Title: Son of Men
Chapter: 12
Rating: T
Summary: When a message comes through the typewriter, it's going to turn everyone's life upside down.
Author's Note: So here is chapter 12, completing the first dozen! There's about half a dozen (meaning six ;) ) more chapters to until the end, and I dearly promise they'll come one per week from now on. Screw real life! Who needs real life! XD I'll also post another chapter of Her Brother's Keeper later today, so look out for that as well. As usual, if you liked this (or not), don't hesitate to let me know. I'm always open for any kind of constructive criticism!
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Olivia sat on the couch in her apartment, elbows resting on her knees while her hands, fingers entwined, rested against her lips. Opposite her, on the small coffee table that stood in the middle of her living room, sat Henry, strapped into a newly bought baby carrier. He was happily clapping his hands, wriggling his feet, and babbling away, his eyes always fixed on the woman in the room that he perceived to be his mother.
Occasionally, he would reward her with a bright, toothless grin which was always followed by his tiny arms flying into her direction. She would always answer him with a weak smile of her own, tickling his belly which would cause him to burst into a fit of laughter. But soon, the laughter would subside and once again, he would look at her with big blue eyes, a charming smile, and his outstretched arms, a sign he wanted to be picked up. She just couldn't bring herself to pick up the little boy though.
The very first moment she'd laid eyes on Henry in Lincoln's arms and watched him reluctantly peek over the edge of the blanket he had been wrapped in, she had known one thing. That little boy was Peter's son. Even in the dim light of the night she had been able to see his baby blue eyes shine back at her, a pair of eyes she had looked into so often for the last three years.
And then came the smile, those tiny lips curled into such a wide and happy smile. A smile she had known for much longer. A smile that was very much like her own. And it was this same smile that was now greeting her whenever she looked at Henry, that cheerful little boy that sat so patiently in his carrier on her coffee table, wanting nothing but to be picked up and feel his mother's protective arms close around him and hold him tight.
"Here."
Olivia's head snapped to her right and she found Peter standing next to her, a steaming bowl of soup in his hands that he carefully placed on the table next to Henry.
"A Bishop specialty. It should help you calm your stomach down."
She answered him with a half-smile, "Thank you. I'm not quite sure I can keep anything down right now though."
"You gotta eat something. Trust me, the soup's good."
The cushions on the couch shifted slightly when Peter sat down next to her. His eyes immediately fixed on his son who did everything to get Olivia's attention but wouldn't even glance in Peter's direction. With a soft tickle under his chin, he tried to get Henry to notice him as well but all the boy did was pause to give him a short stare and blow spit bubbles at him before he turned his head away, wiggling his arms towards Olivia.
"He's mistaking me for her," Olivia uttered, shaking her head slightly, "But I'm not his mother."
"You could be."
Her head shot towards Peter, her confused eyes fixing on him. He was looking at her with a sincerity that she hadn't seen in quite some time. What he had just said out loud was what she'd been thinking about since she had woken up in the hospital. Did she want to be a mother to Peter's son? Did she even have any other choice?
She loved Peter, more than she could imagine she would ever love someone. If she was sure of one thing in her life, it was that he was the man she wanted to spent the rest of her life with. But once again, things had gotten so completely out of hand.
It was never a question of not helping Peter's son. But she had to admit that she hadn't thought this all through. Because bringing Henry to this side would mean that he would be a part of Peter's life and thus, a part of hers. That was something she'd acknowledged from the beginning, but she had avoided the realization that she would have to play a part in Henry's life as well – and what that role was or could be, she wasn't even sure of.
Could she even be Henry's mother? Whenever she looked at that little boy, she not only saw Peter. She also saw her alternate. His mother. The woman who had once taken everything from her. And with that came the remembering of what she had done to Peter, what she had done to her. That part of her life that she wanted to forget about, that she never wanted to look back at – because it had broken her completely. And just looking at Henry brought all of that back. The desperation, the helplessness but also the hatred and the rage.
But then, she also saw herself in that little boy – and maybe that was what hurt the most. She looked right into a face that resembled her own, knowing fully well that this little boy was not her own son.
"I'm sorry, that came out all wrong," Peter finally broke the silence between them.
"It's fine, Peter. Don't worry," she told him, but he just shook his head at her.
"No, it's not. He could have been ours if I hadn't been such a dumbass."
Olivia just shrugged her shoulders at him, "But he's not. He's only yours."
"And that's what's wrong," he let out a sarcastic snort, "He isn't just mine. He's also the son of Olivia Dunham. In some fucked up, twisted way, he's your son as well."
Olivia took a deep breath, "He's here, and he's gonna stay. So we've got to deal with that, right? You and I, we have to figure out where to go from here. We've got to make this work somehow."
"The question is how are we gonna make this work."
"I honestly have no idea."
"Neither do I," Peter admitted, and for the first time that afternoon was rewarded with small giggles from Henry while he tickled the baby's belly.
"He's got your eyes."
"I guess that's pretty much the only thing he got from me," he replied, deliberately trying to avoid saying that he, too, had noticed that the bright, happy smile the baby boy had been displaying for most of the day was definitely something he had inherited from his mother. The more he looked at Henry, the more he noticed the little things that he loved about Olivia in him. The small wrinkles at the corner of his eyes when he smiled, the tiny crease above his nose when he did his unhappy face or the way he silently and intently observed a certain object that had caught his attention. All these little things – they all were absolutely, one hundred percent Olivia.
"He definitely snores just like you," Olivia broke him out of his thinking.
"I don't snore," he countered immediately, putting on his best playful 'now I'm really hurt' expression.
"How would you know? You're dead to the world when you snore."
Peter rolled his eyes at her, then turned serious again, "I think you should read this."
He reached behind him and pulled out a letter he had stuffed into the back pocket of his jeans. It was the brown envelope that Lincoln had given him the night before. It was the other Olivia's letter.
"I don't think it was only for me."
Then he reached for the carrier and picked up Henry who was pulling a face that he had already gotten to know as the poopy face. His son would need a new diaper soon. The baby went into his arms willingly, rewarding his father with the most innocent expression he could muster as Peter noticed the diaper's pungent odor.
"Oh good Lord, kid, what did you eat?" Peter exclaimed and scrunched his nose while he gently patted the baby's bottom, "Definitely a new diaper."
Olivia watched silently as Peter carried his son into the bedroom and placed him down on the bright yellow towel that lay over the dark brown comforter on the large king-sized bed. She had always known that Peter was good with kids, and while she had always imagined him to be a great father, she never would have thought he'd take to Henry so fast, especially not after all his reluctance at first to acknowledge that he had a son.
At the hospital, he had pestered the nurses with question after question, from what was the best formula to use, if they could show him how to change his diaper and how to bathe him to whether he needed to switch to a different detergent and how to baby proof the house. Since then, he had done it all. Changed diapers. Fed Henry his bottles. Dressed him in new clothes after he had spit out half his lunch. And Olivia was sure, come bedtime, he would give Henry his nightly bath.
She listened to the baby's happy giggles and Peter's mumbled cursing while he changed the poopy diaper for a little while longer before she turned her attention to the letter in her hands. She twisted the crumbled envelope with nervous fingers before she finally reached inside and pulled out a single sheet of white paper. There wasn't a lot written on it, just a few single words and short sentences.
Henry Dunham
March 25th, 2011
6 pounds 4 ounces
19 inches
I'm sorry for everything. I never meant for any of this happen. Henry deserves a family. A mother and a father. Love him for who he is. Don't hate him for the mistakes I've made. None of what has happened is his fault. He's part Bishop and part Dunham. Please raise him like that.