Blood of Abraham - Chapter Five

by Mik

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.

There was a sharp rap at the door. I wanted to ignore it, unwilling to let anyone in to disturb my one chance for a little uninterrupted unconsciousness. I didn't need any more of Mrs. Holden's advice and if it was actually Scully stopping to apologize on her way down to Quantico, she had a key and I knew she'd use it. I sank back into the pillows and closed my eyes.

But the rapping continued, increasing in intensity and volume, and fearing that whoever it was might wake the kid, I got up, muttering, and went to the door. If it was anyone short of a fireman ready to rescue me from a building fire, my plan was to shoot first, finish my nap and then dispose of the body.

I didn't shoot.

Even in this day and age it is considered bad form to shoot your former boss, unless you work for the postal service or any place in Detroit. Since I did not do either, I just stood there. "Skinner," I said, nonplused. "Umm...hello, again." He was coming in. I could move or be flattened. "Come in, won't you?"

"I heard you were sick," he said, not stopping until he was all the way into the living room. "For you to miss two days without hospitalization is extraordinary. And today I heard Agent Scully say you were having trouble breathing. So I thought I'd stop by and see if – good God, Mulder, you look terrible. Maybe you should be hospitalized."

"No, I'm okay," I promised, trying to smooth down my uncombed hair. "Just haven't been able to sleep the last few days." I looked at my sofa meaningfully. I wanted him out. Immediately. "Would you like some coffee?" Well, what else could I do?

"No, thank you, and you don't need any either, if you're not sleeping," he decreed, coming closer and letting those miss nothing eyes go over me. "Have you taken anything?"

"Yeah, I..." I looked toward my bedroom door. Had I just heard the kid starting to wake? "Scully gave me something."

Skinner took a step nearer. "You look as if you have a fever." He pressed his wrist against my brow.

I backed up from the contact, startled. "No, I'm fine." I took several steps away from him.

He frowned at me. "You really don't look well," he said, watching me pace. "I can't help being..." he stopped.

I turned to look at him, and followed his fixed gaze. Shitshitshitshit.

He took the few steps required to pick up the large blue bear seated at my desk. "This looks familiar," he murmured dryly. He looked over his shoulder at me. "Scully's nephew?"

I can lie with the best of them when required, but I don't lie for the practice and I hate like hell being caught in one. What gripped me at that point, however, was more than chagrin. There was a sickening panic swirling in my shame. What would he do if he knew? I knew damned well what he'd do. This was the guy who didn't take a leak without reviewing protocol. "No." I let out the breath I'd been holding. "But possibly mine."

He reacted physically. "Your son?"

"No!" I protested. "I mean, no, my nephew."

"But your sister..." he let that go and sent his eyes around the room. "Where is he?"

I gestured behind me vaguely.

He went into the disaster that was once my bedroom. He looked inside just enough to ascertain there was a live, human baby inside. He looked back at me grimly. "Perhaps you'd better explain."

I did. Well, I tried. I gave him the basic facts as best I could given my sleep deprivation and watching him for any reaction that might require me fighting him for a telephone.

It was hard to tell. He stood in the doorway, his face impassive. When I finished my somewhat disjointed explanation, he moved farther inside, disappearing from view.

I was paranoid enough to follow him, half expecting to catch him in the act of confiscating the kid. But he was just looking down into the crib. "There is a resemblance," he conceded.

I muscled past him to pick up the photo on the bedtable. I handed it to him.

He looked at it and then at me. "This is you?"

I pointed at Samantha. "And that's my sister. And that..." I pointed at the lamb, "is..." I reached into the crib, "this. It disappeared the same night she did."

He tipped the photograph up to the light and then looked into the crib. "The resemblance is undeniable. But, Mulder, you can't -"

"I can. I'm covering all the bases," I broke in desperately. "I've got a babysitter for next week, I've checked with M & EC, and Scully's doing a DNA test right now." I think the desperation made my voice a little ragged. "I'm not going to lose him in the system, until I know he's not my sister's kid."

He handed the photo back to me. "That's all very admirable, Mulder, I'm sure, but what I was going to say is you can't take care of a child if you drop dead of exhaustion." He looked at my bed, which had been turned into a triage for baby care. Gathering things up in great armfuls, he marched out to the living room. When he returned, he collected the last pile of things. "Show me where you're keeping diapers and bottles. I want you to take a nap."

"But I -"

He was going out again. I followed him. "Not that I don't appreciate the gesture, Sir, believe me. I doubt being delivered proof of aliens in the White House would tempt me as much as a nap right now, but... no offense, Sir, I don't really believe you quite understand how determined I am to keep him until any relationship is ruled out."

He was making neat piles on my sofa, but he stopped, his eyes narrowing. "You think I'm going to take him away while you're sleeping?" he suggested quietly.

"Well... yes, Sir. I do."

He straightened, and pulled his gun from his holster.

"Whoa." I backed up, hands up in front of me. "Wait a minute. I don't think that's called for."

He kept coming 'til he had me backed into my bedroom. Then he pushed past me and, checking the safety, dropped his gun on the bed. Then he pulled out his keys, held them up for me, and dropped them on the bed. Then he produced his wallet. And that went on the bed as well. Then, scooping up all three, he lifted my mattress and pushed them all underneath. "Now, if you want to make sure I don't go anywhere, you'd best keep your ass in bed."

That was a pretty impressive display. But I wasn't entirely convinced it was the right course of action. "Have you ever taken care of an infant, Sir? They're pretty demanding."

He smiled as he pulled bedclothes back and arranged my pillow. "I've taken care of you for years. No one could be that much more demanding. Now," he pressed a finger into the mattress, "you sleep. I will stay here and keep him maintained. That's a direct order."

"Sir, you don't -"

He straightened in that menacing way of his. "Do you want me to prove I am capable of caring for him by demonstrating my diapering and feeding prowess on you?"

I made a face. "Okay, that was just creepy." I held up my hands again, this time in conciliation. "But I get the message. Me nap." I slipped past him gingerly, and got one knee on the bed. "This is me, napping."

I'll be damned if he didn't just stand there until I was completely supine, with the blanket pulled up to my chest. With a little smile of triumph, he backed out. "Pleasant dreams, Mulder."

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It was dark when I woke. Completely dark. The streetlamp outside my window must have gone out again. Then again, maybe the streetlamp wasn't outside my window. I sat up, rubbed my eyes, and looked around. I was in my bed, in my bedroom, in the dark. I slid out of bed, and stumbled to the door, glancing into the empty crib, as I did.

Empty.

I jerked around and slid to my knees at the side of my bed, shoving my hands under the mattress until my fingers brushed over things. Wallet. Keys. Gun. I started breathing again.

Back at the bedroom door, I paused before opening it more than the crack it had been left, and listened. I could hear Walter Skinner moving around my living room. I could also hear something else, something disturbingly alien. Singing. Deep, soft singing. I listened to the words for a moment, and was compelled to smile. I pulled the door open, and moved into the light.

He had shed his suit coat and dress shirt. Those gun barrel arms of his were exposed by the sleeveless tee shirt he wore. And those gun barrel arms of his were wrapped around a small blue bundle with dark hair. I shook my head. Evidently, even grown men will get gooey over a baby.

He swung around, and paused. "Sleep well?" he asked pleasantly, and continued his perambulation around my living room.

"Uh, yeah." Something was going wrong in me. I was experiencing a little bit of irrational jealousy. I didn't want him holding, carrying or singing to Bram. "Thanks for letting me catch a few z's. I hope he was no trouble." I came across the room to take him.

"Far less trouble than you ever were," Skinner assured me, still moving.

"Oh, thank you." I tried to move into his path, but he moved around me. "I'm sure you've got a chesterfield or something to spackle, so if you want to just hand him over..."

Skinner kept moving. "He's almost falling asleep again," he murmured.

"Again? Why does he sleep for everyone but me?"

"He didn't sleep for me," Skinner assured me, and hummed a little bit more. "He woke up just after you went to bed."

"That was..." I looked at the VCR, "almost five hours ago. You should have called me."

He passed me again. "Nonsense. We've been changed and had a bottle and a good chat."

"'We'?" I scowled at him. "What is this, am I supposed to chase you? Just give me the kid and you can go."

"I don't think so." He smiled and altered his path, moving toward my bedroom.

A moment later he reappeared. "Out like a light," he announced. "Ready for some coffee? Something to eat?"

I dragged my fingers through my hair, looking at my bedroom door. "You know, if I didn't know better, I'd think you were having fun."

"And why not?" He came out of my kitchen with a cup in his hand. "Here. I ordered Thai. Would you like some?"

I took the cup and sniffed. Smelled like real coffee. Real good coffee. "Why are you being so nice about this?" I called after him as he went back into the kitchen. "If this happened under your watch, I'd be on a seventy-two hour hold, and Bram would be halfway to -"

"'Bram'?" He came back with a plate. "Interesting name. I wonder why they named him that." He set the plate on my coffee table. "Well, no more interesting than Fox, I suppose."

"I named him Bram." I looked at the food. "And don't change the subject."

"I didn't realize I had." He returned to the kitchen. "We were talking about the baby."

"No, we were talking about why you're being so tolerant and helpful about the baby."

He leaned out of the doorway, looking down his nose at me. "Aren't I always?"

I gave up and sat down. The smell of food on my empty stomach was too great to ignore. I reached for the fork and spiked some smoky noodles. "Seriously, what's the catch?"

He had brought his own plate and was standing over me, working his fork. "No catch. I've watched you struggle with the mystery of your sister's disappearance for as long as I've known you. I've also seen just enough happen to you and Agent Scully to accept that, impossible as it may appear, there is a miniscule chance that this child might, somehow, be related to you. You're clearly making every effort to do what's right, just short of turning the child over to authorities, so I'm willing to cut you a little slack." He took a bite, paused, swallowed, and looked down at me. "A very little."

I admit it, I was touched. "Thank you, Sir."

He nodded and chewed. "Have you given any thought to what you'll do if the child does prove to be related?"

"Honestly? No." I reached for my coffee. "Keep him, I suppose. Adopt him? Although, I seriously doubt that there will be any official record of him anywhere to start adoption proceedings." I had a sip. It was good. "Anyway, I'm not going to just satisfy my curiosity, pat the kid on the head and introduce him to the wonderful world of Child Welfare. I'll figure out something."

Skinner's mouth pursed up around noodles. "You can't keep him here."

"No," I agreed on a sigh. "This building has a no kids or other pets policy."

"You definitely need a bigger place. Better neighborhood." He scraped his fork along the plate. "Good schools."

"Harvard, maybe?" I suggested wryly. "I could take him to England. Oxford was good for me."

"I'm just saying, Mulder, that you can't raise him here."

"Well, first of all, I don't know that I will get a chance to raise him, or even have the right. Second of all, when either one of those things occurs, I'll worry about finding a better place." I shoveled in another bite.

"There's one or two larger units in my complex," he said, taking his plate back to the kitchen. "Three bedrooms. A den."

I let my chin drop against my chest. Just what I need, exchanging Mrs. Holden for Walter Skinner. "Uh..." I raised my head just in time. "That's a little out of my price range."

"You could always get a roommate," he proposed. "Or get married."

"Right. I'd be a pick, wouldn't I? I can't manage to stay married on my own, much less with a kid in tow." Okay, dangerous territory, back up quickly, Mulder. I put my fork down. "Let's table this discussion until after I know if it's necessary."

He reached for my plate. "Did you get enough to eat?"

I frowned at him. "Yes, thank you." What the hell was this Father Dearest act? "I really appreciate you letting me get some sleep," I called after him as he carried my plate away. "But I shouldn't be keeping you anymore... especially on a Friday night," I added as he returned.

"Oh, don't worry about it." He picked up his shirt from the back of my desk chair. "I didn't really have any set plans tonight, and it was..." he pulled his shirt on, "fun." He started working buttons. "It's been a while since I've held a baby."

"Fun." Now there was a word I had yet to ascribe to my experience as a pseudo dad. "Does he seem... you know... normal to you?"

He draped his tie loosely around his opened collar. "You mean... does he levitate or invoke curses in Latin?" He smiled at me patiently, as he reached for his jacket. "Relax, Mulder, he seems like a healthy baby boy. I really don't think he's an X-File."

I looked down at the table. "Nothing's an X-File, these days."

I felt his hand on my shoulder. "Things change, Mulder. They always change."

I looked up at him, wondering what he was trying to tell me. "Well, thanks again for the help."

"My pleasure." He vanished into my bedroom, and returned, tucking gun, keys and wallet into appropriate places. At my front door, he stopped and looked back at me. "Good luck with the DNA test."

"Yeah, thanks." I stood. "Wait a minute. Which way would be considered good luck?"

He smiled again. "That's for you to decide. Goodnight."

I rubbed my gritty eyes with both hands. My former boss, Walter Skinner had spent five hours babysitting a kid who may or may not have been genetically engineered from the DNA of my missing sister. And he left, smiling about it. That kid was an X-File.

I took my cup back to the kitchen, and rinsed the plates and cups and put them in the dishwasher. In the drainer were two bottle casings and two nipples. Under the sink was a plastic bag of a size and shape that suggested they contained biohazardous material, so he evidently had changed the kid at least once. In my bathroom were two soiled towels and the yellow thing I'd put the kid in earlier. And he still had time to order Thai, make coffee and sing songs. No wonder he was an Assistant Director.

I heard a soft sound from my bedroom. It sounded sort of like... merfff. "Oh, sure, you were a little angel for Uncle Skinner but the minute he's gone..." I looked down into the crib. He was still asleep, just shifting and sighing in the process. "Uncle Skinner," I repeated softly, and began to hum.

And then to sing.

"He goes wa-wa-wa-wa waltzing with bears. Raggy bears, shaggy bears, baggy bears, too. There's nothing on earth Uncle Walter won't do, so he can go waltzing, wa-wa-wa-wa waltzing, so he can go waltzing, waltzing with bears."

End Chapter Five

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