TITLE - Father of the Year
AUTHOR - Weasel
FEEDBACK - Good, bad or ugly. I can take it.
zippyweasel@yahoo.com

SUMMARY - A babysitting job goes horribly awry. Never trust
Krycek when he says, "Just a couple of weeks."

TIMELINE/SPOILERS -- Between Biogenesis and AF/6th Ext. If you
think hiatus was long for you . . .

CATEGORY - S

RATING - PG-13 for language

ARCHIVE - Gossamer yes, all others e-mail for permission

DISCLAIMER -- The characters and situations reminiscent of the
X-Files belong to CC, 1013, and FOX. No money is being made off
of
this. As a matter of fact, I may have to start doing some
babysitting on the side.

Notes and thanks at the end . . .

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*


Esmeralda leaned forward toward the mirror to better
contemplate her latest acquisition in personal expression.
Her eyebrow stung and was somewhat swollen this morning,
but everything looked healthy so far. She dabbed some
alcohol and gently wiggled the two little silver hoops
that glinted back at her in the mirror.

She'd spent $450 yesterday in four hours. She went to a
great shop and had her hair cut and dyed, along with a
manicure and her little treasures up there on her brow.
Then she'd stopped at the baby store and bought clothes
and a couple of blankets for Lydia. She had wanted to
buy a play pen but the card was maxed out.

She scowled at herself in the mirror, remembering the
prim smile from the sales clerk in the overwhelmingly
pink store, as she told her the card was denied. She
couldn't believe he had given her a card with such a low
limit. She was ready to chew his ass for it when he came
by today. If he came by today . . . he hadn't been here
for almost a week.

The credit card wasn't the only thing they were going
to talk about. She was also going to tell him that he
needed to find a new babysitter.

Esmeralda had been flunking out at the University when
her cousin had offered her this job. It had seemed like
a miracle at the time -- $1,000 a week plus expenses.
"Just a couple of weeks," he had said. But now it had
been almost two months and she couldn't go on like this
much longer. All alone in the house all day with a baby
and she wasn't allowed to take her outside or invite
anyone over. Just she and the baby and the television,
all day every day. She needed to go back to school. This
was one fucked-up situation and it was time for it to change.

Her reverie was broken by a frustrated wail from the
bedroom. She put away the alcohol and rinsed her hands,
then headed toward the mournful sound, feeling fleetingly
guilty for her dark thoughts.

"Oh, Baby Girl," she cooed as she walked toward the crib,
"I didn't mean you. I meant stupid Alex and this goddamn
apartment." Lydia looked up at her with big gray eyes
rimmed with tears. Esmeralda lifted the baby up out of
the crib, and sat her upright in the middle of the big bed.
She tottered for a second, but appeared to stabilize. "But
we'll show him, won't we . . . we'll max out the credit
card."

She tucked a towel under one arm and the baby under the
other and went back to the bathroom. She put Lydia's
yellow plastic tub under the bath faucet and started
filling it with water. Lydia's face scrunched up at the
sound and she started whimpering. "Please, Lydia, it's
just water. It'll go faster if you cooperate." Lydia
hated the bath and would probably break into a full-scale
howl before they were done.

Esmeralda stripped the baby and then turned off the water
before sitting her in the tub. Lydia continued to fret as
Esmeralda soaped up a rag.

As she swiped the washcloth around the creases in Lydia's
chubby little legs, she was once again amazed at how fast
the baby had grown. When Lydia first arrived she had been
very small. Esmeralda had assumed that she was only about
two months old. But she had grown quickly and was now
sprouting teeth, not to mention sitting up and trying to
talk. Weird, thought Esmeralda. She must be closer to
six months now. Esmeralda had tried to make some
determination using the milestones suggested in the baby
book, but she soon gave up. Lydia was ageless, she'd
decided.

She was also currently screaming blue murder. "Lydia,
it's not that bad," she scolded as she gently washed the
strange marks on Lydia's chest. The ones on her back had
disappeared after two weeks. Alex insisted that it was
nothing. "Remind me to nominate him for father of the
year," mumbled Esmeralda as she poured clean water over
the furious child.

As soon as she pulled Lydia out of her tub and wrapped
her in a towel, her cries subsided. By the time she had
her on the dressing table Lydia was laughing and pointing
at her.

"Oh, you think it's funny, do you?," said Esmeralda,
batting at her with a small blue terry cloth rabbit.
"It's cute that the neighbors think I'm abusing you just
because you don't want to take a bath? You little
manipulator."

Esmeralda dressed Lydia in a new pink tailored suit from
yesterday's shopping excursion. They were settled on the
couch watching the soaps when the bell rang thirty minutes
later. Esmeralda pushed the intercom button. "Who is it?"

"Let me up," came the curt reply.

She narrowed her eyes at Lydia. "Ooooo. He is so cocky,
isn't he? Well he just doesn't know that we have new
clothes on today and are dressed for battle." She buzzed
the door to let Alex in and then swung Lydia up onto her
hip. "We are going to lay down the rules today, aren't
we?" Lydia shrieked her agreement and thrust her hand
in her mouth, exposing her two teeth and releasing a
runner of drool. "That's the way, Lydia. You go girl;
you show him those teeth. We don't want to have to bite
you Alex, but we've got the teeth to do it."

She plastered a fake smile on her face as she pulled the
door open for him. No sense offending him right off the
bat. "Alex. Welcome. We're glad you could stop by."

He stepped by her into the apartment. His boots tapped
out a distinctly male beat on the linoleum in the entry
way and his leather jacket creaked as he dropped a large
duffel bag down onto the floor.

"Hey," he said, then did a double-take. "What did you do
to yourself?" he said, pointing to her face.

"I went *out,* Alex. You know, outside where there is
fresh air, other people. New fashion trends to be kept
up with."

"So the lady came to clean?" he asked as he began to unpack
the bag in the kitchen.

"Yes, she did." She put the baby down on a blanket in the
living room and moved to help him. "Where the hell did you
find that woman. . . she doesn't even speak English and
she puts cabbage in everything." Esmeralda stepped in
close and grabbed Alex by the arm so that he was forced to
look at her. "I didn't want to leave Lydia alone with her,
but you know. It's been two months. I had to go out."

Alex held her gaze with calm green eyes for several seconds
before responding. "O.K, " he said. "So . . . you had to
go out. You went out."

She dropped her eyes first. He was so incredibly impassive
and she felt her strength for the coming confrontation
wane. "There had better be some beer in that bag."

He reached in and pulled out a six-pack.

"There had better be more than that," she said.

"You're 19. You don't need to be drinking beer. And
you're taking care of a baby."

"Al-ex," she whined. "You haven't been here for five
days. . ." Her tirade was cut short by an answering whine
from the living room.

"Did you hear that?" she said as she went to pick up the
baby. "She said, 'Al-ex,' That's what we do, isn't it
Lydia," said Esmeralda as she settled the baby onto the
kitchen counter. "We sit around and talk about what a big
dummy Alex is." Lydia squealed her delight at finally
having been allowed to join the conversation. Krycek
looked at the baby, who was babbling with glee and pointing
three drool soaked fingers at him.

"She's getting big," he said. "What is that hat?"

"That hat?" said Esmeralda, feigning shock. "Alex, it is
an outfit. Look. Who does she look like?"

Alex froze momentarily as he put the beer in the fridge.
"What do you mean?"

"Look at her," said Esmeralda, giggling as she put Lydia
on the floor and helped her to stand up. "She looks exactly
like a famous person . . . who?"

He stashed a few more things in the fridge and then turned
and looked down at Lydia, crossing his arms over his chest.
Esmeralda straightened the hat and wiped a runner of drool
with what she hoped was a clean towel.

"Barbara Walters," said Alex.

"Oh, God, No!" shouted Esmeralda. "Jackie Kennedy, you
loser."

Alex studied Lydia, who had started to babble along with
the raised voices. "You're right. Jackie Kennedy, how
could I have missed it?"

"She sits up," replied Esmeralda, demonstrating by sitting
the baby on the counter. "She has two teeth, too," she
said rubbing her nose against Lydia's forehead and slipping
into baby talk. "And she really wants to talk, don't you
Liddie? You want to say, 'Hey Alex, what is the goddamn
plan?' don't you?" Esmeralda did not get the flinch she
was hoping for, so she decided to try the next tactic.
"Here, take her. I'm going to drink a beer. And she's
probably going to want a bottle soon."

Alex managed to get the baby transferred to the crook of
his arm, before Esmeralda dove for her beer. She was
halfway through her first by the time Lydia began to cry.
Alex looked at Esmeralda, and she met his gaze over the
upturned bottom of the beer can. "Bottle. Fridge" she
mumbled between sips.

He lowered the baby to the counter, and arranged her legs
so that she could sit up, then turned to look for the
bottle.

"Alex, that baby is going to fall on the floor. She can't
sit up and cry at the same time. She just started two days
ago," said Esmeralda as she moved to the fridge. "Sitting
up, that is." She pulled out another beer and handed a
bottle of formula to Alex. "Pop that in microwave."

Esmeralda moved into the living room with her beer, trying
not ton feel guilty as Lydia's crying developed into a
furious howl. Let him deal with her for five minutes; she
was his baby. She physically shuddered at that thought.
She hoped it was his baby.

"Don't burn her. Test the bottle on your most sensitive
skin," she shouted when she heard the microwave timer sound.
A few minutes later, Alex came into the living room with
the baby and the bottle clutched in one arm and a towel
slung over the other.

After a moderate struggle, during which Esmeralda helpfully
pointed out that even two arms were not enough, Alex and
Lydia got settled in the chair and the baby's cries tapered
off as she began to eat. It seemed a shame to break such
a lovely peace, but Esmeralda was determined that Alex was
not going to leave here tonight until they made some
decisions about the future.

"Alex, we need to talk."

He pushed the cloth down under Lydia's chin to catch a
deluge of drool before it landed on his jacket. "So talk."

"I can't do this much longer. You said it would be a
couple of weeks and it has been almost two months."

He nodded. "I don't want this to go on any longer than
necessary. I thought two weeks would be enough, but there
have been some complications." He dropped his eyes to the
baby, shifting her so that she was lying down. "It won't
be much longer."

"Can you give me a guess? I want to go back to school next
semester."

He shrugged at her. "That sounds like a good idea. And
with the money you've made so far, you should have a very
nice college fund."

"Yeah, I could go to fucking Harvard," she laughed, half
due to the beer. "Hey while we're on that subject . . .
the Visa is maxed out -- get me a real credit card."

"What did you spend $2,000 on? I hope you haven't been
having a lot of stuff delivered."

She leaped up out of her seat and started advancing on him.
"Oh, Daddy, this shit is expensive. And trust me, the prices
won't be going down. Don't even think about getting cheap
on me."

He raised a hand a motioned her to sit down. "I don't
think I've been cheap. If I underestimated some expenses,
fine. I'll get you a 'real' credit card."

Esmeralda dropped back down into the couch. This was
totally ridiculous. She didn't want a credit card; she
wanted out. He had said two weeks. Who the hell hired a
babysitter for two months?

"Alex," she said. "Whose baby is this and are they looking
for her?"

He looked down at Lydia who had emptied the bottle and was
now waving it and kicking impatiently. He lifted her so
that she could stand and she promptly began to shriek and
reach out her hands to him, laughing in a weird little
chuckle that Esmeralda always suspected was an imitation of
her own laugh. A short laugh escaped his lips. "Don't
worry. You won't see her picture on a milk carton."

"But is she yours?" Esmeralda continued.

Alex dropped his head back against the chair and she
noticed how dark the circles were under his eyes. He
looked like he'd aged about five years in the past two
months, and Esmeralda began to think that maybe he was
concerned; maybe he was trying to do the right thing after
all.

"She might be mine, she might not," he said quietly. "Doesn't
help much, does it? Yes, people are looking for her.
The same people who put her in the shape she was in when
she got here."

Great, though Esmeralda. So now I'm the bad guy for
wanting out. "Alex, whatever happened to her is in the
past. Why don't you think about the future for once?
Who is going to take care of this baby? Because I can't do
it anymore."

"I'm trying, O.K.?" said Alex, his voice rising dangerously.
"What do you think I've been doing? I've been trying to
get some help with this, but then people started going
crazy and people started leaving the country . . . and
now it's just you and me for a while."

Esmeralda stood up and crossed the room in three strides.
Alex and his conspiracy bullshit were beginning to wear
thin. She pulled Lydia away from him, resisting the urge
to scold her. She gathered the bottle and towel and went
into the kitchen. Lydia promptly began to howl when
Esmeralda unceremoniously dumped her into the high chair.
She paced three circles around the kitchen before she
pulled a chair up next to Lydia and tried to calm her down.
It didn't take long; Lydia didn't really want to cry. She
wanted to hang out some more with their visitor.

A few minutes later Alex came into the kitchen. "I have
to go. I'll come by tomorrow with some cash to tide you
over until I can get another credit card."

"Alex, you come back tomorrow with a plan. Because
sometimes I get the idea that you actually don't have a
plan. If this is your baby, and thank God she doesn't look
a bit like you, you need to decide how you are going to
raise her."

Esmeralda picked up Lydia and walked over to Alex. "She
and I have spent a lot of time together. I consider her
my friend. She deserves better than this."

"I know," he said, dragging a hand over his face. "It
won't be long. Maybe one more month."

"If you don't have a plan Alex, then I have one. Find a
family that is looking for a child and give her to them.
Look at her," said Esmeralda. "My god, she looks like
Jackie Kennedy, she is smart and cute and happy. There
are people who would give anything for this baby."

Two fat tears slid out of her eyes, to her complete disgust.
"She thinks I'm her mom. I just have this creepy feeling
that someday she is going to hate me for this."

Alex pulled Esmeralda into a clumsy embrace and she let
her tears fall against his leather jacket, hoping that
the salt water would ruin something. "Esla, you're doing
a great job. I can't tell you how much I appreciate this.
I want her to have a normal home . . .she will have a
normal home, soon. But for right now, trust me, she is
lucky to be here. She is lucky to have you taking care
of her."

After a few minutes, Esmeralda pulled away from Alex and
dried her face on a towel. "You're so full of shit," she
muttered half-heartedly.

"Just hang on a little longer. I'll stop by tomorrow."

His footsteps retreated from the kitchen and a moment later
she heard the front door open and close.

"Oh, Lydia. You poor thing," she said moving into the
living room. She laid down on the blanket with Lydia and
began to flip through the channels. "He is impossible.
He acts like you're a goldfish instead of a little girl."

Lydia rolled onto her stomach with a delicate swing of her
leg. She pushed up onto her arms and once she made eye
contact with Esmeralda, a wide, gummy grin spread across
her face.

"Okay," said Esmeralda. "I can't fight both of you.
I'll stay here with you for one more month." She brushed
Lydia's wispy hair into a little curl with her fingers.
"But I swear, if he doesn't find you a real mom in another
month, I'm leaving you on a doorstep in a basket." Lydia
squealed in agreement.

"I'm sure there is a nice family out there somewhere that
can nurture you out of the horrible genetic makeup you
most likely have."

****
end
****


My utmost gratitude goes to Laura for pulling this little
orphan back from the brink of the recycle bin. Her
suggestions and comma patrol are greatly appreciated.

My inbox is always open for feedback:
zippyweasel@yahoo.com


--------------------
A Weasel in the Chickenhouse
http://www.netsys.hn/~mwetzel/files/fic.html
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