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Please Note: My apologies for this continuity error. For purposes of clarification, please be aware that the first paragraph of Chapter Five should have read:
I had arranged with the Gunman to come by on Sunday to get to know the kid, and with my mind at ease (for the moment) about childcare, I dropped back onto the sofa, bunched the pillows under my head, and tried to let sleep come back to me.
Chapter Five has been corrected - thanks for your patience. Now...presenting Chapter Six...
Blood of Abraham - Chapter Six
by Mik
Well, there they were, the three godfathers; Byers on the sofa next to the carrier, Langley leaning over the arm of the sofa, and Frohike kneeling in front of the sofa. Each of them was considering the car carrier and its contents with an awe usually reserved for religious relics and sixteen cylinder engines.
The contents of the carrier wasn't exactly experiencing the same reverence. He was annoyed. He was annoyed before they got there and having three strangers hovering over him was only making matters worse. I'd spent the last hour trying to backhoe my apartment, wash his face and get him crammed into an outfit I'm sure he swore in utero he'd never wear.
It was a sailor suit. I don't know what came over me. I found it in the pile of clothes Cherub had given me, and in a flash of something close to vengefulness I had decided to make him pay for four straight nights with very little sleep. Now that my sanity had been restored, I felt guilty. The kid was probably scarred for life.
"Are you sure this isn't the result of some wild night in the copy room with a filing clerk, Mulder?" Frohike asked with a leer. "He sure looks like you."
"No, he looks like my sister," I repeated, for about the hundredth time. "C'mon, I showed you the photograph. He looks just like my sister did at that size. Why won't anyone look beyond the end of their nose?"
"Maybe because certain noses and other noses are so similar," Frohike responded with a laugh.
"That's just because we're related...somehow." I'm not sure why, but I was becoming more and more defensive about that kid's parentage. "All the men on my mother's side of the family have the same nose."
"Doesn't that make it hard for everyone to breathe?" Langley asked innocently.
I rolled my eyes and sighed.
He and Frohike snickered.
"Any significance to the name?" Byers wondered, scowling at his cohorts. "It's not very common."
"Neither is Fox," Langley chuckled.
"Does he like vampires?" Frohike suggested.
"He is a vampire," I answered. "At least, I know he never sleeps at night."
All three of them were quiet, as if waiting for my explanation. "I just liked the name." I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. "What do you think? Could you watch him for a couple of days? I won't lie to you, he can be a pain in the ass."
"That little thing?" Frohike turned and looked up at me, looking more owlish than usual.
"It's common knowledge the younger the infant, the greater his dependence upon his caregiver, and therefore more demanding." I'm not sure if Byers was speaking to me or to Frohike, but if it was me, he was preaching to the choir with that news.
Langley leaned a little farther over the arm of the futon and tentatively touched Bram's foot. "What does he eat?"
"If he's Mulder's kid, sunflower seeds," Frohike put in.
"Which proves he's not mine," I retorted. "He has bottled stuff. Formula. I'll make sure he has plenty."
"He's not eating solid food yet?" Byers asked, surprised.
"Should he?" I asked, equally surprised. "I just got what Scully told me to get. She didn't say anything about solid food."
"Maybe the reason he cries so much is because he wants more to eat," Byers opined.
"And what does the delicious Dr. Scully think of your little bundle of joy?"
"Don't drool on the kid, Frohike," I warned. "I'll ask her when he should be eating more than formula." I recognized the look in his scrunched up eyes. He was getting ready to howl. I moved in and gathered him against me in an attempt to stem the tide. No sense in exposing them to his full volume displeasure yet. "He's got everything he needs; clothes, diapers, bottles, car seat -"
"What about toys?" Langley broke in. "What do little dudes do for fun?"
"Scream mostly, if he's anything to go by," I admitted. "But he's got a few - that lamb, that bear, a crib thing."
"That's not much to stimulate his brain," Frohike complained.
"I wasn't planning to buy him his first laptop 'til next month," I rejoined, bouncing him a little as he started squirming. Come on, come on, please don't cry, I implored silently. Not now. Not - "Ow."
He didn't cry. He shrieked. In my ear.
Langley laughed. "I don't think he wants to wait that long."
"Maybe he's hungry," Byers suggested.
"Maybe he's wet," Frohike said.
Great. Now I've got three male old maids giving me advice. "No, I think it's just me," I answered irritably, bouncing him a little harder, as if that's just what the kid wanted. "He never cries for Scully or Skinner. I don't know what they do that I don't, but -"
"Skinner?" they chorused in varying degrees of incredulity. "Your boss?" Frohike added, for those without a program.
"Former boss, but yeah." I pushed Frohike out of the way, tossed the carrier aside and put him down on the sofa. "He came to check - uh, say hello and he met the kid. They seemed to have a lot in common."
"Same amount of hair," Langley snickered.
"Hey!" I slid my hand over Bram's head. "Don't insult the kid."
Lying on his back, in the middle of all the attention, Bram decided to put on a show. He stopped screaming and just gurgled loudly, his arms and legs bouncing along to whatever song he thought he was singing. Before my eyes all three of them went to goo. Byers was stroking one of his bare feet with a knuckle, Frohike and Langley just watched, with goofy expressions on their faces. What was wrong with me? Why didn't he have this effect on me?
"He's wet." I looked up at Langley, hovering over me. "Could you go in my room and get a diaper off the bed for me, please?" I started tugging the sailor pants away. "Uh, Langley? A diaper? Please?"
Langley moved belatedly, and brought the plastic covered diaper back to me. I felt awkward doing this uniquely parental thing under their curious gaze. Frohike kept putting his hands into the process, like a mother too impatient to let the child finish a task. Byers had lots of things to say about the use of disposable diapers, and Langley just laughed every time the kid wriggled or jerked free of my grasp.
"Here, here, let me," Frohike said, pushing me aside. And then I found myself forced completely out of the way as all three of them got in on the task.
"Fine, knock yourselves out. I'm getting a beer. Anyone else want one?" They didn't hear me. They were too busy discovering how lifelike babies are.
"Hey, he's like a microchip of you," Langley said when I returned from the kitchen.
"Not me...I keep my circuits to myself." I twisted the cap off. "Uh, Frohike, be careful. He has a tendency to ..." I let it go when a golden arc demonstrated Bram's remarkable and almost malicious aim.
Frohike spluttered and rubbed his face with the hem of his shirt. "Thanks for the warning, Mulder," he grumbled.
"Hey," I shrugged and took a swig, "I tried. Is the deal off?"
"No," Frohike's smile was almost as malicious, "I just now know to aim him at Byers."
Well, that set them off. I left them to it. The idea of five minutes to myself was irresistible. I turned around and went back into the kitchen. The room was filled with late afternoon gloom, and there was something comforting and familiar about it. I leaned back against the refrigerator and sucked on my beer, only half listening to Larry, Moe and Curly argue about how to best fit a diaper on an unwilling subject.
I didn't want to think about what they were doing. I didn't want to have any kind of baby related thoughts. But that's all I could think about. Ever since Skinner shoved a plate of Thai food in my hands and asked me what I was going to do if that million - make it billion to one chance came true. I had no illusions about myself. I just don't have what it takes to be a father. There must have been some time in my life when I wanted to do the whole picket fence thing. Why else would I get married? But raising a kid on my own? Anyone I hadn't already convinced I was crazy would be converted if I attempted it.
On the other hand, I'd failed Samantha, or her memory more times than I could bear thinking about. Turning my back on a child related to her was the same as turning my back on her one final time, and I just didn't have it in me to do that.
If ever there was a set of circumstances that defined the expression 'damned if you do, damned if you don't' it was this. If it hadn't been for Scully and Skinner, I wouldn't have gotten more than a two-hour nap since he appeared in my life Wednesday night. I couldn't count on them showing up on a regular basis to keep me from jumping out a window, in a sleep deprived notion I could fly.
"Uh...Mulder?"
I opened my eyes and jerked toward Langley. I knew by his expression that he'd called me more than once. "What do you know," I said with false heartiness, " I can sleep standing up."
"Um...yeah." He looked at me doubtfully. "Hey, the little dude needs another diaper but there aren't any more on your bed."
"Oh, shiiiioooot. I must have run out." I fumbled for my wallet, on the kitchen table. "Listen, could one of you guys run over to Kidsmart and pick up ..." No cash. "I'll have to write you a check." I recognized the expression on his face. It was the same terror I'd felt when Scully told me to run this same errand. "C'mon, someone's got to go. I can't leave the kid here, and I can't take him out." Langley was still staring at me. "I...just can't."
"We'll watch him," Frohike offered from the living room.
Langley and Byers glared at him.
"Well ..." it wasn't the best solution, in my opinion, but it was a solution. "Okay. There's formula made up in the fridge and I'll go really fast." I looked at the kid. He was looking at Byers much the way he'd looked at the bear Skinner had given him, in suspicious fascination. "I'll be right back."
"Hey, don't you even say goodbye to him?" Frohike protested as I reached for the door.
I made a face but I came across the room, muttering, "Scully would appreciate that," and gave the kid a pat on his arm. "See ya." I could feel all three men watching me. Self consciously, I leaned over and kissed the top of his head. It felt weird. But it felt right. It felt weirdly right. "I'll be right back."
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If I thought the parking lot of Kidsmart was intimidating on a Wednesday evening, on a Sunday afternoon it was positively terrifying. It took twenty minutes just to park and then there was that lengthy hike up to the door. But I will concede to a small trickle of relief when I heard that deep chuckle behind me. "Agent Mulder, we have got to stop meeting like this."
I turned around. "I think I've got you profiled, at last. You are addicted to paint thinner."
He almost smiled. "Something like that. Where's Bram?" He followed me inside and this time I was not inclined to shrug him off.
I gestured vaguely. "The Gunmen have him. They're going to be temporary nannies."
His brows went up to where I suppose his hairline once was. "Those three? Is that wise?"
"Not necessarily," I agreed, "but they're my only option at present." I watched him snatch the last available cart out from under the nose of a harassed looking woman with what appeared to be the entire second string of Manchester United behind her. "Do you think six weeks is too young for real food?"
Skinner pushed the cart into the throng. "Definitely too young for pizza and beer."
"Damn," I sighed. "That would make things so much easier."
Skinner steered the cart toward the diaper aisle and put two more packages in the cart.
I stared at him, both irritated and awed. "How did you know that's why I came?"
He looked insufferably smug. "Parents always need diapers. Are you thinking about putting Bram on solid food?"
"Okay," I grabbed the cart, stalling him in the aisle, "in the first place, I am not a parent. I have temporary custody of an infant. There's a big difference."
"Yes," he agreed mildly.
"And secondly...I ..." I gave up. "Byers thinks the reason he cries so much is he wants more than formula."
"Byers, the baby expert?" he asked, turning the cart around.
"Yeah, second only to you in that area," I shot back. "What do you think?"
"Well, let's look." He had wheeled us up to a rack of books and magazines. Scanning the selection, he picked up a disturbingly thick tome entitled Baby Bible and started flipping pages. "Yes, see here?" He turned the book around to display a chart on one page. "Six weeks is too young. But I think he's older than six weeks." He flipped more pages.
"But Scully says -"
"She probably based her estimate on his size. But I think he's closer to three months."
"And you based your estimate on?"
"His overall acuity. The way he lifts his head, the way he tracks movements, the way he reaches for things."
I gaped at him. "He does all that? All I ever see him do is scream and use up diapers."
"He does all that. Maybe you just don't expect him to do anything else so you don't notice when he does." He turned another page. "According to this, he shouldn't have anything but breast milk or formula until four months of age."
"Well, he's out of luck on the breast milk." I resisted an urge to cross my arms over my chest. "Does that book say anything about what will make him sleep through the night?"
"No." He glanced over another page. "But it does say babies have small stomachs so those nighttime feedings are essential." He snapped the book shut. "Byers is wrong."
I reached for the book. "Something to read while I'm not sleeping." I dropped it into the cart. "So, why does Scully say he's only six weeks old?"
Skinner was studying the signs overhead. "Probably because of his size, he is a little small for three months. Aisle Four."
I have no idea why that disturbed me. I felt as if my sister's son's honor had been besmirched, as if it was about to be suggested that he was going to somehow be less than a man. "And what causes that? It can't be genetic, can it?" He started to move and I started to follow him. "I'm the only tall one in my family, but I don't think any of us could be classified as small."
"Any number of things," he tossed over his shoulder. "Low birth weight, failure to thrive. I wouldn't worry about it too much. It's all easily reversible if it's addressed right away."
He didn't stop until he reached Aisle Four, and brought us in front of an altar of assorted prefabricated foods of the baby variety. None of them looked particularly enticing to me. Fruits and vegetables and meats that had undergone all manner of violence and torture, until they were no longer recognizable. "What are we doing with this stuff, if he's not old enough?"
He reached for a box that boasted it was Baby's First Food. "Just getting a second opinion."
I picked up a similar box. "This is what they meant by cereal? I guess that means I won't have to share my Cheerios."
Skinner gave me one of 'those' looks over the edge of the box. "This seems to agree that he's not ready for anything more than formula." He returned the box to the shelf.
I shrugged and put my box back. "Thanks for looking."
He must have sensed my disappointment, because he gave my shoulder a sympathetic pat. "Do you need anything else?"
"Mary Poppins?" I suggested.
"She's on Aisle Twelve."
"Ah." I reached for the cart. "Then I guess that's everything. Thanks again for the advice."
He nodded. "Anytime." He seemed reluctant to go. He followed me up to the line of registers, asking about Agent Scully, and a recent case, and if I'd gotten any more sleep since Friday night.
It took me that long to realize the guy might be lonely. "Listen, I'm not doing anything but walking the floor tonight. Feel like grabbing sandwiches and watching me make a fool of myself with the kid?"
He glanced at his watch.
"Oh, hey, if you have something to do ..." I felt my face getting hot.
"No, actually, I'd love to. But I need to step next door and pick up something. Can I come by in, say...an hour?"
It was my turn at the register. I shoved the first mammoth package up on the belt. "Yeah, that would be great."
"Great," he agreed and started to back out of the horde. "I'll bring the sandwiches."
"It's a date." I stopped, blushing even more. "I mean...sounds good. See you then."
The girl scanning my purchases gave me a knowing grin.
I scowled at her and looked around again. He was gone.
"He was cute," the girl told me, pushing a button. "In a big, growly sort of way."
I wanted to explain to her that there was nothing going on there but two guys trying to take care of a baby. Except, there was more going on. I had...enjoyed watching A.D. Skinner taking charge of things once again. Or maybe I enjoyed discovering a different side of him. Or maybe I just wanted him to come over so I could learn all the verses to Waltzing With Bears. But all I could do was stand there, looking flustered. "He's my boss," I finally managed, handing her my credit card.
Her smile broadened. "Even better."
End Chapter Six