Disclaimer: Roswell doesn't belong to me *sniffle*, but I can pretend for a while. And Matthew Philip Whitman is sole property of Danilise and Kara, since he's a little boy after my own heart. Please don't sue, unless you really do want five Garth Brooks cds, and the picture of me with Majandra and Brendan *clutches it protectively to her chest*.

Author's Note: This story is the part of an evolving future storyline. All the stories currently in this storyline are included in order on the Future Arc page.

Dedication: For my podmate, Glenna.

"Gramma?" Diane sat in the rocking chair at the Whitman house one night, babysitting for her youngest grandchildren. She was startled to find her youngest grandson staring up at her in his footed yellow Eeyore pajamas.

"Yes, Mattie?" She lifted him up, cuddling his small body against hers.

He tucked his dark head underneath her chin and curled up close with his stuffed platypus. "Gramma, can you tell me a story?"

Out of all her seven grandchildren, Matthew Philip Whitman was the quietest, though Mikyelah Marie Guerin came in a close second. Matt had the same energy level and tendency to chaos as his Guerin counterparts, but he seemed to spend more time in thought. There was such a serious look on his face half the time that she often called him her little Max.

They rocked for a little while in the rare silence of the Whitman house, the other six actually being asleep in various bedrooms upstairs. "What story do you want, Mattie?"

"Chosen, Gramma. How Mommy and Uncle Max were chosen."

She smiled and kissed the top of Matthew's thick dark hair. Her adopted grandchild hadn't requested this story in a long time. It was one he'd been told since he was born, just as her two babies had been told since they were small that they were chosen.

"Once upon a time, Grandpa and I were driving home from the hospital, and we saw two little babies on the side of the road. They were older than you--six years old, and so scared and alone..."

She thought back to that night sometimes and thanked God that they'd driven down that highway that night. If anyone else had...it took her more than ten years to find Michael Guerin and really make him part of the family."So we took them home, and we named them Max and Isabel."

"Mommy." Matthew had a sleepy smile on his face. "Mommy fell from the stars to be your baby."

Diane smiled as she stroked her grandson's hair back from his forehead. "Yes. They fell from the sky to be my babies. And we chose them and made them a part of our family, just like your mommy and daddy did with you."

Matthew was silent for a very long time. "But that doesn't mean that the lady who birthed me didn't love me, right?" He looked up at Diane, his big blue eyes no longer sleepy.

This was a talk that she rememberd having with her daughter, years and years before. It still didn't make it any easier though. "Your first mommy loved you so much that she let your second mommy have you, so that my baby could take care of you. Because your first mommy couldn't."

She could see Matthew pondering this in his five year old mind and heart. Diane knew that Isabel had already had this talk with her son many times before, but she also knew, after raising two adopted children, that it was something that would come up again and again...

"So you have two mommies who love you, Mattie. Just like somewhere, your mommy and Uncle Max have another mommy who love them."

Her smallest grandson leaned back against her. All of her grandchildren loved to cuddle close--especially Michael and Maria's four. The fact that her grandchildren had a large enough family to help them with all their insecurities warmed her heart. She knew that each of her babies would have a long road to haul. At least they had family to share it with.

"And Mommy chose to love me. We got stuck with Annabeth, but Annabeth's from the stars like Mommy, so that's why she's special."

Diane smiled as she kissed Matthew's round cheek. "You're both special in your own ways, baby bear. You were meant to be Matthew Philip Whitman, just like your mommy was meant to be Isabel Diane Evans."

"Izzy Whitman," Mattie mumbled sleepily. "Mommy was chosen to be a Whitman, just like me."

With a chuckle, Diane shifted her grandbaby's position on her lap. "Yes, she was. First an Evans, then a Whitman. So my baby Izzy grew up and fell in love and married a wonderful man named Alex. And they gave me two of the most beautiful grandchildren. One was a little girl half from the stars."

"Annabeth." Mattie smiled into his platypus.

The grandma kissed the top of her youngest's head. "And one was a baby chosen from the earth, because he was meant to be part of the most special family."

"Me." The most special baby on earth yawned. "Love you, gramma."

"I love you too, Mattie."

Maybe he would remember this story in the dark years ahead, when Diane knew he would wonder how he could be so special in a family where every other child had powers he could never dream of. Because Matthew Philip was the most special of all her grandchildren. He was the one most like his mother--a child of the heart.

Back to Area 51 (Section II)