Title: First Steps: IV The Necklace
Author: Alanna

Summary: Startled eyes have not yet given way to gurgles and coos, but the baby does not cry.

Everything about him is fresh.

The sticky-sweetness of baby wipes mixes with a new scent that is all his own.

She runs her fingertips over Mulder, letting his cleanness fill her lungs. The diaper change became an excuse for a bath. Her doctor has recommended against immersion until the tearing between her legs can heal, so she perches on the closed toilet lid and watches her lover and her son.

Will's plastic bath seat is perched on a board that straddles the tub, courtesy of the model of ingenuity who washes his child with a soft, soapy puff. His belly glistens with just a trace of water and gentle soap, the black button from the traces of his umbilical cord punctuating his stomach. 'Here is where my mother gave me life while I was inside her.' Startled eyes have not yet given way to gurgles and coos, but the baby does not cry. He must sense the goodness in the room.

Her body feels too soft and weak, even a week after birth. Her pajama top hangs limply at her sides, and her only adornment is the gold around her neck. She wants to climb into the tub with her family, but contents herself with slowly easing to the floor and draping her legs to ease the soreness between them.

Dipping a hand into the warm water, she raises it to Will's head and christens him with tiny drops, then moves the hand to his father's chest. Long, sleepy breaths press into her palm.

Predawn birds chirp outside the open window. Life goes on outside their little universe.

Their bodies are slowly getting used to new schedules. Will awoke with a wail at half-past five, his diaper wet and his belly growling. Mulder changed him with a growing skill, then played with his toes as she fed her baby there in the bathroom. In a perfectly Mulder move, he sniffed at his arms and began running the bathwater, creating the baby contraption so his son could join him.

She stays alert enough to watch that Will's little bridge holds, but she lets herself relax into the moment. A week of experience has taught her that they have another fifteen minutes before they'll need a diaper to prevent mess, so she lets her child fall into sleep.

Mulder turns his face and watches her, his bedroom eyes full of a new warmth. She remembers a dozen baths before Will's birth. Making love to Mulder as water splashed the floor tiles. After he returned to her, lying in the tub with him as he rubbed her belly and the hot water eased back cramps.

He lifts his hand and traces the outline of her necklace, his soapy fingers sliding over her collarbone. She knows the bit of gold's meaning for Mulder. As she held him earlier, Will played with it, his movements little more than faint scrapes over her skin. His fingernails are impossibly tiny.

They don't speak much in moments like these. Perhaps years of silent communication have given way to a new language consisting of glances and smiles and nods. They stay quiet for the baby's sake, but their own brand of companionship supersedes words. She and her lover are here together, and that speaks more than collections of letters ever can.

Words can wait.