Dear Baby

Disclaimer: None of these people belong to me. I can only wish they did. They belong to the gods who are Jason Katims, the WB, and Melinda Metz.

February 3rd, 2010

Dear baby,

Your mama left me today. We were looking at houses, since we realized that you wouldn't fit into our cramped little apartment, and then it suddenly hit me what you meant. You weren't just an alien-human cocktail that was fermenting in your mama's stomach. You'll be a real little person. And that scared me. Another person I'll have to look after. Another reason for me to turn into Max.

It started out like one of our usual fights. We fight a lot. I wonder sometimes if you can hear us in the womb, since Maximillian swears that fetuses have extra-sensitive hearing. I got scared, and your mama accused me of running away, like I always do. And I told her she pushed too hard. So she left. She went home to your grandma Amy's. And since I can't live alone anymore, I'm now sleeping on the floor of your aunt and uncle's bedroom, since it's a little far for me to crawl into your Uncle Max's window in Boston.

We'd been trying for a while, ever since your cousin Claudia turned out to be developing all right. I never said anything, because I didn't want your mama to think that I didn't love her enough, but I saw the way your Aunt Liz and Uncle Max were with Claudia--one more reason to envy Max Evans. So when we found out...

When we found out, I was scared. I knew what that alien-human cocktail that lived inside your mama's body would mean. I knew what the danger was, bringing that cocktail into the world. But I'd watched Max and Claudia for so long... Max always got everything easy. He found love easily. He had a child easily. He had a family. I've fought for everything. And when I found out that your mama was pregnant, my first instinct was to run, because I've always run.

And that made her angry, and scared, because her dad ran when her mom had found out she was pregnant. I thought your gramma Amy was going to kill me. But for some reason your Aunt Isabel and Uncle Alex understood. It's not that I don't want you, baby. I just don't want anyone to have to deal with the choices I've had to make. It's not like I can make the alien side of you go away. I don't want you to be doomed to stare up at the sky and wonder--not the way that Izzy and Maxwell and I have done.

It's not that I don't love you, baby. I know I'll love you. I'll fall harder than Max ever has for Claudia. You'll be my earth and sun and stars, the center of my universe. You'll keep me from the stars in ways your mother never could. But what if your life comes at the cost of something else? Your mama and I were so happy in our little world. We fight all the time, but we love all the time, just as we always have. She still calls me spaceboy, and I still call her cheesehead. We're settled. And you...

What if you cost me my Maria? What price will I have to pay so that I'm not the last alien on her earth, and is it worth it?

But if I don't become the father that I should be, I might lose her anyway.

February 7th, 2010

Dear baby,

It's been a few days now. I saw your mama in the grocery store when I was buying Tabasco for me and Izzy. She looks beautiful. She always looks beautiful, but now she shines with this inner light. I started drawing her on the back of my shopping list. I couldn't help it. Just like I can't help wondering who you'll be. Will you have your mama's long curls that I love to pull so much, and her dancing eyes? Will you be a fey pixie child, or a slinkster loner, like I was? Will you sing, will you draw? Will you remember all the things that I can almost remember of whatever our home was, and will you always look to the sky to save you, as I do?

I bought the house today. It's a few blocks from the Crashdown, on a little side street. It's a huge house, with lots of room in the backyard. And it has lots of windows--lots of light. It's a good painting house. It looks lonely though, like it needs to be filled up with lots of love. I can't promise you forever, or a happy fairy tale ending, but I can promise you all the love that my heart can give. I hope it will be enough. I hope it'll make your life a little easier for you. I'm so sorry to do this to you, baby. I didn't ask for it, and you definitely don't deserve to know the strength that you'll need to endure.

But at least you'll have Claudia, who's paving the way for you. And you'll have a mother who loves you more than anything, and aunts and uncles who will adore you for being you. And you'll have a father, if your mama can forgive me for being the scared idiot that I've always been. It'll be hard, but we'll find a way...

February 10th

Dear baby,

It's been a week. I've had nightmares every night, loud enough to wake up Alex and Izzy. Half of the time now, I end up on the bed, and Alex and Isabel take the floor, after Izzy sits up with me half the night, trying to get me back to sleep. But somehow nothing works. Not hot chocolate with Tabasco, not listening to classical music, not being read to. That smell of burning ozone and the sound of crunching and tearing metal still fill my mind every night in the darkness. I hope that you won't be haunted by these memories. Maybe that's one thing you won't inherit from me. I'm so sorry, baby. I know you never asked to be torn between two worlds. It was hard enough for me. Somehow I think it'll only be worse for you...

There's a tree in the backyard--a huge old oak tree that would be perfect for playing in. That's what normal kids do, right? I swear you'll have a childhood--a nice, normal childhood where you won't have to worry about someone hitting you, or someone finding out. No nightmares of men in white lab coats and stainless steel examination tables that are so cold you can feel it in your bone marrow. You'll be so loved... But the tree is perfect for watching the stars in, or just dreaming in. I started to build you a treehouse with your Uncle Alex. It already has a floor, and looks right into the backyard of the house behind us.

It calms me, when I'm building something. I don't need the rage, like I do when I'm throwing the paint around. Wood between my fingers isn't as satisfying as the smooth squish of thick acrylic paint, but somehow carving and cutting the wood soothes my soul. Whatever soul I have, that is, since it's a human concept.

So you'll have a place to play. The window of your room looks out on the treehouse. I'm already planning what constellations to paint on the ceiling of the treehouse, where to carve your name when we decide on it. There's a place for your name on one high branch, just like there's a heart somewhere in the grove of trees by Roswell Elementary with you mama's name and mine burnt into it. We never promised each other forever. We always swore to take it day by day, just because we'd never know which would be our last. But there's no hope of going home now. Not with you coming. But I don't think I'd even want to leave anymore. Looking up at the stars is almost enough.

February 17th

Dear Baby,

I dreamt last night, of you growing in your mama's tummy, and me lifting up her shirt to stare at the golden sheathe of skin that protected you from the world as you incubated. And I spread paint on your mama's stomach, creating my most beautiful painting on the most beautiful creation on earth. And your mama and I loved again.

She hasn't called. Amy calls every morning at 2 am to yell at me, so I started to sleep in the treehouse with the cordless, so that she doesn't wake Alex and Izzy up. I'm worried about your mama. I can't lose her. But I can't lose you either. My baby. Something I helped create, for better or worse...

Michael laid down his pen and stared up at the cloudy night sky. He couldn't see the stars. His one last comfort was blocked. And then he heard the careful sound of rain pelting the wooden roof of the treehouse. Of course it would rain. He huddled deeper under his blankets, holding Milton the Alien, and Michael Bear close. Both stuffed animals still had that Maria scent of cypress oil and roses. And as he listened to the rain, he realized what he had to do.

She sat in front of her old mirror, staring at her naked body. The changes were still subtle--only a slight rounding bump to her stomach. Her breasts seemed a little fuller, and there was a bit more curve to her hip. She was finally getting the body she'd always wanted. Too bad her spaceboy wasn't here to admire and enjoy it...

She pulled an old Houston Astros T-shirt over her head and went to stare out the window at the rain. It's not that she didn't like the rain, but somehow, it made her heart seem even heavier. Two weeks, and no word from her cheesehead spaceboy. Two weeks, and no visitor had come tripping into her dream. She missed his warmth at her side, snuggling close to her even in his sleep. She would've never thought that Michael Guerin would be a snuggler.

She blinked a few times before she realized that a wet figure stood outside her window. He had a lost puppy look about him--his dark eyes were so mournful that she couldn't help chuckling. Somehow, she could never stay mad at him forever. He was a bastard at times, but Maria knew how afraid he was. Max was paranoid, but Michael was borderline obsessive about it. And it wasn't only because of his ET complexes. Michael Guerin was just one of those who felt things too deeply. He could love more than anyone on earth or any other planet, but he had to be so completely sure in that love...

She opened the window, and let him crawl inside, resisting the urge to either smack his flattened porcupine head, or cradle him close in her arms.

They stared at each other for a while. Then, she took the towel that was hanging over her chair and began to dry his hair, just as she had on that night years before. She pulled his shirt off as he shook, tugged at his soaked jeans until he stood there in his boxers, teeth chattering. But before she could wipe his face, he fell to his knees, and lifted up her shirt. Then he pressed his face to her bare belly, his graceful fingers tracing strange designs over the small swelling. When he was done, he looked up at her, his Czechoslovakian eyes looking more human than she'd ever seen them.

"I'm sorry." He wrapped his arms around her waist. "I love you."

And she helped him to his feet, took his hand, and led him to her bed. And then she reminded him of how much she loved him, no matter how often he did stupid things.

Amy was a little surprised the next morning when she peered into her daughter's room, and found two heads lying on Maria's cloud-print pillow. But instead of the fear and gut-wrenching she'd felt the first time she'd witnessed the same sight, she smiled a little as she kissed each face gently. The DeLuca curse was broken for good.

February 18th, 2010

Dear baby,

We're waiting for you. Please don't take too long. There are people here who want to meet you, and stars that I need to point out in the sky. It won't be easy, but we'll make it, no matter what.

love always,

Daddy

Epilogue: Five Stars

"Are you done yet, spaceboy?" Maria looked at the bent spiked-head of her husband as he concentrated on his sketch. "Because Nicole's finished, and she's starting to lose interest..." She looked down at her daughter, who stared back with wide dark eyes--her father's eyes. One week old Nicole Maria Guerin was already proving to be a rambunctious baby. And Maria knew that this was only the beginning.

"Finished," Michael said finally, coming to stand behind her. He rested his chin on her shoulder as he showed her the sketch with all the pride of a small boy. As always, his talent startled Maria. There was something about the soft curve of their daughter's head as she nursed at Maria's breast that took Mrs. Guerin's breath away. Michael's drawing had improved, and somehow, his best works that he ever did were of his family.

Michael reached out his large, paint-stained hands. "Now, it's my turn."

Maria gave him a wry smile. "I think you lack the proper equipment, spaceboy." She leaned over, nuzzling his neck. "But if you want to explore it later..." A suggestive leer replaced the smile.

And for a moment, she could see that her husband forgot the small baby he cradled in his large hands. A familiar scowl crept over his sharp features. "Later," he whispered, giving her a quick heated kiss before heading outside with his usual smirk on his face.

Michael cradled his small daughter inside his worn leather coat as he walked outside. This was the first time Nicole had ever been out at night, and he made sure that it was a clear night. He walked quietly through the backyard, visions of a houseful of children spilling out onto the lawn and garden. And then, they finally came to the old oak tree. With one hand securing Nicole to his chest, he quickly climbed up the ladder. And once his feet hit the thick plank floor, he walked to the wall where two names were already inscribed.

"See this, Pixie? Your mama and I did this the first night we stayed in the house. The house was so empty, and the roof leaked, so we decided to stay out here." His rough fingers gently traced the fragile letters as he remembered that night, the two of them cradled close in the blankets after lovemaking, listening to the soft patter-fall of winter rain. He remembered the smooth grain of the wood as he had burnt their names into it with his finger, and his wife's low chuckle as he laid his head against her belly and told their unborn daughter stories of their childhood. "Do you remember, Pixie?"

He took her tiny hand in his and placed it up against the wall. "This wood is like a blank canvas. You'll have a thousand and one opportunities to paint whatever you want on it. Just make sure you don't paint yourself into a corner, Tinkerbell." He kissed the top of her messy gold curls as she made cooing baby noises. "Always leave a little crack in the door so that the love can creep in."

He traced her name under his and Maria's, carefully linking it to the two with a trail of tiny stars. Five stars. Then, he brought her to the window again and settled against the ledge.

"See that constellation up there? Those three stars in a line? That's Orion's belt. Orion was a great warrior. And the V-shape around that little cluster? Those are the Hyades that hang from the horns of the bull, Taurus. Your mama can be a big Taurus sometimes. She gets if from your gramma Amy. And that other v-shape there? See those five stars? That's our place, Nicole. Our special place, where we came from. But it's not our home, because we belong on earth--all of us. Five stars for five visitors--Max, Isabel, Claudia, you and me." He kissed the top of her head again, and her tiny hand reached out to touch the tear that slid down his cheek. "We aren't alone anymore. We'll never be the last aliens on earth."

Max said that Claudia's hands reminded him of starfish. Nicole Maria's hands didn't look like starfish. They were small, and they were an almost golden color. Exactly like her mother's. Small enough to cradle Michael's entire soul, and the universe besides.

Back to the Future Arc