OK so I just attempted to cook a jacket potato and it went so horrifically wrong that I'm uploading this to cheer myself up, if not to cheer *you* up :)

In this part the story actually begins to take shape, and by that I mean: something happens. ENJOY.


SARA VAN DE KAMP II

Hours dripped by like the singsong patter of a broken tap, games were won and lost in fits of tears, presents handed out, cake smeared over the dog, and in pairs of moms and children, the guest slipped through the doors with sleepy goodbyes.

Monica was the last to leave. She and Billy had been chatting back and forth over a pack of baseball cards, which some astute and ridiculous member of the group had gifted him. Billy had no liking at all for baseball, beyond the knowledge that he could hit a ball as hard as he liked. Monica seemed knowledgeable enough, chirping away at the boy about this player or that.

"The hidden sports jock," Jack chuckled as he cleared away the popped balloons from Puck's eager gaze.

"Hardly," Monica parried, "but a friend or two of mine knows a thing or two about baseball, and it's a good conversation starter."

As she transferred the last of the cake from the plate into her mouth, Sara fondly wondered if it had been Monica who'd bought the cards.

"Baby, tell Monica what you want to be when you're grown up."

"A cowboy," Billy proudly said, big grin lighting up the room as he stared up at Monica. "Or James Bond."

"An undercover cowboy," Jack ruffled his hair as he departed the room. "Honey, I'll put Marlo to bed, then clean up the kitchen."

"You're a superstar." Happy with the weight of the cake and the sight of her happy son, Sara leaned back against the sofa, listening to his back-and-forth chatter with Monica about secret agents and cattle ranches.

As Sara had hoped, it wasn't long before Bill fell asleep, sprawled over the open pack of baseball cards. "Today was a success," she giggled nervously. She'd never planned a third birthday party before. As far as Billy was concerned, this was his first ever party, his debut in the world of toddler social gatherings. Sara was quite pleased that he had no memory of last year's: no one had turned up, and Marlo had ruined the proceedings with her newborn wails.

"Sure was," Monica said gently. "He's gorgeous." She rested a hand on his head, flicking aside the hair from his forehead, staring down to that androgynous beauty that could only have reminded her of her own sweet boy, so far away.

"Missing your baby?"

"Something like that," she replied dreamily.

"Did you and your husband ever think of having another one?" Sara said lazily, feeling herself falling closer to sleep. She couldn't rightly remember much about Monica's husband, or indeed even if there was a Mr Reyes out there.

"Not husband. Partner."

"Oh. Sorry. Go on."

"Well, no. With all the trouble with our first, I guess we were too nervous. Y'know. We may do. In the future. Who knows?"

"Who knows indeed?" She waited a while, breathing calmly, watching Monica staring at Bill, feeling that overwhelming pride when someone complimented her son's inherent beauty, for which Sara herself could take no credit, but treasured in her boy much more than she had first thought. "You know. With Billy, I was so nervous that he'd be taken off of me. That I'd slip up and he'd be taken away. That something was wrong with him, or with me, that someone wanted him back so badly that they'd do anything."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I guess I didn't really stop panicking until Marlo came along. It was as if the universe were saying to me 'you're doing a good job, here's another one'. Like karma, I guess. Do you believe in karma?"

"Sure." Monica grinned, "I'm open to the idea."

"I just wish… I don't know. I just wish I could understand what in the world could make someone hand over their baby. Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful every day for Billy, but I can't help but feel guilty."

"Sara you mustn't. There are some things we can't question. Like how William and Marlo came to you, like how my baby boy is sick, like how some balloons pop before we can blow them up." They shared a laugh.

"I wonder what they're like?"

"Who?"

"The women. The women who brought my babies into the world. I know so much about Marlo, but so little about Billy. The most I can figure is… they were driven to something so desperate, so painful, they must have been backed into a corner. Poor dears."

Monica nodded, eyes on Billy. "We've been friends a while now, haven't we?"

Sara thought back, fondly. "Since Marlo came to us. Little over a year now. Seems like such a long time," with this she gestured to Billy, who was a stranger to his two year old past.

"Yeah. And you trust me, right?"

"Of course. Lord, I'm drained." She laid her head back against the sofa, seeing stars on the ceiling as she yawned and attempted to stretch.

"I know the feeling," she was distracted, tracing her hand down Billy's pyjama-clad back. "Listen – Sara. I'm sorry about this."

"'Bout what?" Her voice was thick with the yawns, her throat almost too tired to let the words come tumbling out.

"The way this is going to happen. I thought about how best to work things out, you know, because we're friends. I wondered how I was going to tell you."

"Tell me what?" But an idea occurred to her like a lightning bolt. "Oh Monica, honey. It's not your baby is it? He is doing ok, right?"

"Sure. He's fine. It's not my baby. It's yours."

"What?" She sat bolt upright, and the stiffness of her neck sent pain radiating down her spine. "Marlo?"

"No. William."

"Billy? How do you mean?"

"When he came to you, he had a small bag of things, didn't he? Little soft toy, cute hat, and a small piece of paper?"

"I remember. A little kiss. We still have it; he likes to look at it before he goes to sleep."

"No. It's not a kiss. It's an 'x'." She crossed her fingers in front of her chest to make the letter. "A call for help."

"Monica, are you sure that punch wasn't alcoholic?"

Monica laughed as she breathed out deeply. "Believe me; I'm as shocked as you are. I wasn't certain that she'd written anything at first."

"She? She who?"

"His mother. His birth mother, I mean. The one who gave him up."

"Monica… what the hell is this?"

"Believe me Sara, I'm on your side."

Sara had a sinking feeling that perhaps Monica was not the member of the mommy and baby group that she could trust. "Oh god. You're not from the agency are you? You're not here to take him off me?" The way she'd looked at him, at her, at Marlo, so sad and slow and collected, the way she had touched his hair as though he were breakable… oh god.

"No! Not at all. You're his mom. I want to protect him. And you."

This was all too surreal. "You're not a crime writer?"

"Well… I am. I mean, I tried a novel once. It tanked, of course. Apparently it was too 'spooky'." She stood up sternly, gave a sort of salute to Sara and grinned cheerily. "I'm an FBI agent. Was. Used to be."

"You quit, when you had your baby?"

Monica raised an eyebrow. "I was fired."

"Well. You kept your hidden past secret," Sara grinned. As much as Monica being an ex-FBI agent wasn't something she had ever contemplated, one thing had a knack of leading to another when Billy was involved.

"So what does that have to do with my boy?"

"Hard to say right now. She was an FBI agent too, his mother – we worked together."

"You knew her?" This pricked all the senses of motherhood that Sara possessed, she'd had questions in her mind about Billy since the beginning.

"Yeah, long time ago now though. A lot has changed."

"Is she after him – does she want him back?"

"No. Well, I mean, yes, but that isn't the problem here. Scu – she isn't the one placing William in danger."

"Then who is?"

"Not here," Monica looked furtively at the ceiling, as though afraid that God was listening into their conversation. "There's someplace we can go. Not far from here. And we can talk."

Sara nodded curtly, Monica's anxiety passing to her like a translucent emotional handkerchief, and looked sadly at Billy. "I'd better call Jack down."

"No," Monica blurted, "bring him. I've a car out front. He needs to stay where we can see him. And as for Jack – you can't tell him. At all. Tell him and you make him an accomplice. Just… trust me."

Sara wanted to, oh so badly wanted to trust the only member of mommy and baby to hold a proper conversation with her, but Monica was frightening her. She shrugged, moving to hoist her son into her arms. One thing tended to lead to another with Bill. She figured they'd only be gone a few hours. Back in time for the 10pm news, and Marlo's night-time wake up, regular as clockwork.

Monica moved quietly, gathering up Billy's things at Sara's instruction. The hat, the plush alien, the embroidered pillow, and the framed 'x' – all of which Monica insisted that they needed. She lingered over the pillow, tracing the boy's name, eyes closed as if imagining Billy much younger, having memories of Sara's son that Sara herself did not possess.

"What's her name?"

Monica looked up, angrily, and wiped the tears from her eyes. She stroked Billy's sleepworn hair on the back of his neck. "Dana. Dana Scully." She stared at the boy, two years and four months since his mother gave him up. Sara stared too, eyes looking in new directions, over the red-haired son of two dark-haired southerners. William Scully. That was not her baby's name.


If I were a pirate I'd give you a treasure chest, but as it is I'm not.

I do however have enough Ben & Jerry's to make the world a better place, and that is what I offer to you in return for reading this :D

LOVE & PEACE OUT (: xx

P.S: I'm toying between whether to write the next chapter from Scully's or Reyes' POV... can we take a vote?