Subject: Abah X: A Vignette by Susan Proto
Date: Sat, 26 Sep 1998


Category: Vignette, Angst, MSR, Mag/Sk Romance
Rating: PG13 for language
Spoilers: Through Season 4

Summary: Keeping memories in perspective at the time of a new birth

Archive: Yes

Disclaimer: Chris owns 'em, I'm just borrowing 'em. I'll give 'em back.
Later.

This continues after the events of "Abah IX: The Birth." There is
continuity time line from the first story in the series to this one, so I do
recommend you read Abah I-IX first. There will be some black holes in this 
one that may only be filled in by the previous stories in the series. 
Besides, this is my totally gratuitous means of groveling and begging for
feedback on any and all of my "Abah" stories.

The site addy for Susan's Garden (courtesy of the incredible Shirley
Smiley/Web Mistress Supreme of MTA) is:
http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Chamber/4819/index.html

And thank you Vickie, for giving this one a few of your very precious free
moments!

Thanks in advance for all of your kind words, past and future.
Please send e-mail comments to: STPteach@aol.com

Abah X: A Vignette
by Susan Proto (STPteach@aol.com)

He stood and watched her, awestruck, as she cooed and coddled the small
bundle of pink. It had been many, many years since he'd heard that kind of
tenderness come from her.

He'd forgotten how loving she was capable of being. He'd forgotten how
loving a mother she was to Samantha.

Never to him. She'd always kept her distance, both emotionally and
physically, from him. It was the best way to prepare for his departure.

She was, however, a candidate for 'Mother of the Year' when it came to
loving the Samantha.

As he watched her cradle the wriggling newborn, he marveled at how she was
able to show those feelings again without reservation.

He was also, admittedly, a tad envious.

And jealous.

He didn't really want to believe he could possibly be jealous of a day old
baby, especially _this_ baby, but he was. And while he attempted to banish
such ridiculous thoughts from his mind, he realized someone was addressing
him.

Talking. To him.

And he shook his head slightly as if to remove the cobwebs which had
suddenly formed around his brain. Finally, he heard the voice repeat, "Do you want
to hold her?"

He looked at the woman holding the child so, so carefully. She was truly a
beautiful grandmother. Her hair was silvery white, and her eyes were a deep
blue which smiled as easily as her lips. She began moving toward him with
the baby still in her arms.

"You look tired all of a sudden, Dear. Perhaps you'd better sit down if you
wish to hold her," she suggested firmly.

He sat. He was tired all of a sudden, and he honestly didn't know if it was
such a good idea for him to hold her at this moment. He feared he might
drop her. Stranger things were known to happen.

But she placed the infant in his arms anyway, and she took his hands in her
own and curled his hands around the child securely. He looked at his large,
clumsy hands, as one wrapped firmly around the baby's torso while the other
instinctually supported the small, slightly elongated head.

He realized she was only a day old, and time would certainly improve her
appearance, but for now, he couldn't help but think of how ugly she was. He
remembered the day Samantha was brought home from the hospital. He hadn't
gone to the hospital to see her; he was told he'd have to wait to see her at
home.

So by the time Sam was brought home, her head had bounced back to its
normal shape, her coloring had not been nearly as mottled, and her hair hadn't
stuck up quite as high as Sarah's was sticking up at this point.

He concluded newborn babies were truly butt ugly.

But a miracle all the same.

He allowed himself the luxury of taking his trembling fingers to trace the
child's face. He felt her forehead, her cheeks. He tenderly traced the
baby's ears, and then her nose and cheeks. Finally, he gently outlined her
sweetheart lips.

He raised her chin ever so slightly and swore she cooed to him. Elizabeth
insisted it was nothing more than gas. Just the same, he liked to think she
cooed to him.

He sat for several minutes with the precious commodity in his lap. It
frightened him to think how valuable others would see this baby. It
frightened him a great deal.

So much so, his hands began to tremble more noticeably, and in an attempt to
deflect his worries, he coughed lightly to clear his throat.

The baby, however, felt the trepidation and began to cry.

"_ I_ need to take her, now."

He looked up to the source of the voice. He shook his head incredulously
as he watched the transformation right before his eyes.

One minute he found himself looking at a slightly askew figure, who leaned
far too much to one side in an attempt to compensate for the affected other
side. Yet, as the figure awkwardly walked over towards him, he watched the
transformation occur. He watched the figure grow slightly taller, slightly
straighter, and exude much more confidence.

He heard the voice now say, firmly, and assuredly, "I need to take my
daughter now, Jack."

He looked up at him, and wondered when exactly the change took place.

When did the cripple become whole again?

Stein lifted the child towards her father. Mulder reached out to take his
baby in his arms.

Stein sighed with relief, as it had been a long time since he'd held an
infant; since he'd held his own daughter, Samantha. He remembered being
grateful for having his memories to fill the days of her absence. He
embraced those memories with love.

He prayed Mulder and Scully would be so lucky.

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