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 --------------------