TITLE: Secrets Among Socks AUTHOR: Rachel Woods CATEGORY: MSR RATING: R SPOILERS: Okay, this baby contains everything from Three of Kind to Requiem and uses the ideas brought to light in Per Manum. DISCLAIMER: All of the characters herein belong to the creative genius of CC, 1013 Productions and Fox Studios. However, I'm not so sure I want to return them to their rightful place for fear of continued abuse by above mentioned companies. I'll think about it and get back to you. DISTRIBUTION: Yes, just please keep my name and this heading with it. It would also be appreciated if you would let me know so I may come and visit you. SUMMARY: My idea of what happened between the fabled characters in the past couple of years. FEEDBACK: Please. I beg of you. There is no shame in begging... ultimateXFfan@aol.com ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS: Thanks go out to Tam and Kimberly for helping beta. HUGE KUDOS go to ga. Without her help, this story would just be a mess of sentences, commas, and all sorts of confusion. She helped me put everything in all the right places. Thanks to all the members at IWTB for continuing to inspire, for creating a wonderful atmosphere in which to work. Secrets Among Socks He watches silently through the window. If she were to glance outside, she would not see him. It is dark, and he is hidden in the shadows. He watches as she holds up a dress. It's small. So tiny, it looks to be dolls' clothing. But the roundness of her belly tells him that it's not. He is in awe. He feels complete and utter shock to see her pregnant. He had believed that conception was impossible. As he continues to stare in rapt attention, she brings the garment close to her nose and takes a deep breath, and he watches as she gently rubs the fabric against her cheek. By the size of her waist, he would put her near the end of her pregnancy. Has he been gone that long? He thinks back. The signs were there--they just never thought the signs would point to this. He remembers her coming to his room that night in Oregon. She said that she was cold, that she could not get warm. He held her shivering body close to him until the spasms passed. She fainted the following day. Who would have thought it was because she was with child? That she was carrying his child? He recalls how he told her about finding her stolen ova. She had just returned from her jaunt to Nevada with the boys. He still wasn't sure what that trip was about. During their elevator ride to the basement, she admitted that she hadn't accepted the fact that she would never have children. He decided then to come clean and tell her what he had found at Scanlon's clinic. He wanted to crawl into a hole when he told her that the newfound hope of saved eggs was of no use. He stood waiting, not knowing what to expect from her. She looked somewhere past his left shoulder and told him she wanted a second opinion. A second opinion led to a third, and then a fourth, until she finally found an expert who told her what she wanted to hear. Armed with renewed hope, she stood before him, putting everything on the line for one request. So, they tried to conceive. They put their faith, their hopes and dreams into the science that she trusted. She went with him to the clinic his first time. She whispered reassuring words into his ear and left him alone in the sterile room. Later, he stood by her side and held her hand. He remembers seeing her socked feet as they rested in the stirrups. He sat with her after the procedure was complete. He made her laugh. He took her home and put her to bed. He lived at her apartment over the next few weeks. He doesn't remember the exact date that their world came to a shattering halt. It was a Saturday. It was raining. He was on the couch listening for the next boom of thunder when he heard her cry from the bathroom. Science had failed them. It wasn't the first time it had promised answers, and then had been unable to deliver. The next few months had been a little strained. He tried to lighten the mood with a game of baseball. It had gone well. He had been allowed to hold her close. She had never let him get so close before. They had discussed trying in-vitro again. She had one more chance. They made an appointment to meet at the clinic, but an impromptu trip to Africa delayed their plans. Once he was home again from the surgery, she rarely left his side. He was fine with that. He was more than fine with that. He wanted her near him all the time. He told her she was his touchstone. She cried and walked away. That's when he had thought of deepening the relationship. He thought that they could take it further. They were more comfortable with each other than they had ever been before. The experience of trying to create a life had brought them closer. She even laughed more. Her reply after his New Year's kiss had stopped all of those thoughts. She repeated his words to him. She said that if it were to come between them, then she wouldn't know how she could handle that. One heartache at a time, she said. She wanted to keep it business as usual. It was getting harder to do that with the dreams. In the dreams, there was a small girl with red pigtails, green eyes and a sprinkling of freckles across her nose. She was a little princess who insisted on wearing only dresses. The dress was the only thing that would change in the dream. She would shriek with delight as a man with dark hair lifted her high into the air. She would squeal and beg her daddy to do it again. The man would turn around and he'd realize he was the man. He was the daddy. He always awoke from the dream with a feeling of awe, but also with a deep feeling of bitter resentment. He wanted the dream more than he had ever wanted anything. He was more determined than ever to give her what she wanted, what he wanted. The second time they tried, he was more anxious. He knew it was her last chance. It was his last chance. They had gone back to the clinic shortly after they had returned from the Weems case in Chicago. The in-vitro had been a success. They started to feel happy and hopeful. As he looks back, he realizes just how short-lived those high hopes had been. When they passed the four weeks that had marked the end of the first attempt, she had looked at him and smiled. If he had known it was to be the last smile, he would have paid more attention. Donnie Pfaster had come crashing back into their lives. The doctors told them that there hadn't been any complications. They even let her leave the hospital that evening. No matter how many days or weeks later it had been, he believes that the trauma she carried inside from that night caused the complications that resulted in the second loss. He had been waiting in her apartment when she walked in broken and crushed. As soon as she looked at him, he saw the answer in her eyes. He held her while she cried and then promised her a miracle he was sure would never happen. On the way home that night, he passed a children's shoe store. He walked inside and bought the smallest pair of Mary Janes they had. They were made of soft leather, not the patent leather he remembered his sister wearing. They would fit an infant. When he returned home, he tucked them in a drawer and forgot about them. It was a few more weeks until she could look him in the eye. He had been going to her place more and more often, just dropping by for no reason other than to see how she was. She wouldn't cry in front of him. She would never speak of the lost chances. A couple of weeks later, she had been helping him pack for their trip to California. She opened his top drawer to get a pair of socks, and found the Mary Janes. She turned to him and asked why. He told her they were something he needed to have. That they represented all the love he felt for her. He told her that when he found them, he was able to pick them up and feel tangible evidence of something they had both wanted. For the first time in weeks, her eyes met his. They filled with tears and quickly spilled over. He took her up in his arms and kissed her. The packing was left forgotten as they fell into his bed. He had always believed that their first union would be amid a tangle of limbs and sheets, hurried actions that belied the passion in a rush to complete a dance that started long ago. It wasn't like that at all. As they sank to the mattress, they lay quietly, kissing away the tears from each other's cheeks. At some point, they had started softly caressing each other. A touch here, a sigh there. It was all done with reverence. Eventually, a button was popped loose, and when no protest was made, more followed in its path. As he unhooked the clasp of her bra, she lowered the zipper on his jeans. They continued to undress each other in tandem until there was nothing left to remove. Together, they discovered the love and contentment they had sought from each other. Fingers explored flesh, tongues experienced essence, and hearts discovered passion. He stood outside her window in the December chill, warmed with thoughts of that first night. He recalled how they had lain together afterwards basking in the attention one lavished upon the other. He felt the smile begin, as he recalled how she had not hesitated in her lovemaking. She knew how to give and receive. He had always known that loving her would be an experience to cherish. With his mother's death and his sister's memory finally at peace, he had felt free and lost all at once. In his confusion, he had pushed her away and immersed himself in work. He dragged her to Los Angeles to ride with the LAPD, looking for fear that manifested itself into waking nightmares. He knew she had been disgusted with the assignment, and annoyed with the distance growing between them. He remembers how they had been short with each other weeks before she took a weekend trip with his greatest nemesis. They hadn't been that far off-kilter in years. It unnerved them both. He had booked the flight to London for both of them, but when she didn't show any interest in going, he decided it was best to take some time apart. When he returned, they sat on his couch and discussed fate. She eventually fell asleep and he covered her with a blanket. Hours later, he awoke to find her standing beside his bed. She told him that regardless of their recent past, she believed she was where she was supposed to be. She told him that she wanted it to work between them, that she had never felt so desired until she'd seen the love in his eyes. When he tried to answer her, she held up a hand indicating she wasn't finished. As she began to undress, she looked at him and said that she didn't want to cry anymore. She stated that life was supposed to be full of happy moments. She wanted to create good memories that she could reflect back on. Before joining him beneath the sheets, she walked to his dresser and took out the Mary Janes that had become buried beneath the layers of socks. She brought them with her to the bed and studied them closely. She turned to him and said that the love they shared should not be kept secret, hidden among socks. She kissed him gently and then pulled away. When he asked her what she was thinking, she mumbled something under her breath and tried to turn away. He tightened his grip and told her he could help her only if she let him in. She looked back at him and said that she still wasn't ready to give up on the dream of creating a family with him. He looked at her with confusion until she explained that adoption was an idea she wanted to explore. He felt the tears prick the back of his eyes. Before she could see them, he gathered her close and rocked her gently. Within moments, they were locked in a tight embrace, searching for the sweet release of orgasmic bliss. He wasn't worried when he woke up alone the following day. She had left him a note. It was something only he would understand. She had placed a kiss in his palm, the lipstick still fresh. Then, she had lovingly placed the baby shoes in his hand and closed his fingers around them. He looks up when he senses a movement inside the apartment. She walks closer to the window and winds the mobile hanging above the crib. She picks up a blanket, folds it twice, and then places it back into the crib. She stands up straight and gently caresses her swollen belly. She comes closer to the window until she is standing right in front. She reaches for the string to pull the blinds. As she gives a gentle tug, he steps out of the shadows. He becomes bathed in light as he stands beneath a streetlamp. She drops the string and runs from the room, racing towards the front door. He sees her form race past the front window, and hurries his step to meet her. He arrives at her door and quietly waits for her to open it and allow him entrance. He can sense her on the other side. He knows she is calming herself, steeling herself for the moment of truth. Suddenly, the door swings open and she is there. No pane of glass or barrier of a door between them. His eyes hungrily drink in the sight of her. She is crying. The tears roll silently down her cheeks. No sobs, no anguish, no cry is heard. The silence envelops them. She moves aside and he steps through, into her apartment, her sanctuary. He can hear the soft melody from the mobile. He pulls a pair of small Mary Janes from his pocket and hands them to her. She falls against him, clutching him tightly. He closes the door behind him. He is home. END ultimatexffan@aol.com http://www.geocities.com/rachellee7