AUTHOR: Rae
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@hotmail.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

all of my stories can be found at:
http://www.oocities.org/rachellee7/fanfic.html

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