Blood of Abraham - Chapter Fourteen

by Mik

I woke up naturally for the first time in ten days. I opened my eyes slowly, and took in unfamiliar surroundings. A room that was inhumanly tidy; furnished sparsely, and decorated moreso, a room couldn't be more like a foot locker without having a lid and a padlock. It didn't surprise me. Everything about Skinner was utilitarian. Except...I rolled over and tested the air with one hand...leather bars. Smiling, I tugged the blanket free and wrapped it, cape-like around me, and slid from the bed. I needed to work that into conversation somehow.

Poking my head out the door of the study, I sniffed. No, it wasn't my imagination. There was fire and coffee close by. I pulled the blanket tighter around me, and used my investigative skills to find the kitchen again. As I had surmised, Skinner was up, a fire was crackling in the hearth, and coffee was being prepared. He was standing over a small table in the corner, frowning, and as I stepped further into the kitchen, I could see he was frowning at Bram's car carrier. "Did he cry all night?" I whispered.

"Not at all." Skinner's face seemed shuttered, his words unusually measured, even for him. "Did you sleep well?"

"I slept," I answered. "That counts." I shot a hopeful look toward the coffee maker. "It counts for a lot."

"Good." He was still staring at the carrier.

I moved around the table. Only then did I see that he had been staring at an empty car seat. I remembered our conversation of the night before and I didn't need to ask what he was doing. My God, the memories that must be flooding him. I jerked away from the table and pulled two black enamel mugs off a cup tree on the counter. "How do you like your coffee?"

"Black in the morning," he said, pulling himself together. "What would you like for breakfast?"

I held out one of the cups. "You don't have to worry about feeding me. I'll just -"

"Mulder, it's still blowing outside," he pointed out impatiently. "You'll just stay here and endure my company." He took the cup. "If not for yourself, then at least for the baby."

His tone was colder than the blizzard. I wondered if he resented having revealed so much about himself recently. When he told me he was gay, he pulled away sharply after the revelation. At the time, I thought he was angry at the stupid way I handled the information, but it occurred to me now that, perhaps, he feared rejection and whether consciously or not, pulled away before he could be pushed away. It was hard to think of Skinner being in any way fragile. It made me uncomfortable. "Well, thank you again for the rescue, and not just for the baby." I filled another cup. "And where is the baby?"

"Upstairs." He nodded in the general direction of the stairs. "I thought I'd get breakfast started before he woke up."

"I can't believe he didn't keep you awake all night," I said, half incredulous, half resentful.

"The key is to take care of him at the first sign of distress," Skinner explained, his manner still distant but his voice slightly warmer. "Before he gets worked up enough to cry all night."

I sniffed at the coffee. Better than mine, not quite as good as the Gunmen. "You know, I was taught in shrink school that kids need to learn self comforting as early as possible. That responding immediately sets a child up to expect instant gratification."

Skinner said a word.

I nearly spit coffee.

"What kind of doctor would encourage a parent to let a helpless baby cry all night?"

"I didn't say -"

"And what does that set a child up to expect?"

"I only meant that -"

"It's outrageous."

"Geez, Skinner, take it -"

"What kind of parent could just sit there and let a helpless baby cry all night?" he was still fuming.

"A very tired parent," I answered honestly. "Skinner, I'm not suggesting that the parent fail to meet the child's physical needs; changing, feeding, that kind of thing. But sometimes, studies indicate, a baby just needs to cry. And having met Bram, I believe they're right."

"There's nothing extraordinary about Bram."

I cocked a brow at him. "You don't think so?"

He started to speak, caught himself with an exasperated sound and shifted to conciliation. "He's a fine baby, Mulder, and you have every reason to be proud of him, but I don't think he's got magical powers or alien properties."

"So...you don't think being able to recite Julian oratory in the original Latin is something to be concerned about?"

He jerked an incredulous look at me. "He...what?"

I laughed. "I'm kidding." I took another drink. "I think there must be something extraordinary about where he came from, but the only extraordinary thing about him is that he doesn't like me."

"What's extraordinary about that?" Skinner said over the rim of his own cup.

"Oh, thank you."

Skinner looked at me directly, the first time all morning. "What makes you think there's something extraordinary about his origins? He's your son. You must have -"

"No, that's what's extraordinary." I had a feeling I was about to blush. "Scully's ruled out Diana and we're trying to get a line on a woman in California, but that was three years ago or more."

"There are all kinds of explanations, Mulder."

"Yeah? Name two."

He dismissed the challenge with a shrug. "The point is that he is your son. And someone knew it. One must assume that someone knows who his mother is. Sooner or later, you'll find out. What are you going to do in the meanwhile?"

"I don't know. I mean, obviously, I'm going to keep him, although he'll probably end up in therapy, write nasty books about me, and sue me for damages. I guess I need to go about making it legal, though." I emptied my cup. "I should see someone about adopting him."

He cocked a brow at me. "Why should you adopt your biological son?"

"Oh...right." I frowned into the emptiness. "How does one go about becoming the legal parent of one's own child?"

His expression seemed to indicate it was the simplest thing in the world. "If you could find his birth certificate, you'd just need to present the DNA evidence and petition to have your name put on the birth certificate."

"That's a big 'if', Sir. If you recall, the kid didn't come very well equipped. There was certainly no complimentary birth certificate included in that package. Scully's trying to match his footprint to hospital records, but so far, no luck." That odd suspicion rippled through me again. "The kid has to have a mother, right? There's no way he could have two fathers."

Skinner was doing something within his refrigerator, but I saw him freeze for a moment. "Not two biological fathers, no."

"Well, I mean, I know science is advancing all the time, and -"

He shut the refrigerator door. "There is science and there is science fiction. Let's try to stay in the realms of reality, shall we?" He put a carton of eggs, and a tray of bacon on the counter. "His mother will be found. Until then, you have more important things to consider."

"Have I?" I stepped out of his way. "What is more important than finding his mother and/or how he came to exist?"

"Many more practical considerations." He pulled a bowl from a cupboard and a wire thing from a jar full of wooden spoons.

"For instance?" I prompted.

"For instance," he paused to break an egg into the bowl with one hand, "you can't stay in that rat trap you call home. Not with a baby." He broke another egg, making me want to protect my own. "And you need more reliable daycare than the Three Stooges."

"They've been pretty reliable so far," I countered defensively. "And they seem to really care about him."

He waved a third egg at me. "And what happens the first time you get sent into the field? Do you really think those three would stick with him for a week while you're chasing goonies and unicorns in Arizona?"

I grinned at him. "Goonies and unicorns?"

"Stay focused with me, Mulder," he said sternly, applying the wire thing to the egg mixture with authority. "You need to hire a nanny."

"A nanny? You mean a Mary Poppins, spoonful of sugar, spit spot nanny?"

"I mean someone who is there, available at any hour to care for him if you're called out on an assignment."

"Oh, sure...and I'll just keep her in the broom cupboard 'til I need her." I went back to the coffee maker and filled my cup.

"Another reason to move. You're going to need a room for Bram soon, anyway." He pulled a copper bottomed pan down from the rack over the stove. "Suppose you wanted to … entertain a guest? You wouldn't want him in the bedroom watching that, would you?"

I snickered. "I haven't 'entertained a guest' in so long, I wouldn't know what to do with one. Bram would probably be driving by the time that eventuality presented itself. Unless, of course, I hired a really hot nanny," I suggested brightly.

"I'm glad you're taking this so seriously."

"I am, I am," I said, trying to sound serious despite the ill concealed laughter. "I know you're right. Except, of course, about the unicorns. They prefer a cooler climate."

He shot me a narrow eyed glance.

I lowered my head contritely. "All of your suggestions are valid, Skinner, but I'm a lowly field agent. Unless this kid comes with a trust fund, there's not a lot I can do about changing our living arrangements for the present. I'll figure something out."

"You could always move in with someone else," he told the butter melting in the pan.

"Oh, yeah, I'll put a notice up on the bulletin board in the employee lounge: wanted, house to share. Special Agent with cranky infant of suspicious origins, and nanny, to move in and take over your life. I'll get lots of offers."

"Well," he hovered over the word, as if trying to find the matching word to place next to it, "for all that, I have plenty of room here."

Now, why didn't I see that coming? I would have ducked. Instead I just stood there and let it slam into my chest. "Yes, well..." I put my cup full of coffee down. "Do you have a broom cupboard big enough for the nanny?"

He nodded toward the door on the far wall.

I looked at it. "I was kidding!"

He slid a knife out of a large wooden block and began to chop onions. "I wasn't. Go on. Open it."

I didn't, of course. I was a little beyond those 'made you look' jokes. "Oh, well, then it's all settled."

"Go on," he repeated. "Open it."

With a sigh of protest, I accomplished the steps across the kitchen floor and opened the door with a yank. "Oh, yeah, room for a nanny, or two. Or...hey." I looked in. "Hey, what is this?" It wasn't a cupboard at all. It looked like another bedroom.

"Butler's quarters," he explained. "All the units in this building have them. I just don't happen to have a butler."

"And yet, you should," I murmured, stepping into the room and looking around. It was bigger than my bedroom. "A man like you needs a butler, Skinner."

"I'm willing to make the sacrifice," he said, dumping onions in the pan. "We'd have room for a nanny, and we could convert the den into Bram's room."

"Uh huh." I was feeling a bit claustrophobic. "And where does that leave me?"

"Guest room, upstairs."

"Oh, yeah, you have a guest room." I came back into the kitchen. "Where's the indoor pool?"

He gestured with the knife. "Downstairs. Community gym and spa. I had you sleep downstairs last night so, in case Bram did cry, it wouldn't disturb you." He started chopping mushrooms. "It's very simple...you and Bram move in here, you can pay me rent and the nanny's salary, and I'll take care of everything else."

"And what do you get out of this?"

He scowled. I don't think the mushrooms had done anything particularly wicked, so it must have been meant for me. "Who says I need to 'get' anything out of it. You need more room. I have plenty of room. Why not?"

"Because I make you crazy enough at work. I don't think there's enough room in the world for us to live together." And besides, I added silently, sooner or later I'd want to see you in leather and that wouldn't be good for the living arrangements, or the working arrangements, and just might interfere with the sleeping arrangements.

He adjusted the fire under the pan. "With a few rules, and a little respect and judgment, we ought to manage."

"That lets me out." He didn't smile with me. "We're both used to being on our own."

"'Used to' doesn't always mean enjoy, does it?" He put the knife down, for which I was immensely grateful. "I miss having a family around. I miss the fellowship, the comfort of another spirit in the place. And I just might be good for you, at least as far as Bram is concerned."

"There's no doubting that," I conceded. "But...I don't know, Skinner...living together? I mean...what would people think? I just don't get into that 'gay daddy' image."

He picked up the knife again. "It was just a suggestion."

"And one I appreciate," I said clumsily. "I do, it's just that -" I never thought I'd be happy to hear that kid cry, but at that moment I could have kissed him for his timely wail. "There's Bram." I started for the stairs.

I'd never been in Skinner's room, but it was just what I expected. Severe and simple. Bed, reading chair, treadmill. No television, no personal effects. No color. Where I did not decorate for lack of feeling a need for a permanent personalized space, he did not decorate because he kept everything personal locked away from view. He was this way in his body, in his home, his feelings.

Bram's basket was in the middle of his wide bed, and it was wiggling and emitting sounds of impatience and protest. I let the blanket I'd been wearing drop to the floor, and climbed up on the bed to look inside. Bram had been taken from all the layers of clothing I'd had him in, and was down to a diaper and one of those mystifying straitjacket type cotton thingies that Scully had said was a tee shirt. Didn't look like any tee shirt I'd ever seen. With its straps and snaps it looked like a cross between something stylish at the nearest psych ward and a punk rave. "Who did this to you, huh?" I asked, lifting him from the basket. "No wonder you're crying. I'd cry if I was stuck in something like this." I held him against me. "Yeah, I know." I settled down into a sitting position and rocked him awkwardly. "How'd you sleep, hmm? I didn't hear you once last night."

Bram surprised me by letting his rigid body relax and sort of mold against mine. He was still crying, but it was different. Or maybe I was different.

I slid an exploring finger under the edge of his diaper and encountered moisture. "You need to be changed, don't you?" I looked around. I couldn't put him down on the bed, or the floor. So I put him back in the basket while I rummaged through the bag in the corner to come up with another diaper, and a clean onesie. "Here you go. Hush. No need for that awful racket, huh? Is that any way to behave as a guest in someone's home? You be sure and thank Uncle Skinner for rescuing us. He just might have saved our lives last night. I don't know if you noticed, but it was pretty cold last night."

He did save our lives, there was no 'might' about it. And now he was trying to do it again. Why was I resisting? I couldn't be so shallow that I'd resist the perfect living arrangement just because I worried what some old broad, who needed to have her nose lowered, might think. I wasn't resisting the 'gay daddy' thing. I was resisting Skinner. Because if we spent much more time together, I might do something really stupid and start having feelings for the Stone Man of the Seventh Floor.

Bram's crying slowly faded to softer whines of protest as I got him out of the wetness and bondage. He was almost quiet by the time I lifted him out of the basket again. "Let's go see Uncle Skinner and find you a bottle, hmm?" Maneuvering the steps with my center of gravity compromised by holding the kid was a new and arduous experience, but we made it down on our feet and not our butts, so I considered it a success, and brought Bram into the kitchen, which was full of sizzles and crackles and mouthwatering smells. "Look, Bram, it's Uncle Emeril."

Skinner turned from the stove and gave the kid a genuine smile. "He's got bottles already prepared in the refrigerator," he told me. "Oh, and Agent Scully called."

I nearly dropped Bram as I was putting him into his car carrier. "Here? Why? What did she want?"

"She called your mobile." He nodded at the instrument, now on the table next to Bram. "I hope you don't mind I answered it. With this storm, someone might not be able to get through again, and if it was an emergency..." he shrugged and went back to the eggs.

"No, that's okay." I had to smile to myself, wondering what Scully would have thought when Skinner answered my phone. "Is she having fun?" Especially after her warning earlier in the week.

"She didn't say. She was concerned for you as she tried several times to call you last night. I assured her you and the baby were safe and told her to enjoy her weekend."

I picked up my phone. "I should call her back." Bram was making faces at me. When I looked up, Skinner was making faces as well. "After I feed him." I paused. "After breakfast," I amended and pulled a bottle out of the refrigerator just as if I belonged there.

Skinner put a little pot of water on a burner for me.

I let the bottle slip down into the pan. I'm not sure why, but it was unbearably intimate to stand next to him at the stove. I backed away sharply. "I left his things all over in your room. I'll take care of that after I feed him."

"Don't worry about it, Mulder." He tipped the contents of the pan onto a plate and handed it to me. "Eat. I'll feed Bram."

Worry about it? I was starting to worry quite a lot. It could get very comfortable here. Here was a guy who cooked, cared, had convictions...I could so be in love.

End Chapter Fourteen

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