Mary
by
Disclaimer: I don't claim. Talk to Jason Katims, UPN, WB, etc.
Summary: When the aliens receive news that a little girl, who hasn't yet been born, will save the earth, what must they do?
Rating: By chapter.
CHAPTER SIX--PG
Kyle
I don't know what the hell I'm doing. But that's what the midwife is for, or at least it's what I keep trying to tell myself, mostly to keep myself from being scared shitless, I'm sure.
Isabel's been watching me for a while now, and I know she's trying to decide if she wants me to stay while Mary's born, but I don't give any sign that I know. I want to stay, but the last thing I want to do is make Isabel uncomfortable, so I pretend that I don't know why she keeps looking up at me.
Silently, though, my heart cried with joy when she grabbed my other hand a moment ago, clenching her teeth and holding me in a death grip, trying to get little Mary into the world. All I can do for her is be here, and I'm glad that she's allowing me that much. I was really afraid that she wouldn't.
About five minutes later, Isabel cries out for the first time. It's just a little sound, but it's a cry of pain, and since it's the first real sound she's uttered, my heart clenches. I know she's in real pain, and I wish Max could help her, but I understand completely not wanting to have her brother here with her during this time. Besides, what would we do about the midwife?
Isabel never screams. She cries more and more as Mary comes closer to joining us, but never does she shriek. That's like Isabel, in a lot of funny ways, actually. For long periods of time, she doesn't let the world know her pain, and then when she does, it's in a calm, rather orderly manner more often than not. That's how we knew how mad Max made her this last year, when he refused to let her leave Roswell.
Mary's head crowns thirty-five minutes into Isabel's active labor, and the rest of her follows pretty quickly. She's born at three forty-seven in the afternoon, on September 4, 2001, and she's the smallest, wrinkliest, reddest being I have ever seen.
The midwife wraps her in a blanket and hands her to Isabel, who grins down at the infant. I know that this isn't exactly how Isabel wanted to spend her young adulthood, but she's been living with the baby for four months now, and she's obviously formed a bond with her. No matter how much trouble she knows Mary will cause, Isabel loves her daughter.
A moment later, the midwife, a big smile on her face, hands the infant to me. Isabel closes her eyes halfway in a clear gesture of exhaustion, but smiles to me. The midwife encourages her to help a little as the placenta is expelled, and Isabel tries, but even with her alien strength, she's too tired. Still, it comes out with a little help, and the nurse weighs it.
Reluctantly, I part with Mary so that the midwife can weigh her, too, and examine her. She'd cried readily from birth, which was why we were allowed to hold her right away, but now the midwife had to check her for less obvious problems.
She weighs six pounds and an ounce, small, but out of danger zone by far, and she's pronounced healthy very quickly. I breathe a sigh of relief, and Isabel smiles tiredly. My daughter is fine.
And that's the first time I call her my daughter, even after all this time of knowing that I was going to have one.
FOUR YEARS, NINE MONTHS LATER
Max
It's hard to believe that all this time has passed since Mary's birth. Sometimes, it seems so much like it was a week ago, rather than more than four and a half years ago. I still picture Mary in her mother's arms more often than by herself, on the bus she takes every day to Kindergarten at the local elementary school.
Mary hasn't exhibited any conscious alien powers yet, but she's shown enough signs of some unconscious ones that we're very careful about getting her tested, or anything like that. It's amazing how much has to be done. How many forms that Isabel or Kyle have to sign confirming that they don't want their daughter to have any blood tests, no matter what, how someone has to somehow get a chance to clean the needles on the syringes used to give Mary her vaccines, and even more than that.
Mary also has grown faster than expected, which is why she's in Kindergarten now. By the time she was nine months old she'd said her first word, when she was a year old, she could walk. When she was two, it was full sentences at the level of a child a year older than her, when she was three, she could both tie her shoes and write her name.
Now that she's four, she can read a little, write fairly well, talk very well, and is basically at the intelligence level of a six-year-old, we were told by the school testers at the beginning of the year. She'll probably have to skip a grade later in her life, to make up for her slightly noticeable faster growth rate, both physical and mental.
But despite the problems, both obvious and otherwise that she causes on a regular basis, Isabel and Kyle love their daughter, and Mary knows it. She has an extended family of Uncle Max, Uncle Michael, and Auntie's Maria and Liz, though we encourage her to call us all by just our first names. On a slightly different note, Isabel and Kyle named Sheriff Valenti, and Amy DeLuca, whom he married when Mary was two, our little girl's godparents, as well as grandparents, at their wedding.
Michael and Maria tied the knot two years out of high school, when Mary was three. Maria's mother wasn't particularly happy about it, but she has learned to love Michael, and has come to the decision to trust that he won't leave her daughter like Maria's father left her.
Isabel and Kyle never did get married. Their relationship has always been a hidden one, and even I'm not really sure what it is. They're more than just friends, but I'm not sure how much more. They want to present Mary with the most normal family as possible, though, so they do live together and raise her together.
Liz and I... well, Liz and I is complicated. We both say we're past the Tess fiasco, but the truth is, until I know what happened to my son, who's now five, and if Mary's growth is any indication, probably at least nine or ten on the level of a human child, we'll never really be past it. We live together, and I know that she loves me, and I love her, but we've never really gotten back that blind trust that made our relationship so special in high school.
Isabel and Kyle lived in our house for about a year after Mary was born, until Kyle graduated and got a job that paid enough to make rent. They moved again when she was three, into a bigger place, and of all things, bought a dog. I'd never known that Isabel had a thing for dogs, but given a few quiet years in which to relax and live as a human, more and more things that I didn't know about her started to surface, that only one of several.
So, six months ago, a huge, fluffy puppy Newfoundland called 'Not The Milky Way', moved in with them.
Mary named him.
We've never told Mary where she comes from. Isabel and I both agree that she's too young, and besides, there's the question of where she really does come from. She is partially alien, but that may only be because of Isabel's blood, and more dominant cells and genes being so important to her development while she was in-utero. For all we know, she was conceived by a perfectly human couple. But she seems to have some kind of intuition about her place in the universe.
About two months ago, I took her to the lookout where my son had been conceived, the first time I'd gone back since that fateful day, and showed her all the planets. She asked about them like a small child would, and then she looked at me with the big blue eyes, all the intelligence and innocence at the same time in them, and asked, "Max, which one is home?"
I told her that Earth is home.
Unwilling to draw suspicion to us in any way, I convinced her to let us call the puppy 'Notty'. To the unknowing observer, it will sound like Isabel and Kyle simply let their child name the big, fumbling puppy Naughty, which is hardly completely untrue.
Today is her last day of Kindergarten. Liz and I are picking her up at the school-bus stop, and we're taking her out to ice cream to celebrate. Then, we're all meeting at Iz and Kyle's, because they said they wanted to tell us something. I don't know what they want to say, but I try hard not to worry much, because nothing alien has happened in a long time.
We expected to be bombarded after Mary's birth, because if Isabel, Michael and I saw in our dreams the importance of Mary's existence to the survival of the human race, then a lot of other aliens could have, too. But everything's been quiet for years, and we're all starting to relax a bit.
Mary chats happily about her day in school, and Liz and I laugh and smile, asking questions about her projects, and her friends. We eat our ice cream in peace, and again I'm amazed that Mary is as open with us as she is. It's almost like she realizes that we're all her parents, all her caretakers.
We've done our best to make sure that she has a mommy and daddy to tell people about, but we've also tried to all be very close to her. Because, as morbid as the idea is, not all of us might survive that long, and we need Mary to trust all of us, and be able to live with any of us, should it become necessary.
If we ever need to hide her, her closeness to all of us could be her key to safety.
The life of a prophesied part-alien child isn't easy, though she doesn't have to know that yet.
I push that out of my head, though, focusing on the more greener pastures of today, making myself stop thinking about the potential future trouble. The future's in the future, and I've learned to leave it well enough alone.
She's wearing a little purple backpack, and her dark brown, almost black hair is about shoulder-length, and loose. She looks physically like an old five, or maybe six. Her eyes are blue, and she's strongly built, not a delicate child. Luckily, Kyle and Isabel are like night and day, in terms of appearance, so there are no worries about people seeing traits in Mary that don't show in either parent.
She's missing two teeth, her first one gone about six months ago. We told her the usual tooth fairy myth, and gave her something very special as her gift-An amulet with the Antarian peace symbol carved on it. We told her it meant peace in another language. She didn't ask more at the time.
My mind wanders briefly to what Isabel and Kyle are doing home this afternoon-they both work, usually. With the broad range of people who care for her, finding a sitter is never trouble, so they both hold down full-time jobs, just starting this year. Before Mary went to school, they both worked part-time, so that Mary always had a parent at home, but they've increased their hours now.
Isabel is a historian. Of all the things in the world, she's a historian. She just got her degree last year after going to community college here in Roswell for two years after Mary was born. Kyle's stuck by his promise, and done his best to put her through school, and seems to have succeeded. She works part-time as a teacher at the community college, and part-time as a librarian.
Kyle is a cop. He went to a couple of years of college, decided it wasn't for him, and got a job on the force. We're lucky, because though none of us wanted to push them, we needed an insider on the police side, and Sheriff Valenti was just about ready to retire. Though we didn't want to ask him to do it, we were all glad that he did.
Liz is a biologist, and works for the zoo, about 45 minutes from here as a researcher in the endangered species re-population program. She loves her job, and can talk about it for hours. I'm just glad she got to be what she really wanted out of life, even through all this alien crap.
Michael works for the Crashdown, and Maria is an assistant manager at a nightclub. Both of them say that there's time for college and 'real' jobs later. I've done my best not to criticize them, because they both seem happy in their chosen professions. Plus, it's been nearly two years, and they still act like newlyweds.
I run the Museum of Alien Artifacts, as I renamed it after being given ownership. Brody, deciding that time was precious, much to precious to waste working, gave me the deed to the museum, all the stuff, and a half a million dollars to run it with until I got my legs under me. He did all of this at our graduation ceremony, Sidney on his hip. I've never been happier in my life that I 'abused' my alien powers that night.
Mary grabs her backpack, and starts to hop off the tall stool. Liz grabs her arm and holds her still. "Whoa!" She goes for Mary's face with the napkin, and the little girl ducks, giggling. Liz smiles, grabs her gently by the hair, and wipes her face, Mary grimacing all the way through it.
Mary slips off the stool, and heads for the door. "C'mon, Max, Liz! Mom and Dad have a surprise, and they said they'd tell me what it is when we got home!"
I smile, and take Liz's hand, exchanging glances with her as we walk out the door, and towards the car.
Isabel
Holding Kyle's hand nervously, I wait for Max, Liz and Mary to knock on the door. He smiles at me, but nothing really changes. I'm still shaking in my boots. And all of this isn't really helped by the nausea, either.
Dropping his hand quickly as I hear Max's key in the lock, I settle into the couch, trying to think only of Mary, and her reaction. That isn't quite so scary, and I'm up, off the couch in seconds, heading towards her, ready to hear about her last day of school.
But Mary wants nothing to do with telling me about school. She's told me about school all year long, and she's told Max and Liz today, I'm sure, and now she just wants to know what the surprise we said we had for her is.
I hope Max takes this better than the mental picture I have of the way he might.
The door swings open a second time as Maria knocks softly on it, pushing the not-quite-latched door in on its hinges. It creaks a little, something that I complain about incessantly, but Kyle says it adds character. "Hey," I greet her, and Michael on her heels. "I guess you all want to know what I have to say, right?"
Everyone nods, some more eagerly than others, Mary literally bouncing up and down, then throwing herself into my lap. "Careful, sweetie," I tell her. "You're going to need to be more gentle on Mommy's tummy now."
Kyle reaches over and takes my hand, something I'm sure he's glad to finally be able to do. We've kept our relationship secret long enough, and it's time to get it out in the open.
Liz's eyes light up with understanding the quickest, then Maria's. Mary and the guys are still puzzled, so I can see I'm going to have to explain a little further. I take a deep breath, and spit it out. "I'm pregnant."
Maria squeals, and Liz comes forward more sedately to congratulate me, but silence reigns from Max and Michael's respective corners of the room. They're both open-mouthed, in shock, I think. I wait anxiously for their reactions.
Kyle hugs me to his side, and I kiss his cheek. Maria exclaims a little, in sort of a wordless cry of happiness, and says, "I knew that you couldn't have that little of a relationship all this time!"
Kyle grins at me, and suddenly I look down at Mary, who's been quietly contemplating us adults this whole time. "So, sweetie, what do you think?" I ask. "You're going to be a big sister!"
Mary looks at me, and I hug her too, trying to make sure she isn't feeling left out. "Like Justina has a little baby brother?" She asks calmly.
I nod. "Just like Justina has a little baby brother. Only you might have a little brother or sister," I tell her.
She grins up at me, and I relax with her first real emotion over the whole deal. "Neat!"
I hug her, relieved that she's excited, and kiss her forehead. She turns around, and snuggles into my arms. "I'm gonna be a big sister!" She tells Liz and Maria excitedly.
By this time, Max and Michael have wandered over, but just been watching this little gathering. I plead with my eyes, asking them to tell me what they think, to tell me that they're not terribly angry, and that I'm not amazingly stupid. After all, this will be the first quarter-alien baby on the planet.
Max cracks a little smile, and Michael touches me on the shoulder. "Congratulations," He says gruffly. I think he's happy, but not really sure what to say, so I smile back, and tell him thanks.
"Congratulations, Iz." Max is calm, something I certainly didn't expect. Usually, Max's temper has a way of interfering with his actions, but not today. And I'm certainly grateful for that now, because Max had told me, years ago when I was pregnant with Mary, that the rather unusual balance of our human and alien physicalities could present a higher than average rate of miscarriage. The last thing I need right now is stress.
"When is he or she going to be born?" Liz asks curiously. I smile up at my brother.
"Well, Max is going to have to help us tell," I respond. I turn to my daughter. "Mary, can you take Maria into the kitchen and help her make us all some lemonade?" Mary nods eagerly, and hops off my lap, pulling Maria in the direction of the kitchen. I smile at her back as she goes, remembering all the reasons I love her for.
Max leans over me, and puts his hands on my stomach. It's already slightly swollen, just barely noticeable. "When was the baby conceived?" He asks.
I look at Kyle. "About a month ago, I guess." He nods in agreement, and I look back at Max.
My brother looks me deep in the eyes, and I look back, forcing, willing the connection. I see the flash, and a moment later, it's all over. He looks up at me, and smiles. "They're fine, Isabel."
I breathe a sigh of relief. My first fear was that the baby would survive because of the atmosphere, like Max and Tess's almost hadn't. But then my brother's use of the word 'They're' started to register, and I looked at him sharply.
"What do you mean, 'they're'?" I asked him sharply.
Max smiled. "I mean you're going to have twins, Isabel."
I just look at him for a long moment, in shock. Then I ask shakily, "How far along are they?"
Max shrugs. "About twice as far as they should be," He tells me. "But I'm hardly an expert. We'll just have to keep an eye on them."
I smile up at Kyle. "We're going to have twins!"
He grins back at me, and hugs me. Max clears his throat to remind me that he's still here, and I turn my attention back to my brother. "Do you want to know what sex they are?" He asks.
I look at Kyle, unsure. He shakes his head a little. "I mean, unless it's important to you, Isabel." I shake my head.
"I guess we'll stay in the dark, Max." He smiles, and nods.
Mary and Maria come back in from the kitchen, Mary running ahead with a glass of lemonade sloshing precariously in her little hands. "Whoa, slow down, Mary-kins," Kyle calls to her as he rises. She stops running, only sort of jogging, now, and he goes to meet her, taking the glasses from her before she spills them.
She puts a hand on my stomach, and looks down at it. "When are they going to be born, Mommy?" She asks.
Whoa! "They?" I ask her.
"Yeah. When are they going to be born?" She looks up at me with the naive, yet extremely intelligent eyes of a little girl.
"How did you know they're twins, Mary-kins?" Kyle asks.
She shrugs. "I felt them."
"You felt them?"
"When I put my hand on Mommy's tummy," She explains. "I just sort of knew."I look up at Max, and he shrugs, like, 'she's your kid, you explain'.
"Okay," I start slowly, "There's something about that that you should know, Mary." I pull her up and sit her on my stomach. She hops off right away.
"Why'd you get off, Mary?" I ask, perplexed.
"You said that I had to be careful about your tummy. I don't want to hurt them."
I smile at her, and pat my lap. "You won't hurt them by just sitting on my lap, sweetie. And enjoy it while it lasts, because pretty soon, you won't be able to sit there!"
She looks perplexed, now. "Why, Mommy?"
I smile. "The babies are growing in my tummy, you know that, right?" She nods. "Well, as they get bigger, my tummy has to get bigger, too. And eventually, my tummy will be great big, and I won't have a lap anymore!"
She looks surprised, but nods sagely, and hops back into my lap. "That's funny, Mommy."
"I guess it is, sweetie. Now, you know how you felt the babies just now?" She nods. "I need you to not talk about that to anyone except me and Daddy, Max and Liz, Michael and Maria, and Grandpa Valenti, okay?"
She nods again. "Why not?"
"It's... special, Mary. Not everybody can do that. You, and me, and Max and Michael. Liz can do it a little bit. But even though Daddy and Maria and Grandpa Valenti can't do that, they understand. But there are some people in the world who wouldn't understand, and we need to not tell them. Okay?"
She nods gravely, and I know that even if she doesn't understand, she'll keep her promise, so I smile warmly down at her. "Okay. I know you'll do fine, Mare."
She nods again. "When are the babies going to be born, Mommy?"
I look up at Max. "In about four and a half months, sweetie. Right before Halloween."
She grins. "Wouldn't it be fun if they were born on Halloween?"
I nod a little. "Well, it would be funny."
She jumps off my lap, and grabs a doll. "I'm gonna go play, okay?"
Kyle nods. "Sure. Have fun." He watches our daughter rush off to her room.
Everyone sits down with a glass of lemonade, but nobody really has anything to talk about. Me and Kyle, basking in the happiness, everyone else in either shock, or I don't know what.
My whole being is just flooded with joy, though, and I don't really care about the silence, which would otherwise be quite awkward. But I'm so much in my own world, that I almost don't notice, and when I do, I really couldn't care less.
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