Title: Like Minds
Author: phileandforget
Date: November 20, 01
Category: Vignette
Rating: G
Archive: Yes!
Spoilers: Existence, Season Nine
Key Words: Reyes, William, babysitting
Summary: While Scully and Doggett are out seeking answers, Reyes 
and little William amuse themselves by playing in the nursery…
Author's Note: See end.

Like Minds
phileandforget

The room is small and softly decorated to appease an infant's 
waking tears.  The eggshell blue curtains are half-drawn, letting 
in a sliver of streetlight that cuts dully across the room, 
reaching all but the furthest corners.

In the middle of the room is a large bed covered in scattered 
papers and files, and in the middle of that is a young woman 
holding a baby.  A bassinet is set up beside them, but for the 
moment, he nestles in her arms like a little chick, draining a 
bottle of warm milk.  He makes sucking sounds and gurgles, to 
which she replies with soft coos and soothing nonsense.  She 
herself is sucking on a piece of candy that has stained her mouth 
a little darker pink than usual.  It compliments her grey suit 
and pink blouse, but the whole effect is out of place in this 
nursery.  She ought to be wearing something softer, more maternal 
- but she is not the mother.  Rather,  she is but an impostor, 
thrust unexpectedly into the position of caregiver – she suspects 
they will both be a little relieved when the real parent returns.

Eventually, the nipple slips from the baby's mouth and his eyes 
follow suit.  Tenderly, she traces the round form of his tiny 
face, which is framed by the first wisps of hair.  Her finger 
trails down to his forearm as it extends from his little jumper 
suit, and around his miniature hand, insinuating itself in its 
young grasp.  Instinctively, the hand clenches around her finger, 
which is almost as thick as his wrist.  She feels so terribly 
large at that moment.

It occurs to her that this child is not ordinary, that he is 
perhaps more unique - more significant to humanity - than any 
child born since Jesus Christ.  He is the first of a new 
generation of humans, if what she was told is true.  He is thus 
infinitely dangerous, but simultaneously, in need of her 
protection.  She vows to protect him.  Whatever it takes, she 
pledges her life to this tiny boy in her arms.  He seems 
oblivious to her rush of emotion, but the fingers curled around 
her clench more tightly.  He is so like her, she muses - and so 
like his mother.  But so unlike anyone who was ever born…

Loathe to replace him in his crib when he is settled so 
comfortably, she leans back against the pillows, getting 
comfortable herself.  She also doubts that he is quite asleep, 
and uses this as an excuse to steal another few minutes of 
maternity.  His own mother is out hunting shadows, chasing down 
the demons that have plagued her since his miraculous birth.  It 
is all for his safety; his mother is terrified for it.  They all 
are, but especially Dana.  She knows that he is special - to the 
human race, to the project - but more than that, he is special to 
her.  He is her everything, and she is his.  The baby's father is 
also out hunting - answers, incredible and elusive - but on a 
separate mission to his mother.

Sighing softly, the woman glances back down at the baby's 
delicate features.  He must be asleep by now, she thinks, and 
with a gentle wave of regret, decides to let him alone.  He has 
been tired out by her impromptu babysitting; old enough to play, 
too young to know the rules, she has been playing with him all 
night.  Her favourite game is "make-believe," pretending so many 
fantastical things.  Among them, pretending that he is her own, 
that he is "normal," that he understands the implicit danger, 
desperation, of his existence.  Pretending that she can protect 
him from the world he has been born to save.

As she settles him in the nest of his bassinet, she takes longer 
than necessary to arrange his pillows, pull up his light blanket 
and snuggle beside him a little toy alien.  Finally, she is 
satisfied that his comfort is of the utmost, and returns to the 
bed to resume her reading.  The files are perplexing and similar; 
she knows she is too tired to focus, yet forces herself to read 
on.  It is nearly two in the morning, and like a mother, she 
waits up anxiously.  For a moment, she recalls the days when her 
own mother would wait up for her – at least this late – she was a 
terrible teenager.  The thought comes to depress her, though, 
when she realises that at her present age, her mother had been 
child rearing for several years.  She forces her attention back 
to the files.

Presently, a noise catches her attention.  She tries to ignore 
it, as she has finally managed to absorb herself in the case 
files.  It continues though, and frustrated, she glances around 
for the source.  None becomes apparent, until she glances over at 
the crib.  Above it, suspended from the ceiling, the mobile is 
rotating slowly.  There is no air current to move it, either from 
the closed window or low heater, or any other source.  It appears 
to be turning of its own accord, and with each clockwise 
rotation, creaking loudly.  It is really getting on her nerves.

Monica glances over and after a moment, the mobile slows to a 
stop.  Then, ever so gradually, it begins to turn in the opposite 
direction, and satisfied, she returns to her reading.

End

Author's Note: Just a little scene that came to me tonight – hope 
you like it.  It was inspired by a post on the Haven Boards, 
regarding the "special gifts" of William, Scully and potentially 
Reyes. All feedback gratefully received at webmaster@withinrach.com