Title:  Within the Heart of a Mother
Author:  Char Chaffin
Category:  MSR, Babyfic Vignette
Rating:  PG
Spoilers:  Light ones, for "Requiem"
Disclaimers:  They're not mine!

Thanks to:  My awesome Beta-Goddess Foxsong, who just loves to 
egg me on when I get quirky...

Author's Note:  Mothers often fantasize; really they do!  Ask 
any mother, and she'll tell you no lies -

Summary:  A page from the life of a child-to-be...


"Within the Heart of a Mother"


On the day you were born, the rain blew cold and dark against 
the windows of my room - and I promised you a safe haven from 
every storm, as I held you naked and still-wet from the 
birthing, here in my arms.  I felt the struggle within you; that 
first fight for life-giving breath - and vowed I would be 
willing to draw breath for you, if need be.  I looked into your 
newborn eyes and swore I saw understanding there, as I whispered 
to you of my endless love and pride; for what you already were 
to me - for the person I knew you would become.  And I sent a 
prayer to God and all the Heavens that you would always be 
protected from the awfulness of this sorry world.  You blinked 
up at me and I swear I saw you nod in contentment, right before 
your eyes closed and you suckled yourself to sleep, there at my 
breast.  I held you much too tightly that day; the day you were 
born - but it felt right to me.  Your father and I kissed you on 
your tiny face and I fell asleep holding you, your father's arms 
about the two of us.  Both of us safe, in his embrace - both of 
us.


When you were three years old, you asked me if you could have a 
puppy.  I looked down into your sweet blue eyes and smiled, 
thinking what a serious little child I had helped to produce - 
yet knowing with certainty that you were already old enough, 
smart enough to take care of a dog.  Three years old and going 
on ancient - I honestly felt that way about you and your 
uncannily-adult ways.  Your father was not as sure of your 
ability to care for a dog, although you had already proven 
yourself several times in just the small ways you showed us each 
day, of your maturity.  He gave in, though; just as I knew he 
would.  The dog was named Butter; I remember how fuzzy and sweet 
she was - and how much you loved her.  You took very good care 
of her; I remember that as well. Your three-year-old hands 
ladling puppy chow into her bowl; water into her dish; letting 
her out the back door to tinkle, and taking her into your little 
girl's bed every night.  Butter knew she was loved, deeply - 
just as you knew how much we loved you.  Even that early in your 
young life, you were impressive.


School-aged and precious in a little navy pleated skirt and 
white blouse - off you went to catechism, on a huge old bus 
which looked as if it would fall apart any day now; the bus 
driver's name was Daisy.  You would very politely intone, "Good 
Morning, Daisy," every morning, just as you placed your small 
foot on the first rung of the step - and her broad smile, and 
her answering, "Morning, Li'l Gal" would boom around the windows 
of that bus, and only then would you step carefully up and into 
the bus, and sit down in the third row, left side.  Always the 
left side... for even then, you were a very precise child.  
Butter would stand next to me, her tail wagging in rhythm with 
my own waving hand, as we watched you rumble on down the road.  
And we both worried, all day; knowing you were as safe as 
possible, there in Sister Tonette's class... as safe as you 
could be, when not under our watchful eyes.  Your father thought 
we were so silly, Butter and me... but I would catch him 
glancing from his watch to the road, when three o'clock came 
around.  And I knew he worried as well. He would never in a 
million years admit it... but I knew.  And so did Butter.


When you were ten you broke your leg roller-skating - and I was 
the child who cried in your arms, beating myself up for not 
being there to keep you from falling; for not stopping you from 
flying full-tilt down Potter's Hill in the first place.  Butter 
had run behind you, barking her head off; later her whining and 
scratching at the back door was what alerted me - and she led me 
to you, lying still and white-faced with pain, there on the 
cracked sidewalk.  I fell to my knees and burst into tears, 
thinking I had failed you; that when you needed my mothering the 
most, I wasn't there for you... and your young arms curled 
around my shoulders and you became my comfort, instead of the 
other way around.  I remember I cried all the way to the 
hospital - and you told me silly puns and riddles, trying to 
distract me from my feelings of guilt.  So adult, once again - 
and I was so very proud.  You wanted me to be the first to sign 
your cast... and I did so with tears blurring my vision.  Your 
father carried you home from the hospital, teasing you about the 
'fat white leg' you had grown... and as you laughed together I 
tried to let the guilt fade away.  Broken bones were a childhood 
necessity... you were the one who told me this.  You know, your 
father and I learned a lot from you.


At twelve you had already started to blossom into the beginning 
of the amazing young woman I always knew you would become; and I 
would stare at you sometimes, thinking I was the most fortunate 
of mothers, to have helped to create such a wonderful child.  
Lovely, intelligent; strong and independent, with a definite 
mind of your own - my child; your father's child.  My eyes, and 
his hair; a combination of his single-minded strength of purpose 
blended evenly with my pragmatic stubbornness; his height and my 
delicate physique - at twelve you already towered over me.  I 
loved having to look up at you; it tickled me to think we had 
grown such a tall, sweet flower.  It seemed that you were ever 
graceful; I sensed none of the standard awkwardness of 
adolescence so evident in the giggling girls you brought home to 
play with - and they all looked up to you, in more ways than 
one.  Boys flocked around you from sixth grade on; attracted not 
only by your beautiful face but also the beauty which shone from 
within; they could see just how special you were.  Of course, 
your father and I had always known.  It gladdened my heart to 
see we weren't the only ones who noticed.  Your father threw 
daily fits regarding the boys who called at all hours of the day 
and evening... I tried very hard not to laugh at him, for he had 
a difficult time accepting the fact of his baby's growing up.  

At sixteen you had your heart broken for the first time; your 
father wanted to smash his face in, but what good would that 
have done?  You needed to feel this pain; a prelude to adult 
reality.  His name was Bradley and he trod upon your tender 
emotions quite deliberately, although you took part of the blame 
for his actions.  You claimed you forgot to return his phone 
calls a few times.  Your father called him a lightweight for 
getting his nose out of joint over a few forgotten phone calls, 
and I remember that between your tears of hurt and 
disillusionment you hugged us both and for the first time told 
us how lucky you felt to have us as parents.  Of course we were 
the lucky ones, you know - having you as our daughter.


Today I adjust the veil upon your dark, thick hair - and I know 
I have never seen a more beautiful bride.  In just a few hours, 
your father will walk you down the aisle of St. Matthew's, where 
you were baptized and confirmed; Sister Tonette will be there, 
as will several of the other nuns whose lives you touched so 
sweetly while you were growing up.  Your husband-to-be is a very 
fortunate young man, and he knows it - knows just what a 
wonderful woman he is getting.  I fight back the tears of joy 
and pride, as I prepare to give you to someone else for safe-
keeping; knowing your father and I have done our best to teach 
you as much about life and love as we could; confident that you 
will learn the rest as competently as you have learned 
everything else in your young adult life.  I see a bright future 
for you, my beloved child... and I feel blessed and honored that 
your father and I were afforded the opportunity to keep you safe 
and protected for these past twenty years.  Alone again, your 
father and I will have a chance to get to know each other once 
more; for as much as we love each other, a heavy portion of our 
relationship went into raising you - and we were so thankful to 
be able to do it.  We'll miss you, and we will still worry about 
you - but you are in excellent hands now; deep in the heart of a 
good man who loves you the way your father loves me - and I can 
tell you from experience that it's the very best way to be 
loved...


*********************************************


"What are you writing, Scully?"  He had come up behind her as 
she sat in the rocking chair, writing neatly and precisely into 
a pale pink journal.  She smiled up at him and pressed a kiss 
upon the large hand which had cupped itself around her shoulder.

"A love letter to our child, Mulder... would you like to read 
it?"  She handed it to him as he sat on the edge of the bed; he 
took it from her with a tender smile, humoring her a bit, she 
knew - but that was all right with her, she thought.  He read 
through the written pages with serious intent, then looked up at 
her quizzically, a half-smile of indulgence on his face.

"Scully, our baby's not even born yet, and you've got her 
married off to some guy who would probably not come within a 
fraction of deserving her! And who says I'm going to let her get 
on some rickety old bus driven by someone named 'Daisy', of all 
people!  And I've MET nuns like Sister Tonette; God!  She'd 
probably rap the kid across the knuckles for being left-
handed... and who's this Bradley punk?"  His voice dropped off 
at the rich, low chuckle she sent into his ear; she'd risen from 
the rocker and had come to sit on the edge of the frilly daybed, 
close to him, while he was ranting.  She kissed him gently and 
took one of his hands, pressing it to the swell of her rounded 
belly.

"She's kicking, Mulder... feel it?  She wants to come out and 
play with Butter... she wants to see her parents."  His frown of 
disbelief wasn't lost on her; it was all she could do not to 
laugh out loud.

"Scully... we don't HAVE a dog named Butter!"  He was getting 
indignant; she just smiled and kissed him again, a little more 
deeply; their unborn daughter kicking vigorously now, between 
them on the little daybed in the pretty nursery they'd just 
finished decorating earlier in the week.

"But we will, Mulder... in just a few years, we will."  He 
huffed into her ear, and stared down into her loving eyes.  And 
wondered how on earth she could know any of this when their 
child was still a month shy of being born.  She met his stare 
with another brimming smile; before he could even ask her, she 
gave him the answer.

"I just know, Mulder... maybe because I want that sort of life 
for our little girl, so much.  A dog named Butter and happy 
school days with the gentle nuns of St. Matthew.  Of course, I 
made up the rest... the roller-skating and the gaggle of 
girlfriends, and the boys all in love with her... but you never 
know, do you?  You just never know."  Scully's earnestly 
pleading eyes bore into him as she struggled to explain.  

"Normal, that's what I want - after all you and I have been 
through... nothing grandiose, or some fairy-tale existence - 
just the sort of things most families need to have.  All the 
months you were gone, I tried to keep myself from going insane 
by imagining... what she'd look like, smell like.  I knew how 
she'd feel in my arms, five seconds after birth - knew what I 
would want us to say to her."  She wiped at a lone tear that 
escaped from the corner of her eye.  "And when you weren't 
returned to me, and the weeks grew into months... I began 
writing little bits of it down, so I wouldn't forget to tell you 
when at last I saw you - of the marvelous life we would give our 
child."  One huge sniff against his comforting shoulder, and 
Scully was ready to smile impishly into Mulder's face.  
"Besides... at least I waited for you to actually come home 
before I wrote the scene which marries her off!"


At Mulder's helpless rumble of laughter, she hugged him; fitting 
her large tummy quite nicely against him. Felt him snuff a final 
chuckle into her hair as he hugged her back; rocking her a bit 
as they sat on the little daybed there in the pink and white 
nursery, and cushioned their pre-child between them.  A future 
imagined, all within the heart of a mother - he really did 
understand, for he'd done a bit of that same imagining himself, 
during those dark days not so very long ago, when he'd come into 
some semblance of awareness, of who he was - and where he 
belonged. His imaginings had centered more around the mother 
than the child, as yet unknown to him - still, he could relate.  
Mulder hugged her tighter and kissed each of her eyes closed; 
felt her mouth curve against his skin as he whispered to her.

"It's a good life you've planned for her, Scully - very good.  A 
puppy named Butter and giggling girls and adoring boys - and 
Sister Tonette, God help me... in my present mellow mood I could 
even accept Daisy the bus driver.  But please, no broken leg!"  
He shuddered and Scully giggled softly, holding him close, 
warming his soul.

"Well, you'll just have to keep her away from Potter's Hill, 
won't you - Daddy..."  That softly-spoken paternal nickname made 
him crack a huge grin, as he gazed down at the world he held in 
his arms.

"Scully, enlighten me... where exactly is Potter's Hill, anyway?  
Guess I'd need to know that, if I'm gonna save our daughter from 
a 'fat white leg', right?"

"I'm not sure, Mulder... but I'd bet it's a great hill to live 
nearby.  I haven't imagined quite that far, yet - but we still 
have one more month to go; think of the plans we can make!"  He 
nuzzled along her soft neck as he considered her words.

"Oh, I'm thinking, Scully... better believe it."


end

Feedback makes me continue to imagine... email me, at 
char@chaffin.com

Please visit my web site, at http://char.chaffin.com


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
'Believe the Words...'
http://char.chaffin.com