into Drive, I saw that couple three cars down, loading their minivan. I stayed in Reverse and rolled down my window as I backed up. "You can unwrinkle your indignation, folks, it's for my nephew, and that man is my boss." Okay, it was pointless, but I felt better. I drove on home.
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Scully met me at the door with a finger to her lips. "He's asleep."
It took me a moment to react to anything more than the fact that she was wearing my shirt and evidently nothing else. "That's great," I whispered. "Come help me unload the car."
She looked at the oversized bag in my arm and the package of diapers I was dragging behind me and said, "Mulder, I can't go downstairs like this."
"Sure you can," I assured her. "It's late, no one will see you."
"How many more trips do you have to make?"
"Only one, if you help me." I put the bag and the diapers on the floor in the kitchen and pulled my trenchcoat out of the cupboard. "Here, put this on and help me."
"This is too long for me." She didn't even let me put it in her hands. "Loan me a pair of boxers."
I elected not to leer or make lewd comments, at least not out loud. I pointed. "Top drawer. Hurry up, I'm double parked."
She darted into and out of my room, tugging my shirt up as she did. She rolled her eyes as I turned my back. "Honestly, Mulder, as many times as we've seen each other in our underwear..." she stepped into my shorts.
"Yes, but I've never seen you in my underwear."
She tugged them into place. "Well, now you owe me. Let's go."
Downstairs I opened the back door of the car, and started handing her bags. "I must say, Mulder," she observed, "you were thorough."
"I told you, I had help."
"Yes, about that..." she used her hip to shut the door before we headed for the building entrance. "What was A.D. Skinner doing at Kidsmart?"
"I met him on my way in," I grunted as we entered the stairwell. "A little faster, Scully, my arm's going numb."
"And he just volunteered to help you shop for some strange child you can't account for?"
"Uh...I sort of accounted for him," I said as I struggled around another landing. "I told him it was your nephew."
She stalled on the step above me and turned around. "You did what? You had no right to drag me into this felony."
"Lady, you're already in," I pointed out, trying to urge her upward. "In case you've forgotten, those are my knickers you're getting into a twist."
"That has nothing to do with -"
"Scully, move, please. We can finish this conversation -"
"Oh, no. This is an argument."
"Okay, argument. Whatever we're having, let's have it upstairs in my apartment, please?" I shifted bags uncomfortably. "Scully, come on. We left the kid alone."
That moved her. We managed to get upstairs without another word.
Once inside my door, Scully dumped packages in the hall and ran on in to check on the kid. I stumbled over them, swore under my breath and kicked, shoved and threw things into the kitchen, before going back down to move my car to a legal parking place.
I was fixing coffee when she materialized in the kitchen doorway, hands on the frame. "How long do you plan to keep him?" she asked, looking at the bags all over my floor. "Until he graduates?"
I smiled at her. I couldn't help it. She looked so damned cute. "Skinner says we needed all this."
"Who made him an expert?" she demanded indignantly. "Didn't he think my brother and sister-in-law would adequately provide for the care of their child?"
"I told him it was an unexpected situation," I explained, flipping the switch on my coffeemaker.
She dropped to her knees and opened a bag. "Well, this is certainly necessary." She held up a stretchy cord with black and white shapes spread across it.
"That's to stimulate him," I explained defensively. "Studies show infants respond better to black and white than to colors."
"This kid is plenty stimulated, believe me." She rummaged further. "Mulder, he has a pacifier."
"That shape is better for his mouth." I reached for another bag and started stacking cans of formula on the counter. "Which kind should he use?" I held out one of each.
Scully reached for them and read labels while I stacked blankets, what appeared to be baby sized straightjackets, baby shampoo, baby soap, baby lotion, baby oil and probably baby vinegar. "I'd go with this one," she said. "It has more nutrients. If he has a bad reaction, switch to the soy."
"Bad reaction?" I stopped juggling the boxes of bottle parts. "How will I know?"
Scully smirked. "You'll know."
"Hmm." I frowned at the instructions on one of the packages. "Scully, do you know how to make bottles?"
She got up and took the boxes from me. While she broke plastic wrap and started assembling a bottle, there was a sharp, alien sound from my living room. "Uh, Scully, I think he's crying."
She nodded, working a cellophane sleeve into a plastic cylinder. "Yep. That's a baby crying."
"Um...shouldn't you do something?"
"Yep. I should tell you to go check on him while I put this bottle together."
"But I -" I decided I'd pushed it enough. "Ohhhhkay." I picked my way through the bags and approached the basket. He was really getting into it, his face deep red, his little fist clenched and shaking. "Hey, pal, take it easy." I reached in gingerly and slid my hands around his rigid body. "I know just how you feel," I assured him. "Yeah, that's good." He had stopped making that wailing sound and was now merely fussing.
I tucked him against my body like a football and went to the kitchen door. "He's okay. Probably just wanted in on the conversation."
Scully did a double take. "Well, there goes your clone theory, Mulder. That child's had a mother."
I looked down. He was chewing on the front of my shirt. "Hey, what are you doing?" I protested.
"He's trying to nurse," Scully told me.
"Whoa!" I jerked him away from my chest. "Sorry, fella. Right pew, but wrong church." I looked at Scully. "What do I do?"
She held out the completed bottle. "Feed him."
"This is empty," I said desperately.
She made a face. "Give him to me. Open a can of formula, put about six ounces in the bottle and warm it."
"Deal." I surrendered the kid. I could handle filling and heating.
I thought.
The rubber cap/nipple proved to be more challenging than a condom at a drive-in movie. First, I couldn't get it off and then, after measuring and pouring formula, I couldn't get it back on and spilled the contents all over the counter and my pants. This, of course, amused Scully. I glared her into silence and tried again.
The third time, I proudly presented her with a completed bottle.
"Very good, Mulder," she told me, "but it needs to be a little warm."
I reached for the microwave door.
"That would be a little too warm. Would you drink coffee right out of the pot?"
I shot it a longing look. "Right now I would."
"Run the bottle under warm tap water," she explained. "Or warm it in a pan of water on low heat."
I sighed. "Finnnnnne."
But I was finally able to hand her a bottle that met with her approval. "Okay, now, take him and feed him."
"Me? But I did the hard part!"
"The hard part's only beginning," she chuckled grimly. "Here." She indicated my kitchen chair. "Now take him. Support his head. That's it." She brushed her hand over his head as if he was the one who needed soothing at that point. "Now, press the nipple to his mouth. Don't jam it. There you go."
I have to admit the kid took to that whole nipple business like a pro. "This isn't so bad," I admitted.
She smiled indulgently at me. "Have you decided on a name yet?" She bent over and picked up the last bag of bibs, baby wipes, assorted unguents and drops.
"Yeah." I watched him work the bottle like a man on a mission. "I think I'll call him Bram."
She looked up with a jerk. "Like Bram Stoker? Dracula?"
"Yeah. Bram."
"Only you, Mulder." She disappeared and returned with her coat and bag. "Where did that name come from?"
I stared at her. "What are you doing?"
She stared back as if that was the silliest question she'd ever heard. "Going home. It's after eleven."
"Stay. Have a coffee -"
"No. It's time for you and...Bram to have some bonding time."
"Have I ever told you how much I admire your skills as an investigator and as a doctor?"
"If you run into any problems, look it up on the internet," she answered, pulling her keys from her bag.
"Did I tell you how cute you look in my shirt?"
"I'm going home, Mulder," she said firmly.
"What am I supposed to do now?" I asked in a panic.
"You'll finish feeding him, you'll change him," she reached for something yellow on the counter, "you'll dress him in his little onesie, and then you'll walk the floor with him 'til dawn. 'night, Mulder. 'night, Bram."
She left.
"That," I said to the kid in my arms, "is my partner."
End Chapter Two