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Story begins in Special Agent Dana K. Scully’s Apartment/Bedroom
~ Georgetown District - Washington, DC ~
Early Friday Morning, one minute after Midnight
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"...owhayaaa... owhayaaa... owhayaaa..." a baby boy's cry began to filter more insistently through the baby-monitor and into the darkness of his mother's bedroom.

"Mon?"

"Shhh, I know honey, I'll get him," Monica whispered wearily as she quickly leaned over and kissed the just-awakening mother of this wailing little man-child on her feverish forehead, then began to get up from the bed again, for the fifth time since retiring for the night. And that had been a little over two hours ago. Nevertheless, she still had not had much sleep.

*******

"...owhayaaa... owhayaaa... owhayaaa..." little William continued to cry and squirm in his crib as Monica quietly entered the nursery, leaned over his crib and then eased him up into her arms again, for the third time in less than an hour.

"Ohhh, shhh, sweetie, what's wrong, hum? Can't sleep? Tummy hurt? Ohhh, I gotcha. Yeah, Moni's gotcha now sweet Wills," she whispered to him as he squirmed and squalled in her arms, frustrated and hurting from the burning sensations inside his little tummy. She then leaned his little head down against her neck and began to hum, stroking his little back and shoulder-blades with her palm, trying to calm him, as she grabbed the closest baby-blanket from off the dresser, then walked back out into the main hallway, and ultimately back into the main living room area again, farther away from his mother's sensitive ears, then sat down on the couch.

*******

"Ohhh, shhh, sweet baby, such a bad tummy-ache, um-hum, such a bad tummy-hurt. Oh, say, 'my tummy hurts, Mon’, yeah, 'my tummy hurts'," she whispered and cooed to him again in empathy as she rolled him over in her arms and onto his back, then lifted his little wet cheek up against her chin, still cooing and whispering to him, as she gently began to rub his aching tummy with her palm and thumb again. "Oh sweet baby, it's okay, just a bad tummy-hurt, yeah, just a bad tummy-hurt, oh, shhh, it'll go away in a minute, yeah, just a few more minutes..."

"...owhaya... owhay... owha..." his fretful little cries began to ease in response to her soft whispers as he was comforted, just from being held in her arms and whispered to.

"Mon?... ach, ach... ach... achhachhachh..." his mother whispered from the hallway then fell into another horrible fit of uncontrollable coughs.

"Shhh, no Dana. Go on to bed now. I've got him," Monica whispered, glancing around to her partner while the redhead coughed her head off in the hallway anyway. "Go on now, honey, I've got him, I can handle it," she reassured her yet again as she repositioned the baby-blanket over her shoulder.

"But... ach, ach... achachhachhhh..."

"Honey, no. Go on now, go to bed," Monica said again. She had enough to deal with without the mother of this wailing little man-child coming into the living room, coughing and sneezing her head off, and unnerving him even more.

Dana stood there in the hallway hesitating for a moment, then turned and padded back down to her bedroom fretfully coughing all the way. She was just going to have to trust Monica one more time on this one—taking care of her ailing little son and settling him and his aching little tummy back down—while she tried to settle her own sick self, and her own fluid-filled lungs back down and then hopefully get some more restful sleep herself.

Monica then lifted little Wills back up over her blanketed shoulder, patting and massaging his little back all the way, as she cooed and whispered to him some more, rocking him in her arms and beginning to gently sway them both back and forth against the backrest of the couch. "Shhh, it's okay sweetie, I know it hurts. I know, ohhh, I love you, sweet Wills," she whispered softly into his ear as he whimpered, grunted and cooed in response, then suddenly began to spit-up all over the baby-blanket. ...Oh Jeez... Ooohweee. Babies. Oh well. At least it was just a little spit-up this time and not another round of what had happened earlier in the night from the other end.

Oh, and she was just so exhausted herself, rotating between trying to work from home over the last couple of days—via her laptop, cell-phone, and her continual intermittent conversations with her ever-persistent co-worker, John Doggett—and rushing over to her own home, as she found some down time and quickly securing it down, checking to make sure everything appeared to be in order well enough to be able to leave it standing for the next few days, as she then retrieved her own sweet little chocolate-brown/black kitty cat, Xena, and brought her back over with her to Dana’s place. Then, ultimately—the most exhausting element of this latest grueling schedule of all—rotating between taking care of this not-quite-four-months-old ailing little baby boy William, and taking care of his not-quite-thirty-seven-years and four-months-old ailing mother Dana, her partner, her lover and companion; and sometimes taking care of the both of them—at the exact same time—as she cooed, conversed, soothed and played with sweet little William, giving him all the love, attention and affection he could ever need or deserve while she fed and diapered him, bathed and clothed him, then re-diapered and re-clothed him, then rocked and soothed him, as he would occasionally begin to cry all over again from his aching little tummy, then whispering and soothing him, stroking and caressing him, as she cradled him in her arms, cooing and conversing with him, while she mixed and re-heated his mother's milk, then—as of yesterday afternoon—mixed and reheated only store-bought baby-formula and not his own mother's milk, ultimately causing him to suffer from even more colic, as she rocked and played, cooed and soothed, fed and diapered, bathed and re-clothed him again and again and again as needed, ultimately refueling the grueling baby-schedule all over again.

Aditionally, she had been busy mixing, cooking and reheating various cans of soups and broths, offering crackers and juices, cool jell-O or warm teas to the coughing and sneezing Dana, off and on, and throughout the busy baby-schedule, and all during the waking-hours over these last couple of days, as she consistently took care of her, too, in between conversing with her co-worker, John Doggett, and working with John from Dana's home via her cell-phone and laptop, as she took Dana's fluctuating high-temperature, keeping it in-check, along with Dana's fluctuating hot-temper, keeping herself and her own mild manner in-check, and not fussing back, making sure that Dana was getting enough liquids, enough cough medicine, and all the correct dosages on her assorted pills and antibiotics, then caressing and stroking, massaging and cradling Dana in her arms, too, as she found the precious time, while Dana coughed and sneezed and fussed and complained, grouchy as heck over being so sick in the first place, wishing that she could still be back at work herself and not cooped up inside her own small apartment, sick as could be, while Monica took care of all three—herself, Dana and Dana's colicky little son.

Ooohweee. And patience was just not Dana's virtue. And when she was very sick, her impatience and quick-temperedness could be even more difficult to deal with. But Monica knew that, as she had been enduring the irritable, cantankerous, short-tempered, ornery, and disagreeable mood-swings of Dana Scully's for a little over two days now. But Dana was just so sick. Her flu and bronchitis had really begun to catch up with her over these last few days; and when she was this sick and not feeling good—look out—her emotions would just intensify in response to her misery; and not only that, she had ultimately stayed home from work for three whole days, due to her misery; and Monica had chosen to stay home from her work, too—for two whole days herself—and stay with Dana at her place, and work from Dana's home as she watched over her and little William during this trying time, for she knew that Dana would never have found the energy it would have required to take care of her little son over these last two grueling days—talking to him, playing with him, feeding him, bathing him, diapering him and clothing him, cuddling him and holding him, snuggling him and loving on him, as he needed and deserved, while his mommy was so sick. So Monica had taken over most all of the parental duties, along with everything else they needed, to run a smooth household for the last two-and-a-half days; and she would continue to do so, as long as was needed, and until Dana was more up to it and able to do it again herself; and besides, Dana needed Monica for her own peace of mind, too; and she needed her to take care of her, too; and Monica had already been doing that quite well.

*******

Monica quickly changed out the soiled baby-blanket with a soft terry-clothed burp-towel from the kitchen, placing the fresh, clean towel over her shoulder, as William snuggled his little baby-cheek into this newest soft fabric. She then threw the baby-blanket into the washing machine so that she could wash it along with the next load of soiled clothes some time tomorrow morning. Then she padded back to the couch, still humming, cooing, and whispering to little Wills, as he contentedly rode around in her arms.

Amazingly, she could handle doing just about anything one-handedly—within reason—as she held little Wills so comfortably in her arms against her chest and shoulder with one hand, while she did whatever she deemed necessary with the other. She had become a pro at that from practically the very instant that he had been born. Her mothering-skills were so natural—almost as natural as his own mother's.


MAIN LIVING ROOM:
12:43 AM:

“Hum,” Monica sighed glancing down at her watch as she continued to sit on the couch with little Wills in her arms and finally sound asleep against her chest. Well. It had taken almost forty-five minutes to get this fretful little baby boy back to sleep again. Plus, she knew that when he awakened in about an hour or so, for his next little meal, his tummy-ache would probably resume all over again, for she had been having to mix and heat-up regular baby-formula, feeding him that old nasty stuff, instead of what he was used to, his own mother's breast-milk, for the last several meals. But his mother had not been up to breast-feeding him for almost two days now. So Monica had needed to use the stored breast-milk inside the refrigerator and then, ultimately, the few bottles that were stored inside the freezer, too, to feed little Wills. Unfortunately, now all of it was gone. All of it. None was left inside the refrigerator or the freezer; and she had run out some time early yesterday afternoon. Moreover, Dana had not felt up to pumping her breasts over the last couple of days either, so that Monica would have more breast-milk on reserve stored inside the frig or freezer. So now, here they were, completely out of breast-milk, and having to rely on baby-formula exclusively to feed little William. Hence, his little baby tummy had been going into conniption fits with this sudden change in diet, giving him horrible colic.

"Oh," she sighed wearily as she eased up off the couch again, with little Wills in tow, then made her way down to the nursery and placed him back inside his crib. She then stood there just watching him for a few moments, making sure that he was okay and still sound asleep. He was. She smiled then reached down and caressed his chubby little cheek as her thoughts flashed back for a moment to the first time she had ever held him in her arms. ...Oh God, Wills. I was so terrified for you. And your mummy... she mused. But, somehow, they had made it through that eventful night—all of those alien-replacement types surrounding them—as Dana gave birth to her son—Monica there to help deliver him and bring him into this world.

She then leaned down into the crib and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "Love you, sweetie. Night, night," she whispered then turned for the bedroom where his mother was waiting, hopefully sound asleep as well, for she had not heard any more fretful coughs coming from the bedroom over the last twenty minutes or so either. And that was a good sign.

She then tiptoed down to the bedroom to find his mother lying all over her side of the bed and clutching her pillow tightly against her chest. She chuckled. She was not surprised. That tended to happen every time she ever left the bed for any length of time. Dana would somehow know when she had left the bed, even as she slept, and would then roll over onto her side and then clutch her pillow tightly against her chest, as if her life depended on it somehow. But then with everything they had been through together over the last few months, that was understandable. Monica had saved her life, her son's life, occasionally both of their lives, and sometimes even all three of their lives, on many an occasion already.

"Hum," she sighed softly then reached down and barely caressed Dana's cheek for a moment, then began to ease herself down and just to the edge of the mattress. Suddenly, her sweet little empathetic brown-black kitty cat hopped up onto the bed beside her from out of the darkness, too. She chuckled again as she reached down and stroked her little kitty underneath her furry chin.

"Me-o," the little cat chirped softly.

"Shhh," Monica quietly instructed her.

Dana slightly shifted in her sleep.

"Just me, honey. Me and Xe," Monica quietly whispered again.

"Um. Mon," Dana mumbled in her sleep, then let go of Monica's pillow and moved a little farther over to her own side of the bed, then wrapped her arms up and around Monica's torso, already beginning to tug and pull on her to come closer, as Monica finished easing herself back down into the bed.

"Oh honey, I'm right here. What's wrong, hum? Why are you—oh—holding onto me so—oh—so tight? Hum?" the brunette gasped as she quickly sucked in a couple of deep breaths in response to the breathtaking hold Dana was giving her, then wrapped her own arms up and around the little redhead's torso and kissed her lightly on the crown.

"Mmm, don't know, just... ach, ach... ach... need to... ach, ach... ach... need you..."

"Oh. Okay," Monica grinned as her heart fluttered inside her chest. ...Oh wow!... She could put up with just about anything Dana's irritable, cantankerous and frustrating little mood-swings threw at her, especially when Dana said such things as that. "Oh God, honey, I need you, too, and I love you so much. Now go to sleep, okay?" she whispered again then leaned down and kissed Dana yet again on the crown.

"Umhum. Is he—?... ach, ach... ach..."

"Shhh, yes, he's fine, now go to sleep," Monica whispered again in reassurance as she wrapped the little redhead up more snuggly in her arms.

Dana quickly fell back to sleep, lying comfortably against Monica's torso and chest and holding onto her tightly as the sound of Monica’s steady heartbeat lulled her back into a nice, restful sleep.

Xena had been waiting patiently then took her turn and curled in beside Monica's hip, resting her warm, cuddly shoulder and back up against it, too, completely content to just snuggle in against her human companion as well.

Within seconds, Monica was dozing herself, but not quite so soundly, for a part of her knew that she still needed to remain more alert and awake, so that she could be there and take care of her charge—Dana, and Dana's little son.


3:17 AM:


"...acchacchh, ach, ach... achachhoooooooooooo... oh crap... ach, ach... ach..." Dana continued to cough and sneeze.

"Honey, come on now, I need to do this, take your temp," Monica whispered for the second time in so many minutes as she turned the three-way light switch up another notch on the lamp by the bed creating a little bit more light in the room.

"...ach, ach... ach... umum... No… I'm... ach, ach... ach... okay, just... ach, ach... ach..."

"Dana?" Monica admonished, quite serious in her tone, as she cocked a dark raven eyebrow at her.

Dana just looked at her, then cocked her own bright light auburn eyebrow as well, then grabbed the thermometer out of Monica's hand and shoved it inside her mouth, frustrated as hell with the situation.

Monica just smiled, then began to giggle at the pissed-off look she was receiving from the ailing little redhead.

The ailing little redhead then cocked another quite defiant and neatly-trimmed little light auburn eyebrow at her in response, still pissed-off at the situation and being so miserably sick.

Monica just chuckled more heartily, then leaned over and gave her another quick little peck on the forehead.


4:21 AM:


"...owhayaaa... owhayaaa... owhayaaa..." William's little baby-cries began to filter into his mother's bedroom all over again.

...Ohhh, God...

"Mon?"

"Shhh, I know honey, I'll get him," Monica responded then began to get up from the bed all over again.


MAIN LIVING ROOM:
5:06 AM:

"Oawhh," Monica yawned then rolled to her back for a moment, never taking her eyes off sweet little William as they lay there together on the hardwood floor, little William lying on a cushiony soft, clean baby-blanket, too, as they faced each other. Whoever had said that an infant's favorite time to play was in the wee hours of early morning knew exactly what they were talking about, because once little Wills' colicky tummy had begun to feel better, he was ready to rock and roll, and play and squeal, as Monica gave him her undivided attention, rocking and rolling, and playing and verbally communicating with him, too.

"Oh Wills, gosh, sweetie, it's—oawhh," she yawned again, exhausted, then rolled back over onto her stomach facing him and began to baby-babble and coo to him again in response as he baby-babbled and cooed to her, too, attempting to verbally communicate as well.

Suddenly, he squealed out, "Yeewhoooooo!" then reached up to her mouth with his chubby little fingers, placing them along her soft lips.

"Shhh, Wills, no, sweetie, don't wake up Mommy. Mommy's tired, and she needs her sleepy-time," she whispered to him sitting up and crossing her legs, as she instantly pulled him up into her arms.

"Ye-ooooo... um, um, um, um..." he began to baby-grunt in a rhythm as he rocked and rolled his little body in her arms.

She giggled softly herself. He was just so cute—beautiful actually. "Oh sweetie, it's sleepy-time. Yes. It's sleepy-time, for you and me, too, okay? Aren’t you sleepy yet, hum?" she whispered to him again as she tried to lean his little cheek down against her shoulder.

"Um, um, um, um, um, um..." he continued to baby-grunt and babble in response, rocking and rolling, and wanting her to play with him for a little while longer before she carried him back to his crib for the night. He was just not ready to call it a night and go back to sleep yet. He adored the tall brunette; and he adored all of the special attention she so freely gave to him—not that his mother didn't shower him with all the special attention a little baby could ever need, too. But it was different with Monica. And it always had been, since the instant he had been born, and had opened his eyes to this brave new world of his. Her angelic face, her dark-chocolate, sparkling brown eyes, and that beautiful, bright smile of hers had been the first face, the first pair of eyes and the first smile he had ever seen. And he remembered. He remembered it very well, as he reached back up and patted his little baby fingers along her warm, soft, smiling lips.

She chuckled again then tenderly kissed his chubby little stubs for a few seconds, before sucking on his index finger as he squealed out again in delight. "Oh shhh, Wills, shhh. It's sleepy-time, sweetheart. Let's go sleepy-time, okay? Hum? Can we do that? You and I go sleepy-time? Please? Sleep, sleep, sleepy-time,” she gently coaxed him again, then began to hum his favorite bedtime lullaby as she gently rocked him in her arms, slowly and steadily soothing him back to sleep.

"Um, um, um, um... um, um, um, um..." he baby-grunted some more, rocking and rolling, as he fought the need to close his eyes and allow Monica's gentle and easy movements, and soft, musical hums, to soothe him back to sleep. But, within moments, no matter how hard he tried to fight it, it had begun to work, and soon, he was back to sleep.

Monica smiled as she rose up from the floor, carefully cradling him in her arms. She placed a gentle little kiss on his forehead, then padded back down the hallway and towards the nursery. Soon, she would be back in bed herself, and she could hardly wait she was so exhausted.


THE BEDROOM:
6:30 AM:

"Dana, come on now, you need to take this, take your next dose," the brunette said as she sat down on the edge of the bed, handed Dana a glass of ice-water and then another dose of Amoxicillin.

"Um, ugh, crap," Dana groaned as she took the two pills from her hand, placed them inside her mouth, then took a nice long swig of ice-water from the glass to help her swallow the two large pills.

Monica smiled, then leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. "Think I need to take your temp?"

"Umum... Don't feel... quite as... ach, ach... feverish... ach... ach..."

"Coughing seems better."

"Umhum."

"Okay. Well let me go check on Wills, all right?"

Dana nodded as she reached down and began to stroke the furry little brown-black kitty-cat curled up beside of her. She didn’t mind sharing her bed with a little kitty-cat—especially Monica's kitty-cat.

Xena began to purr more contentedly.

Monica got back up and headed for the nursery. Wills had begun to whimper a little bit through the baby-monitor again. So, she wanted to catch it early this time, before it got any worse, and maybe calm him down a little more easily this time than before, over the last several times during the night.

Dana collapsed back down to the bed, exhausted.

Xena barely chirped a peep in sympathy.

Monica leaned up against the hallway wall for a moment herself, exhausted as well. What's more, she was beginning to wonder just how much longer she could handle this marathon without getting a little bit more uninterrupted sleep herself. She had been up and down and back and forth and in between the nursery, the bedroom, the living-room and the kitchen since early Wednesday afternoon—not counting her continual try all day yesterday and even most of the day today to work from home, as best she could, via her cell-phone and laptop. She was beginning to feel thoroughly depleted of any energy herself at this point. Moreover, she could not afford to have her own immune system break down and become weak, and then get sick herself. But luckily, it was early Friday morning and tonight was the beginning of the weekend. So surely that would give her some relief in regards to work, the office and her ever-tenacious X-Files partner, John Doggett.

"...ow... owha..."

"Oh God," she groaned under her breath as she heard another little baby-whimper come from the nursery. She then rose back up off the hallway wall and headed down to the whimpering little William.


MAIN LIVING ROOM AREA:
9:27 AM:

Monica sat on the couch, stroking little Xena with one hand while she held her cell-phone in the other, talking to John Doggett.

Suddenly, Dana walked out of the hallway and into the living room.

Monica glanced up, making eye-contact, then winked at her and smiled.

Dana smiled back—her puffy, dark-circled eyes and puffy, pale-colored cheeks saying it all. She still felt like shit.

"John, I can't, not right—Hum. Well," the brunette commented into the phone. "Oh frig. Okay. Bring it over here and I'll run a profile from this end," she said as she glanced back up at the redhead and winked again.

Dana smiled, then walked over to the couch and barely ran her fingers through her lover's thick, dark-raven hair, silently saying, "Good morning," to her as she then leaned down and gently kissed her on the crown.

Smiling again, Monica immediately reached up with her free hand and clasped Dana’s for a moment, squeezing it gently, and silently saying, “Good morning,” to her beautiful auburn-haired lover as well.

The petite auburn-haired beauty then straightened back up, letting go of her lover's hand, and went to the kitchen, fixed herself a glass of ice-water, grabbed the little bottle of Amoxicillin off the kitchen counter, and then came back over to the couch to sit down next to her. She then eased herself down on the couch as Xena instantly hopped up into her lap. She chuckled. She really did like this little kitty. This little dark, raven-black-haired kitty was just so sweet and tender, just like her long and tall, dark, raven-black-haired mommy, Monica. She nuzzled noses with her for a moment as Xena then lay down, satisfied, and then curled up in her lap. Dana smiled again, then opened the pill bottle, shook out a couple of tablets, then set the bottle down on the little table by the couch.

...Whoa... "John, hang on a minute," Monica said into the receiver then eased the phone down into her lap. "Honey, are you sure it's not too early to take another dose?"

"Huh?" Dana furrowed her brow.

"You took that last dose around six-thirty. It's only been three hours," she reminded her.

"Oh. Okay. Well... ach, ach... ach... achhachhachhh... achooooooooooo... Shit," Dana responded.

Monica chuckled as she reached over and began to massage her shoulder-blade.

Dana then picked the little pill bottle back up, dropped the two tablets back down inside of it, closed it back up, then set both her glass of water and her antibiotics back down on the little table. "Shit," she sighed wearily, then leaned in against Monica's warm, comforting shoulder.

"Oh sweetheart, come here, let me hold you," Monica whispered to her as she instantly wrapped her free arm around her, kissing her on the crown, then pulled her in against her shoulder, and then raised the cell-phone back up to her ear. "John, could you do me a favor? Could you stop by the store and pick up another bottle of Robitussin DM, bring it with you? Yeah. Umhum. Okay. Thanks. See you then." She then hung up the phone and placed it down next to the little pill bottle and glass. "Well, how are you feeling this morning? Any better?" she asked as she began to massage the little redhead's neck and shoulder-blade all over again.

The ailing little redhead just shrugged.

"Oh," Monica chuckled then reached up and felt along her forehead. "Uh-oh, I better take your temp again. Feels like we need to add some more Tylenol to your regiment, get this fever back down."

The ailing little redhead just shrugged again as she collapsed a little more cozily down into her lover's arms. She didn’t know. She didn't care. That's what Monica was there for—to think through and figure out these kinds of things.


THE KITCHEN:
10:30 AM:

"Dana, come on now, you have got to eat something. This—Look—It's just chicken soup, and look. It's got little stars in it. Not the noodles. That should be much easier to swallow, wouldn't you agree?" the brunette coaxed her again as she had been for the last five minutes.

Dana just shrugged. She was being so stubborn and difficult this morning with the idea of eating anything. But she needed to eat at least a little something to help gain her strength back, and most importantly to help her body and immune system continue to fight the plaguing double-infection.

"Dana, honey, please. You really need to eat something."

The ailing little redhead just shrugged again.

"Hah.What? Do you want me to fix you something else, or—?"

"Umum," the ailing little redhead finally grunted, then fell into another fretful spell of deep coughs, then blew her stuffy nose. "Ohhh, umm. Shit... Mmm, I know I'm... ach, achach... being... somewhat... ach, ach... difficult... ach, ach... but... ach, ach... ach... mmm..." she groaned.

"Hum, maybe just a little. But I love you anyway," the brunette teased as she reached over and ruffled her lover's soft auburn hair for a moment.

Dana chuckled and smiled, then finally began to take her first bite of warm soup. Her sinuses had begun to clog up earlier in the night, too. And now. ...What next?... she thought as she swallowed her first bite. Her breasts and nipples were beginning to swell and hurt so badly, too, from lack of breast-feeding. Her breasts were becoming painfully engorged and overly-full with breast-milk. And it hurt—bad. "Oh gosh," she sighed wearily again. She was just so sick, coughing and sneezing, and now had a horribly runny nose, too. And now this—her breasts, milk-ducts, glands and nipples starting to swell and get so painfully sore, too. "Ohhh. Good grief," she sighed again, frustrated as hell, as she took another quick bite of her soup.

...Knock. Knock...

"Who's—?... ach, ach, accchhhahchachhh..." she tried to ask through another coughing spell.

"Shhh, should be John, hope he's got that cough medicine, jeez," Monica responded as she headed for the door.

"Ee-ow," Xena chirped as she scampered along behind her.

"...ach, ach, achhhachhhachhachhachhh... Crap!" Dana added to the conversation.

"...owha... owhaya... owhaya..." William's soft little baby-cries began to filter into the living room all over again. He didn't want to feel left out.

"Oh for Godsakes," Monica actually fussed at the irony as she opened the door. All that possibly could were either chirping, coughing, crying, or something within this happy household. And she felt as if she could chirp, cough, cry, or do all three herself. For she had just about had it, as she was so worn down to a frazzle, too.

John was standing there in the hallway smiling and holding a file folder in one hand with a brown paper sack in the other.

"Hey, John. Hang on. I've got to—" she said, planning to go and get the whimpering little William from his crib.

"Umum, I'll get... ach, ach, achachachh him... ach, ach, ach..." Dana responded as she instantly got up instead to go and retrieve her whimpering little son.

"You sure?" Monica asked, glancing over to her, concern written all over her face.

"Umhum," the ailing little redhead nodded as she entered the hallway and headed towards the nursery to her ailing little son coughing all the way.

Monica then turned back towards the door and the waiting John. She suddenly glanced down, then unexpectedly yelled, "XENA!" quite loudly indeed, as John about jumped out of his skin from the sudden yell. "Get your furry little ass back in here now!" she yelled at her curious little cat again.

Xena stopped just outside the doorway, dead in her tracks.

Monica then cocked an eyebrow at her as they stared each other down for a couple of seconds.

"Eow," Xena huffed, still ever so curious, then quickly decided that she best reconsider, as her dark, raven-haired companion stared her down. "Phew," she blew out a frustrated little puff then turned and reentered the apartment.

Her dark, raven-haired companion cocked an eyebrow at her yet again.

"Phew," she huffed again under her breath.

Monica chuckled at her frustrated little huff as they continued to stare each other down in silence for a couple of more seconds.

Finally, the little kitty scampered off towards the nursery to go and check out what her favorite little redhead was doing with the frustrated little baldhead.

The two dark, raven-haired beauties—one a human, and one a feline—seemed to have shared quite an intense spiritual understanding for those last few seconds.

Monica chuckled again, as she watched her furry little friend scamper off, out of sight, then glanced back up at the waiting John. "Whew. Hey. Sorry. Come on in," she said as she opened the door a little more widely and invited him in.

He chuckled, "Looks like ya gotcha hands full 'round here."

"No shit, Dana's so sick. Jeez. Did you get that—?"

"Yeah, no problem. Brought ya some more soup an' crackers, too. And some juice. Orange juice. Couple a bananas, apples, some tangerines, and some cough drops and—oh I dunno. Bunch a stuff."

"Oh wow! Thanks, John," she replied. Sometimes she forgot just how thoughtful her best friend could truly be in times like these.

"Yep. Looks like you're gettin' yourself a crash course in bein' a husband or somethin'," he teased her as he entered the living room then handed her the brown sack of groceries.

Monica giggled. "I'm not a husband. I'm a—Well—Hell! What do you call me?"

John chuckled, too. "Beats me. Maybe a wife?"

"Hum, I don't know either, but—she's smaller."

"Oh. So it's in the size then?" he chuckled again.

“Hum. Well. No. Not usually, but—” she said, then hesitated.

Then they both cracked up laughing at the inside joke.


2:51 PM:


Dana lay on the couch dozing—her fretful coughing and sneezing easing up somewhat after taking another round of Robitussin, Amoxicillin and Tylenol. Monica had gone back to the bedroom, hoping to get a little nap herself. Xena lay on the bed beside her, catnapping, too. And little William had been sleeping a little more peacefully as well, probably out of nothing more than pure exhaustion himself. His little tummy still hurt, but his exhaustion had taken over for at least the last couple of hours.

...Ring... Ring...

"Um, Scu…" Dana jumped awake, then glanced around for a moment, sighed, then rose up a little bit from the couch to answer the phone.

…Ring… Ri…

"Scully."

"Uh, Dana? It's Doggett. Did Monica get a chance to look at that case-file by any chance?"

"Um, I um... I dunno... ach, ach... ach..."

"Okay, well, could I talk to her for a moment?"

"Um, she's resting... ach, ach... right now. Maybe I can hel... ach, ach... ach..."

"Oh no, don't worry about it. Tell her ain't no problem. I can handle it."

"You sure?... ach, ach... ach..."

"Yeah, you just get some rest. Call me if ya need anythin', okay?"

"Okay. Thanks."

"Aw right then. See ya later?"

"Right. Later... ach, ach... ach, achooooooooooo... Shit..."


4:25 PM:


Monica sat on the couch with little William in her arms, cooing and whispering to him, trying to coax him into latching-on to the fake nipple of this latest warm bottle of baby-formula, and yet having absolutely no success at all with trying to feed him his afternoon meal. William was one smart little baby boy. He was exceptionally smart—quite possibly even supernaturally smart. And even though he was not quite fifteen-weeks-old, he had already concluded that something about this fake nipple, and the funny tasting "milk" he sucked from it—that his stand-in mommy was trying to stick inside his mouth right now, at this very moment—was creating all of the hurt and burn inside his little baby-gut. And he had become as stubborn and determined as his ailing mother had been earlier in the day, with her soupspoon, when it came to drinking anything more from this nasty old fake nipple.

"Ohweeeyooo!" he suddenly squealed out again, quite loudly in frustration.

"Shhh, Wills. Now come on, sweetie. I know it's not what you want, but it's all I've got, sweetheart," Monica responded to his frustrated little squeal as he reached up to her mouth and poked his chubby little fingers inside.

Dana had gone back to the bedroom, about an hour-and-a-half ago, and had amazingly dropped back off into a nice and peaceful sleep. All of the medications, cough medicine and the like had knocked her out on her ass for a while. And luckily, the bedroom door was closed, or she might have been awakened by her son's fretful squeals and little grunts of frustration.

"Ooohweeeyooo!" he squealed out yet again as he began to pat Monica's boob through her shirt.

"Oh sweetie, no, shhh, there's nothing in there," she whispered, beginning to giggle at his antics. How was he supposed to know there was nothing in there? They sure looked and felt like his mommy's. "Oh, shhh, Wills, nope. Sorry. There's nothing in there. No milk. No juice. No nothing for little Wills," she baby-cooed to him again, giggling at the irony.

He grunted and kicked, then squealed out, "OoohWEEEyooo," even louder than before in frustration, pushing the head of the baby-bottle out and away from his mouth, as Monica tried to ease it back in. He was just not going to take that bottle. He was not that gullible. He was one smart little baby boy. And he knew what he wanted. A boob. Like Mommy's. Not that crappy old baby-bottle full of funny tasting "milk", with that fake nipple protruding along the top.

"Oh for Godsakes," Monica said, frustrated herself with the situation, as little Wills kept patting and squeezing on her boob, then suddenly grabbed onto the protuding nipple and pulled on it—hard—through her shirt and bra. "Aowh!" she yelped out herself. "Jeez! No wonder your mummy gets so sore," she observed, chuckling again, as she covered his little hand with her palm.

He then began to whimper and sniffle, wrinkling his little baby-brow in frustration, just on the verge of another good cry. He was hungry. But he did not want to suck on that damn old fake nipple anymore—not when he knew there was a real one in very close proximity.

"Oh jeez, Wills, for Godsakes." She could almost burst into a fit of giggles at the irony. But then there was nothing funny about his beginning little whimpers and sniffles. "Oh sweetie, I'm sorry, but there's nothing in there. No. There's just nothing in there for little Wills, just a plain ole boob, nothing spectacular," she said, chuckling at her comment, as she began to move the baby-bottle back in towards his mouth. Dana would probably have a difference of opinion on her boobs, and how plain, boring or scrumptiously spectacular they might be, depending on what she needed them for.

"OoohWEEEyooo!" he squealed out again in frustration pushing the baby-bottle away.

"Oh my God. Wills?" She didn't know what else to do. But she didn't want his frustrated little squeals and whimpers of anger to awaken his sleeping mother. ...Oh my God... So, she was just going to have to come up with another plan, and fast. Because what she was trying to do, and for the last few minutes, was obviously not working. "Hum," she sighed, then had an ingenious idea. "Okay, baby boy. So you want the real thing, huh?" she teased him then began to unbutton her shirt and then unhook her bra.

It really came in quite handy, in times like these, to wear a frontally-hooked bra. But then she most always wore a frontally-hooked bra. She never knew when this little baby boy's mommy might want to pat and squeeze, and then reach in and grab onto a handful of her boob either. Like mother, like son. They both loved big boobs. Obviously for different reasons of course. But then as little William grew up and into his adolescent years…

...Hum. Oh boy. Like mother, like son... she grinned, then moved the dangling cups of her bra and sides of her shirt out of the way as little Wills patted and squeezed on her big, bare breast then suddenly recognized a tight, taut tit positioned proudly on top of it. It was a little darker, and a little bigger than his mother's, but it was still a tit, all the same, and shaped quite similar to his mother’s. He instantly latched-on to the hardened tip with his mouth, suckling to his little heart's content—for the next few seconds at least. But, unfortunately, there was nothing coming out of this big tight, taut tit. Nope. Nothing. Nothing at all. No milk. No juice. No nothing for little Wills. And no matter how hard he suckled, patted and squeezed on it nothing would come out of it.

He began to whimper, coo, sniffle and fuss all over again in frustration, kicking and rocking, as he patted along the jiggling jug with his palm. Monica quickly squirted a small amount of baby-formula out along her nipple, placing the fake nipple just to the edge of her own. William quickly suckled up the warm, wet liquid as Monica again eased the fake nipple in a little closer to his mouth. He whimpered and grunted, then pushed and shoved it away again in frustration, then latched back onto Monica's warm, taut tit.

"Oh my God, no way," she said, amazed. He was just one smart little baby boy.

For the next couple of minutes she and little Wills continued to play this little game of latch-on-and-tease as she tried to get him to finally accept the bottle-nipple instead of her own Monica-nipple, and ultimately drink his meal.

After another minute or so it finally worked—little Wills ultimately giving in and settling in against her warm soft breasts, suckling contentedly from the fake nipple and drinking the funny tasting "milk”, as his little cheek and head stayed cozily buried in against the real thing. Her breasts.

Monica continued to chuckle at the scene. It was just so sweet. And he was just so sweet. Maybe she should have tried something similar to this from the beginning. But then the chemical content of the baby-formula was still not the same as his own mother's milk. Which meant, he still might begin to suffer from another tummy-ache before his next mealtime. ...Ohhh. For Godsakes... She truly hoped not. But, at least for now, this was working as she settled her body and back a little more comfortably in against the backrest of the couch.

"Hum," she sighed contentedly enjoying the unfamiliar sensations. So this was what it felt like to nurse a baby. Well, almost. At least this must be similar to what it felt like to nurse a little baby. Because even though he was now suckling on the bottle-nipple and not her Monica-nipple, he was still all snuggled in against her bared motherly breasts—listening to her heartbeat and luxuriating in the warmth of her bared naked breasts, as it comforted him, soothed him and helped him feel safe and secure inside his stand-in mother's arms.

"Hum," she sighed contentedly yet again, enjoying the feel of his sweet little baby-clutches and sweet little baby-palms and fingers patting along her breasts—so innocent and trusting—trusting in her completely to take care of him and do for him everything he needed until his mother could do so again. He was happy. And she was happy. More than happy to take care of him—this beautiful little baby boy, this precious little living offspring of Dana's—her lover's, her partner's, her long-lost soulmate's miracle man-child.


5:11 PM:


Dana walked out from the bedroom, down the hallway and into the living room, little Xena scampering along behind her, as she found her slumbering son lying comfortably in her lightly dozing partner's arms who was still reclining comfortably on the couch. She cocked an eyebrow. Monica's shirt was lying wide open, with her naked breasts fully exposed, and the empty baby-bottle still in her hand. ...Hum. Well, well, now. And what do we have here?… she mused, grinning from ear-to-ear, as she glanced back down to her slumbering son. He was still occasionally suckling on her lover's tight, taut tit in his sleep, using it as his pacifier. "Oh," she lightly gasped, her heart melting instantly. ...Ohhh... What a beautifully sweet scene—her baby, and her other baby, lying there comfortably together, the little one in the other one's sheltering arms, perfectly satisfied and content.

"Oh God," she lightly gasped again then tiptoed in a little closer.

Monica suddenly opened her eyes, startled somewhat.

"Shhh no, don't get up," the redhead quickly reassured her as the brunette began to rise from the couch.

The brunette smiled, then glanced back down at little Wills' face and cheek—his little mouth still holding her tight, taut tip snuggly inside his mouth.

"Oh," Dana smiled again, happily observing her little son's peaceful slumber. "He hasn't had any more bad reactions, has he?" she asked referring to his consistent colic since switching to the baby-formula some time yesterday afternoon around this time.

"Umum, not yet," the brunette responded smiling, too, then began to carefully rise up, so as not to disturb him and yet give his mother the room she needed to sit down on the couch, too.

Dana smiled again then eased herself down on the couch next to them. She then reached over and cupped her little infant son's crown. ...Oh wow... Something about seeing him all snuggled in against her lover's bare breasts and chest just melted her heart all over again. It was just so sweet, so innocent, and so full of love. She then reached up and cupped her lover's cheek.

Monica smiled, then double-winked at her.

"I love you," she whispered.

"Um, and I you," Monica responded softly.

"Thank you for... ach, ach... everything you've been... ach, ach... ach... do—"

"Shhh, don't try to talk," Monica whispered again reaching up and taking Dana's hand inside her own. "It only makes the coughing worse," she said kissing her knuckle. "Besides, there's no need to thank me. I'll always be here for you and Wills. Always," she winked then placed another tender little kiss along the redhead's knuckle.

...Ohhh... Dana smiled then leaned in closer against her shoulder. "Always? Really?... ach, ach... ach..." she barely whispered, even though she already knew the answer.

"Umhum, always. As long as you'll have me that is, but you already knew that," Monica teased her as she leaned in and kissed her on the crown.

"Um. Umhum," Dana responded smiling again and nodding.

And she did. She knew that. But she always loved hearing those sugary sweet words of love and commitment from the brunette; especially when she felt so sick, vulnerable, and miserable, due to the double-infection, viral and bacterial, that was still plaguing her body.

"Come here, honey, let me hold you, too, okay?" Monica whispered again as she quickly wrapped her free arm around the little redhead, causing her to ease more intimately down and rest her own soft cheek in against her other warm soft breast.

"Hum," the little redhead sighed contentedly yet again. She had never felt so happy. Even if her physical body was feeling quite puny, her spiritual self had never been so happy. She then leaned down and lightly flicked her warm, wet tongue across her unsuspecting lover's hardened tight and highly sensitive, pointed tip, causing it to tighten even more rigidly-erect, teasing it a little.

"Oh. Dana?" Monica huffed in response to the overtly sexual tease. How weird the sensations were to have an innocent little baby sucking on one side, and having his mischievous mother—using her incredibly talented, warm, wet and slick tongue—flicking and licking on the other side—attempting to seduce her with her highly-arousing skills of sexual seduction.

Dana just chuckled, then suckled and tugged on it a few more seconds before ultimately letting it go, then kissed it, then licked it again, wetting it a little more, then kissed the area just above it, along the top of the brunette's bare breast, then finally settled her cheek back dwon against it.

"Hum," Monica sighed again, happy and content at having the two people most important people in her life, whom she loved most in all the world, all snuggled in close along her body and breasts.

Xena then hopped up onto the couch, too, instantly curling up inside the little redhead's lap.

Monica giggled.

Dana chuckled.

"She loves you, you know," Monica observed.

"Yeah, I know," Dana grinned. "We've got a thing goin'... ach, ach... Xe and me... ach, ach... ach..."

"Oh yeah?"

"Umhum. I've been meaning to tell ya... ach, ach... I've got a... ach, ach... thing for... ach, ach... dark, raven-haired... ach, ach, ach... acchacchh, achacchachhacchh... Shit!"

"Shhh, don't try to talk honey, just rest," Monica whispered again, leaning her head down and kissing her on the crown once more.

"Hum. Oh my," Dana just sighed again, frustrated, then buried her cheek in even more intimately against her dark, raven-haired lover's bare breast and chest again, then wrapped her arms more securely around the brunette and her little son.


THE KITCHEN:
7:29 PM:

"...WEEEEEyaa... WEEEEEyaa... WEEEEEyaa..." William continued to scream out at the top of his lungs as Monica held him, doing everything possible that she knew to do to try and relieve his distress. She had read, reread and reread again every single suggestion listed in the most recent up-to-date baby-book Dana had in the nursery on how to deal with an infant suffering from colic. And she had tried every single one of the suggestions it had mentioned, plus tried to come up with a few ideas on her own, and yet he was still screaming and squealing at the top of his lungs.

She had taken him for a couple of short rides in the car, walked him up and down the sidewalk, and then up and down the hallway, just outside the apartment door for a few minutes, giving him a change of scenery, then tried bouncing him gently up and down on her knees as she rolled him over onto his little tummy, placing his little baby-gut along a tightly-rolled towel, supposedly to help ease his discomfort by putting pressure on his aching little baby-gut.

Then she had tried setting his baby-carrier on top of the clothes dryer, strapping him in and then turning it on, using the vibrations of the machine to possibly help soothe his baby-gut, too. But nothing had worked. And actually, the clothes dryer suggestion had seemed to make his colic even worse.

Then she had tried humming and dancing to the 100% Guaranteed to Calm a Colicky Infant Musical CD Dana had on hand in the nursery again—dancing and singing, humming and swaying softly to the music, carrying little William around in her arms, cuddling and snuggling him close—as they listened to the "100% Guaranteed" CD together. And, well, the 100% Guaranteed to Calm a Colicky Infant CD had not worked either. Moreover, she wondered if they could get their money back on the damn "100% Guaranteed" CD. But then nothing she had tried had worked. Nothing. Hence, she was just about at her wit's end, for there was just not much more she could do until his mother could somehow express some breast-milk from her painfully engorged breasts and then they could begin to change his diet back to what he was used to.

John was standing there in the living room with her, rubbing the squalling little tyke's back and shoulder-blades too, and trying to help ease his distress as well. They both loved this wailing little man-child; and Monica had called John at home, just over an hour ago, and had asked him if he could stop by the store and purchase a different brand of baby-formula for her to use for William's next meal, hoping it might help ease his severe colic. John had been more than willing to do so, and had picked up a few extra items for Dana and Monica as well while at the supermarket, helping in every way that he knew to relieve all of the stress Monica, and Dana, were under while Dana was so sick. But, unfortunately, after William's last feeding with the newest brand of formula, it appeared to have made his colic even worse.

"Oh John, God! I—I don't know what to do anymore, I just—I don't know what to do," she said as her own eyes flooded with tears from hearing William's persistent cries, and knowing that his mother was just down the hallway in the bedroom trying fervently to express some breast-milk from her painfully engorged breasts and give him what he so desperately needed, too. "Oh God, I just—I don’t think I can take this much longer," she whimpered again as suddenly her own flood of tears began to trickle down her cheeks.

"...OhWEEEEEyaa... OhWEEEEEyaa..." Wills screamed out through his fretful cries.

"Oh God honey," she whimpered again in response as she leaned her cheek in against his crown, clutching him even more securely against her chest, then began to full-out cry right along with him. "Oh God, shhh, sweetie, I'm so sorry. I'm trying. I swear, I'm trying baby, but—I don't know what to do anymore," she whispered softly into his ear.

It was breaking her heart listening to his fretful little wails and cries, and feeling his distress inside her gut, as she also felt all the distress his mother was in, too, back in the bedroom, trying to express her breast-milk as the excruciating pain caused her to cry, too.

"Oh God." She glanced up to her best friend for a moment. "John? What should I do? I don't know what to do anymore," she whimpered again through her sniffles as little William screamed out to the top of his lungs along her shoulder. The two people she loved most in this world were suffering tremendously. And apparently, there was not a damn thing she could do about it.

John reached up and stroked her other shoulder in support. "Well. I think ya need to call Mez Scully. I think ya need her help. You got way too much goin' on 'round here and—hell! I don't think—damn! I'd a never been able to do all you been doin' 'round here, and—"

"Oh no, I—I don't want to do that. I—I can handle it, I just—"

"...WEEEEEyaaa... WEEEEEyaaa... aaaWEEEEYaaa…" Wills screamed out again.

"Oh God, sweetheart," she whimpered again in response to his fretful little cries, burying his crown in against her chin, as she began to shower his little baby-crown with more baby-kisses, trying so desperately to calm his soul. "Shhh. I love you, sweetie. I love you. Shhh, but Moni doesn't know what to do anymore. No, I don't know what to do, to make it all better. Oh God, Wills, I'm so sorry. I'm not doin' too good am I? No, Moni's not doin' so good," she muttered through her tears, beginning to feel like such a failure as his second mother while she continued to plant more little baby-kisses all over his crown.

"...WEEyaaaa... Weeyaaa... AhaAhaaaa..." he cried in response, kicking his little legs against her ribcage, and yet somehow understanding her extreme frustration, too.

"Monica, come on now," John said, quickly deciphering her fragile emotions and feelings of failure. He did not want her thinking she was a failure—not after everything she had been doing so successfully over these last few days. "Mon, now look. I really think ya need to call Mez Scully. I mean—this is gettin' to be—way outta hand. This has gotten way over our heads, and—Well—If nothin' else, you need some support."

"No John, I—I can't, I—Oh God," she hesitated as William suddenly screamed out so loudly against her eardrum it almost burst it on that side.

"Why not? You need some help. You need her. And Dana needs her. And that ain't nothin' to be feelin' ashamed of—admittin' you need some help. Crap! My wife—When Luke—Her mother used to help with him all the time when he was a little tyke, and—Well—All I'm sayin' is, you need some help. You're dog-tired and, you need some support, some relief. And I ain't been much help, so—"

"Oh God John, yes you have. You are! Jesus! You've been my life-saver tonight, okay?" she said through her tears and William's screams.

"Well, I ain’t been doin’ much. You need someone else like Mez Scully. Someone with more experience."

Monica glanced back up at him, making eye contact through her teary eyes. He had a point.

"Mon?" they both suddenly heard Dana's weak voice echo from the bedroom.

"Oh God," Monica whimpered in response. How could she deal with this—Dana calling for her, as she held her screaming little son in her arms? Dana did not need to see Wills like this, not while she was trying to express her breast-milk.

"Here," John said, immediately understanding the situation and reaching out for little Wills, freeing her up temporarily from this wailing little boy, so she could quickly go to his weeping mother.

She instantly handed him over to him, then reached up and wiped her own tears away as she hurried down the hallway towards his mother.

*******

"Hey honey, I'm right here," she said as she hurried into the bedroom.

"Oh Moni God, I can't... ach, ach... achachachachachh... Oh God," the little redhead whimpered, fretful tears rolling down her cheeks, as she lay there leaned back against the headboard of the bed, coughing, crying and exhausted. Her breast-milk was just not "letting-down" so she could express some of it into the warm, sterile baby-bottle she still held in her hand. Mainly because she was so tense and frustrated from the excruciating pain along her swollen areolas and nipples. Plus, hearing her wailing little son's screams of agony in the other room was not helping with the situation either. She was just so tense and felt such pressure to force her breasts to do what God intended them to do—express breast-milk. But the excruciating pain and her tensely frustrated mindset had really become the enemy at the moment.

"Oh God, baby," Monica whimpered in empathy. It was just breaking her heart to see Dana like this, too, along with little William screaming at the top of his lungs in the other room. ...Jesus!... What more did they have to go through tonight before they could all get some relief? "Well, have you tried putting that hot towel over your chest yet? Not over your nipples, but just your chest?" she asked as she eased down on the bed next to her, instantly reaching over and clasping her hand.

"Nooo! Nooo, damn it! It hurts to much!" Dana wailed, then began to cough again. "Achachachh... ach, ach... achachachchh... Oh God Moni," she whimpered again through her tears.

"Oh shhh," her partner soothed as she immediately leaned over and placed a kiss along her forehead. "Shhh, oh God honey, I'm sorry, but—isn't that what the doctor suggested? Or—Or maybe to try a hot shower and—?"

"Nooooo," the little redhead wailed out yet again in pain and frustration. She was a medial doctor herself, and she knew what the protocol was to help deal with this kind of situation; and a hot, soothing and relaxing shower just might do the trick. But it just hurt too much—the thought of trying anything that might touch her excruciatingly painful, engorged breasts, areoles and nipples. It just hurt too much.

Monica then eased her palm over the top area of her lover's left breast. ...Oh my God... The area was so hot, swollen and hard to the touch. She then eased her palm down along the side of the aching breast, still feeling the extreme heat, swelling and hardness. "Oh God, honey," she whimpered in empathy as her eyes watered up again with unshed tears. ...My God!... Why were they all having to go through this? Why was her lover having to suffer so much pain, while so sick? Why was William having so suffer so much colic while his mother was so sick? And why could she not figure out how to fix it, and relieve the two people she loved most in the world's pain and distress? ...Jesus!... She hadn't a clue what to do to help ease William's colic or her lover's pain, except to continue to take care of Dana's son, as Dana intermittently tried to get her breast-milk to flow into the baby-bottle.

"Will you, help me?" Dana suddenly whimpered through her tears.

Monica cocked an eyebrow. "You—I—Will I—? What? You want me to—What? Help you draw milk?"

The ailing little redhead nodded.

...Oh my God... The raven-haired beauty about fell of the bed. ...Holy shit!... "Um, okay, but—give me a minute, will you? Let me get John and Wills situated first. Okay? Okay, baby? I love you," she whispered then leaned in and gave her a quick little peck on the lips.

Dana nodded, her eyes and nose so red from her tears.

*******

Monica then walked back out into the main living room area. ...Oh wow! Holy shit!... she thought. ...Holy shit!... She was still amazed at what Dana had just asked her to do. What more would she be asked to do tonight, before this day was finally over?

"Well? What's the verdict?" John asked as he held Dana's screaming little son in his arms.

...Oh boy... If only he knew. Monica just shook her head and lifted an index finger up to her lips, silently communicating with him to keep quiet, as she picked up her cell-phone from the little table by the couch and quickly found Margaret Scully's phone number. She then hit the redial button beginning to solicit a little help after all.

…After a couple of rings...

"Hello?" Margaret Scully answered.

"I um, Maggie? It's Monica. Monica Reyes."

"Oh. Well hello dear, what—?" Margaret suddenly hesitated as she heard a squealing, screaming baby in the background. And those little baby-squeals and screams sounded quite familiar indeed. "Monica?" she said.

"Maggie I—We've got a problem. And I don't know what to do anymore."

"Okay," Margaret responded calmly, then began to listen very carefully to everything her daughter's sweet friend began to tell her about all that she, Dana and little Wills had been going through over the last several days.

…After a couple of minutes of hurried conversation...

"And I just—Maggie? I—I'm—I—" Monica stammered, about to cry all over again.

"Well my goodness gracious, dear," Margaret responded. "You've had your hands full. Why didn't you call me sooner?"

"I—I don't—I guess I thought I could handle it and—But—Wills. He's getting much worse and I—I—And Dana—"

"Well, my goodness gracious, dear. Sounds like you have been handling it. But you need some help," Margaret said, then paused for a moment as she glanced over at the nearest clock. "Listen, I can be there by eight-forty, eight-forty-five at the latest. Would you like for me to come and help? Help you with William?"

"Oh, could you?" Monica asked, jumping at the chance to have someone older and much more experienced to come and help, too.

"Well of course, dear," Margaret said. But she felt that she had needed to ask the brunette first, before assuming anything. She did not want to force herself on her daughter and her daughter's newest friend.

"Oh God, Maggie, just let yourself in if I don't come to the door, okay? John's here right now, so—"

"I'll be there in an hour. Maybe less."

"Okay. Oh God. Thanks."

"Of course, dear. And you've been doing everything right. Sometimes nothing you try works. So you just have to let him cry."

"But—?"

"I know. That's hard to do. But sometimes that's all you can do, just let him cry. But right now you need some relief for yourself."

"Oh no. I can handle—"

"No Monica," Margaret stated firmly. "Now ask Agent Doggett if he would be willing to take William out for another ride, just until I get there. And then, somehow, we need to get you some relief and get Dana calmed down, too. So, may I speak to her, please? Just for a moment?"

...Uh-oh... "Um, well—I can tell her whatever you need—"

"Just let me speak to her. Okay?"

... Oh God... "I um, okay," Monica responded as she began to walk down the hallway and towards the bedroom.

*******

She entered the bedroom with a sheepish little expression on her face.

Dana cocked an eyebrow.

"Dana, I um.Your mom wants to talk to you," she said holding the phone against her chest.

"My mom?" Dana whispered barely audible.

Monica nodded, not responding.

"What? I don't—Did you—?" Dana instantly furrowed her brow.

"I um—Yes, I—I um—I called her. And I um—Well—Just talk to her, okay?" Monica choked out.

Dana gave her "the look". They had already discussed it earlier in the week that they would not call Dana's mom in on a rescue mission. Dana wanted only Monica to help with William, not her mom. She did not want her mom knowing how sick she truly was, or what all she had been going through this past week trying to take care of herself and William. Mainly, she wanted to prove to herself and to her mom that she was a good mother and could handle just about anything that came up with little Wills, along with continuing to work full-time, too. But she had not anticipated getting so devastatingly sick. But then Monica was there, too. And Monica could handle it, couldn't she?

"I um. Dana?" Monica whimpered as suddenly a rush of tears began to stream uncontrollably down her face. ...Oh God. Please don't get angry with me... she thought as she stifled her sobs and then handed Dana the phone.

Dana's lower lip dropped. ...Oh my God. Monica?... Her heart lurched inside her chest. She had no idea that Monica had been feeling so much frustration and so overwhelmed with everything until she saw the river of tears begin to stream down her lover’s face. "Oh God Moni, come here," she whispered softly before answering the phone.

Monica just shook her head, sobbing uncontrollably, as she left the room and left Dana with her mom on the other end of the line.


7:56 PM:


Dana still lay on the bed leaned up against the back headboard frustrated as hell with the situation. But at least her tears had slowed. Plus, after talking to her mom, she did feel better. And she had to admit, she did feel better knowing that her mom would soon be coming over to help out and help relieve Monica of some of the chores.

Dana had not realized just how hard it had been on Monica over these last few days, and just how much pressure and strain she had put Monica through, as she tried to take care of both William and Dana, along with trying to work from home, too. It was just too much to put any one person through—especially one with no experience at all with a colicky infant. But then everything had been going along just fine until William had begun to have such bad reactions to the baby-formula. ...Ohhh... And now if she could just get her breast-milk to start flowing again, and feel up to breast-feeding again, everything would return to normal rather quickly. But her nipples hurt too badly to even consider breast-feeding over the next couple of days. So, she was just going to have to come up with another plan, and somehow get her breast-milk to "let-down". Somehow.

Monica eased back in next to her on the bed and then whispered, "Mmm, think I need another," teasing her and giving her another sweet and tender little peck on the lips.

Dana smiled, closing her eyes into the sweet and tender little peck on her lips.

Monica rose back up for a moment and smiled, then double-winked at her, then eased back in whispering, "Mmm, gosh honey, I think I need another," as she gave her another sweet and tender little peck on the lips.

Dana smiled again, then chuckled in spite of her frustration and drying tears.

Monica grinned too, then leaned in once more. "Mmm, baby. Maybe, one more? Hum?Maybe, baby?" she teased as she gave her another quick little peck on the lips.

Dana chuckled. "I um... Mon?... I... ach, ach... I might... still be... ach, ach, contagious... ach, ach..." she whispered.

"So?"

"So... you could... ach, ach... get sick... ach, ach... ach…"

"But you haven't had a fever now in almost three hours," Monica countered.

Dana giggled.

Monica had sent John out for another joyride with the screaming little William about fifteen minutes ago, then put some very relaxing classical music on, lit some small candles all around the bedroom, lit some incense, dimmed the lights all throughout the entire apartment, changed into her pajamas, helped Dana change into a different set, too, and was now gently kissing her and caressing her all over her face, her beet-red little nose and her pale-white cheeks in an attempt to calm her down and relax her frustrated soul. And it was working—slowly. Dana was more relaxed, but not quite enough yet to help with expressing her breast-milk.

"Honey? Let's take a shower together. Want to?" Monica whispered into her ear.

"I um... Umum. It'll hurt... ach, ach..."

"Not if I'm in there with you. I'll shelter you from the water if it's too much for your chest. Okay?"

"I um... But... ach, ach... I still feel... a little... ach, ach... lightheaded."

"Okay, but I'll be right there. I won't let anything happen to you. I promise. Come on, let's give it a try. Let's just take a shower together, okay? Just a warm, sudsy shower. I really need to take a shower with you."

Dana glanced up making eye contact. "You do?... ach, ach… Really?... ach, ach... ach…" she wondered.

"Umhum. I know you're still sick, but—baby, I really need to take a shower with you. I—I need to feel you—See you—Be with you, okay? I just—I want to hold you—And feel your body next to me, okay? Nothing else. Just a shower, okay?"

Dana smiled then leaned in for another nice, tender and juicy little wet kiss along her lips. "Mmm, need to... feel you, too... ach, ach... But... I'm not up to... ach, ach... ach..."

"Oh honey, God. I know," Monica chuckled. "Baby, I don't mean to make-love to you. I just—I want to feel you next to me. That's all, okay? I just want to feel you, run a trail of soapsuds all over your body—and feel all of that warm, steamy water run down our backs and..." she shrugged.

Dana smiled again.

"Besides, I bet it'll help clear up your sinuses."

Dana nodded as she began to rise up from the bed. A warm, sudsy, steamy-hot shower did sound rather nice. Really nice, actually. Especially if Monica shared it with her, and protected her aching chest from the hot, steamy water.


IN THE SHOWER:
8:11 PM:

Dana leaned her steamy-wet naked back, body and butt up against Monica's steamy-wet naked chest, body and mound, needing her to help steady her in the shower-stall as she still felt somewhat weak. But she was enjoying this spontaneous little steamy-wet hot shower they were sharing together.

"Mmm, that's it, honey," Monica moaned into the sensations as she ran a sudsy hand down along Dana's soft and sudsy naked abdomen while her other hand traveled a little farther down along her lover's outer thigh. "Mmm, that's it, just lean into me, baby. I won't let you fall. I'll hold you. So close. So tight," she whispered into her ear as she wrapped an arm more securely around her abdomen.

"Umm, God, this feels so… ach, ach… good," Dana moaned as she leaned her back and backside in more securely against Monica's body, her soft little ass pressing even more intimately against Monica's soft furry mound.

"Oh God, you feel so good, baby, so good, mmm," Monica moaned again into the highly-arousing sensations as Dana's soft little butt-cheeks began to rub her in all the right places. "Oh honey," she moaned again as she felt her pulse rate begin to rise. …God… "Mmm, honey want me to wash your back and shoulders again? Hum?" she quickly asked as she moved her mound back and away from Dana's tantalizing little ass.

“Umum. You've already done that… ach, ach…” Dana responded as she suddenly grabbed onto Monica's soapy hand sliding along her outer thigh and moved it in just a little closer to her most intimate of treasures between her legs.

...Oh my goodness... Monica chuckled, then eased that same hand and bar of soap in even closer between the redhead's legs and began to lather up her curly soft patch, running her soft, soapy fingers through the dark-auburn curls, then barely dipped down along her most intimate of treasures, for just a moment, causing Dana to groan more loudly into the sensations again. "Mmm," she moaned herself at the tantalizing sensations then eased her hand and the soap bar back up and all around the little redhead’s lower abdomen and hips again, running a trail of soapsuds all along the way.

"Ohhh... God…" Dana moaned again into the wonderful sensations. "Jesus.... What are you... doing? Just… ach, ach… playing with me? Hum?... ach, ach…"

"Umum. Trying to relax you."

"Um. Well… It's working…"

"Oh yeah?"

"Ohhh... Mmm... Umhum."

Monica smiled as she wrapped her arms more comfortably around the little redhead for a moment. She had already soaped up Dana's back and backside a couple of minutes ago, running the soap bar all along her back, backside and shoulder-blades, bathing her, so gentle and easy, and then using her cupped hands to rinse the soapy water from her steamy-hot body, so gentle and easy, then dipped her sudsy hands down again along Dana's inner thighs.

"Umm, ohhh.... Monica?..."

"Hum?"

"What are you—?... Ohhh…"

"Relaxing you, baby."

"Um-um, oh no... it's not… ach, ach… relaxing me… anymore… ohhh..."

"It's not?" Monica teased her again as she slid her soapy hands up a little higher along Dana's inner thighs and just to the edges of her outer labia.

"Oh God, Mon... touch me… please..."

Monica cocked an eyebrow.

As sick as she was, Dana had become quite sexually-aroused, wanting Monica to go ahead and touch her—touch her most intimate of treasures—and make sweet, hot, passionate love to her inside this shower stall. But Monica was not prepared to do that, not while Dana was still so sick. Her baby still did not have enough physical strength in reserve to be making-love tonight. And besides, making-love had not been Monica's ultimate goal, anyway. All she wanted to do was help Dana to relax, and hope that the steamy-hot water and mist would help Dana's engorged breasts begin to express milk. And, with a little more time of gentle and easy strokes along Dana's tired and achy body, she knew it would work. She just had to be patient, and let nature take its course. Because, in the past, when Dana would finally relax from a long, hard work-day and then begin to get somewhat sexually-aroused, her breasts would occasionally begin to leak, for no apparent reason at all, and without any form of manual stimulation. Actually, it was quite fascinating. Because Monica would not even have to touch Dana's breasts or nipples for it to happen. And yet, on occasion, those tantalizing little tits would begin to leak breast-milk from her heightened sexual-arousal, and especially if she had begun to climax. It was quite fascinating indeed for Monica to watch Dana's breasts and areolas swell as they made-love, and then suddenly sprinkle a little warm, wet breast-milk all over her. Oh yes, Monica had a plan, and it had nothing to do with actually making-love to her woman tonight. No. It had everything to do with relaxing her and then turning her on just enough to give her some much-needed relief from her achingly painful and engorged breasts. Plus, little William would get the benefit too, of having his mommy's breast-milk for dinner, too. Which should help tremendously with his colic.

"Umm, Moni?" Dana moaned again into Monica's gentle and easy touches as Monica slid her soapy hands out along Dana's outer thighs and hips again. "Please… Oh God baby, please… ach, ach… make-love to me…" she whimpered as she again grabbed onto Monica’s soapy hands and moved them back down to where she wanted them—right between her legs.

Monica giggled. “Honey? We can’t. You can’t. Not tonight.”

"But I… oh God, Mon... ach, ach... I want you so bad... ach, ach..."

"Oh baby I know, and I want you, too. But—not tonight, honey. Just a shower, remember?" Monica reminded her as she eased her hands back out and up along Dana’s lower abdomen.

“Oh God baby, just… touch me, okay?... ach, ach… I need you to… touch me… ach, ach…”

“Umum, not while you’re still so sick and coughing like that.”

"Oh, but baby... please," Dana pleaded again as she suddenly turned all the way around and faced her lover while the steamy-wet-hot water splashed and cascaded down her lover's back and shoulder-blades, sheltering her painfully engorged breasts from the spraying water, just as Monica had promised her she would do. "Oh baby, please, God... I… I need you to… ach, ach… make-love to me…"

"Umum," Monica responded, chuckling again at Dana's ever-increasing sexual needs. "No honey, you're not strong enough yet. Maybe tomorrow, okay?" she said then kissed her gently on the lips. ...My goodness... She wondered just how much longer it was going to take before Dana's breasts would finally begin to spurt a little love milk.

"Okay. But God! I... I can’t believe how much I... ach, ach... want you. I... ach, ach... as sick as I am… I… I want… ach, ach…"

"Shhh, I know, baby. And I want you, too. But not tonight. We can't. You’re not up to it, okay?”

"Mmm, okay. Then hold me, just hold me," Dana whispered as she leaned in against Monica's steamy-wet chest and breasts for a nice, warm hug.

"Oh sweetheart, okay. Are you feeling weak? Hum?" Monica whispered as she grabbed on a little tighter to her sweetheart's hips and backside.

"Umhum. Just a little."

"Okay, hang onto me while I finish soaping you up."

Dana nodded then coughed a couple more times as Monica leaned back, then turned them both around in the shower until the steamy-wet-hot water cascaded down Dana's back, shoulders and backside warming her body back up again.

She could not afford to let the little redhead's ailing body get chilled, and especially while she was still so sick from her bronchitis and flu. "Better? Getting warm again? Hum?" she whispered as she sheltered her from the water then kissed her yet again on the lips, then began to cup the warm, steamy water with her hands again, allowing it to gently cascade down the sides of Dana's shoulders and arms.

Umhum," Dana grunted then began to giggle.

Monica smiled as Dana began to giggle even more. "What are you giggling about, hum?" she teased.

Dana just giggled some more, then leaned her head in against Monica's bared naked upper chest again. She then reached up and began to play with those tantalizingly scrumptious, bared naked breasts, teasing her with her seductive little manipulations.

"Oh my goodness," Monica giggled too, as she began to concentrate and force her body to ignore the highly-arousing manipulations Dana was doing to her, on her chest and breasts, as she then began to soap up Dana's quite alluring chest as well—easing her sudsy palms down along the sides of each hard, hot and painfully-swollen breast, and being extra careful not to accidentally touch one of the excruciatingly painful and yet tightly-erect little nipples.

"Mmm, feels good," Dana moaned into Monica's gentle and easy touches along her aching breasts. "God, that feels... ach, ach... so good," she said as she then took a couple of handfuls of Monica's soft, fulsome breasts inside her palms again, and began to cup and squeeze the beautiful mounds of flesh, then lean in and lightly flick her tongue across the tip of a nipple, and then the other, causing Monica to jump from the sensations.

"Oh! God! Dana? Mmm, that feels good, baby," she reacted to Dana's highly-arousing manipulations in spite of her resolve.

"Mmm, really?" Dana teased her as she began to flick her thumbs a little more insistently over the tips of her tight, taut nipples.

"Mmm, oh! Umhum, oh! Dana?"

"Hum? What?" Dana teased again, acting all innocent with her highly-arousing manipulations along her lover's tautly-erect nipples.

"Mmm, you know what. You know that—gets to me—every—ohhh, God—Honey?"

"Hum?"

"Dana?"

"Yes?"

"Mmm, God, you're makin' it awfully hard on me, baby."

"Aww. Am I? Really?" Dana teased her again as she increased the rhythm of her highly-arousing ministrations along Monica's tingling nipples and swelling breasts.

"Mmm. Oh yeah," the aroused brunette moaned as she eased in and began to kiss the redhead fully on the lips and then down along her neck and throat, still letting the steamy-hot water from her cupped palms run down along Dana's sudsy breasts, gently rinsing them off from all the soapy water. "Oh Dana, my God, I want you too, okay? I do, but—we can't," she panted again. "We can't, not until—Oh!" she gasped.

The mischievous little redhead had leaned in and begun to suck hard on a tight, taut tip. "Hum. Are you sure?" Dana whispered so low, seductive as hell, as she increased her efforts and began to suck and tug hard on her lover's nipples, driving the brunette wild with desire.

"Mmm, mmm, ohhh God." Monica was beginning to wonder if she could maintain her control and keep her libido in check after all. She was trying, focusing, concentrating. But if the tenacious little redhead didn't stop soon. "Ohhh, baby, God."

"Hum?" Dana teased bumping her mound in against the brunette's groin.

"Oh! Honey? God..."


MAIN LIVING ROOM:
8:19 PM:

John sat quietly on the couch with little William next to him still in his baby-carrier sound asleep. Somehow, the little tyke had finally gone to sleep as he drove him around all over downtown Georgetown.

...Knock. Knock...

...Oh crap... He glanced over at the door. Nobody else was presently available inside this apartment to answer the door but him. Monica and Dana were obviously in the shower together. At least he would assume that they were in the shower together, since when he had called out earlier no one had come out from the bedroom or the bathroom to greet him. And too, since sitting quietly on the couch, he had begun to hear slight little giggles, moans, groans and other more erotic sounds—intermingled with light conversation, much too muffled and soft for him to understand—coming from down the hallway and apparently from inside the shower-stall. He knew they were in that shower-stall together. And he knew why. His best buddy Monica, was in the process of doing what she did best, relaxing Dana, and calming her soul, so that maybe she would soon be able to try again and express some breast-milk for little William.

...Knock. Knock...

...Aw crap... "Hang on," he barely responded to the second pair of taps along the door then carefully began to get up from the couch so as not to disturb the sleeping little William. Suddenly, he heard what sounded like a key turning the deadbolt lock to Dana's apartment. ...Uh-oh... He glanced at his watch. ...Oh crap... It had to be Mrs. Scully, because no one else but Mulder and Monica had a key to Dana's apartment. Not even him. Moreover, Mrs. Scully was early—much earlier than any one of them had anticipated. ...Oh well. This ought to get interestin'... he thought, grinning from ear-to-ear. He wondered how Mrs. Scully would react when she began to realize that Monica and her daughter were down the hallway taking a shower together.

The door began to open. He quickly caught the older woman's eye, motioned for her to be quiet then pointed down to the sleeping little Wills sound asleep inside his baby-carrier.

"Oh," Margaret grinned then tiptoed into the room, closing the door behind her. She then barely whispered, "Where are the girls?"

"Shower," he whispered back.

She cocked an eyebrow. ...The shower?... "Both of them?"

He nodded, grinning from ear-to-ear. He just could not help himself. And, well, she had asked.

Just then another cute little fit of giggles came filtering down the hallway and into the living room.

Margaret glanced down towards the sound. ...Oh my... Those little giggles had most certainly come from the shower.

John grinned again in spite of himself. ...Lucky dogs... And what he wouldn't give to be in there with them.

Then, suddenly, they both heard another fit of gleeful giggles. Bright, happy giggles. Giddy giggles full of joy and happiness. ...Oh my... Margaret cocked an eyebrow. The two friendly acquaintances looked at each other.

John just shrugged.

Then suddenly, Monica's gleeful voice came echoing into the living room—very loud and clear, "Oh God! Yes! Dana! Yes! Yes! That's it! Yes!"

...Oh my... The two friendly acquaintances looked at each other again.

John just shrugged as they began to hear more happy giggle and giddy laughter filtering down the hallway from the shared shower-stall.

...Oh my, my... Margaret closed her eyes, not even wanting to think about it. ...Oh my, my... All of those happy giggles and giddy laughter was coming from two very happy, giddy and wet women inside a shower-stall. There was no doubt about that.

...Oh yeah... John felt the room get hot—damn hot.

Margaret just cocked another eyebrow. ...Oh my... She would not even let her imagination "go there".


IN THE SHOWER:


"Oh honey! God! Look at that! Look! You did it!" Monica giggled again as she quickly eased another baby-bottle in next to Dana's other leaky breast.

Dana giggled, too. "Yep. No, no, no wait... ach, ach... That always happens... ach, ach... ach... They always do that. Let me do this one first... ach, ach... ach..."

"Okay," Monica said all happy and giddy that Dana's breast-milk had finally begun to leak from not one but both her breasts, at the exact same time. Amazing! And Monica had already been prepared for it—having some empty and sterilized baby-bottles ready to grab, just outside the shower-stall, for when the miraculous event began to happen. "Oh God, Dana," she whimpered again as happy tears began to flood her eyes.

Dana glanced up. Happy tears had begun to flood her eyes too, along with happy tears of relief—much-needed relief. For her achingly engorged breasts as well as for her ailing little son's needs.

They looked at each other, locking gazes, then broke out into another fit of hearty giggles and laughter, as Monica quickly turned the water off, grabbed the closest bath-towel, and then began to dry the little redhead's body off as she continued to ooze her smooth-flowing breast-milk into the baby-bottle.

"Oh God, Dana. I never thought you could be more beautiful than when you were carrying him. And then, I never thought you could be more beautiful than the night you gave birth to him. But, now. Wow! My God, Dana. I swear," she choked on her words as she began to carefully remove Dana's shower-cap, keeping Dana's head and thick auburn hair warm and dry.

"Oh, shush. You're gonna... ach, ach... make me cry."

"But, God honey, it's true! My God!" the brunette gasped again then had to hesitate as she began to cry from pure happiness.

"Oh, shhh. Shush," Dana responded then began to cry more happy tears, too.

"Oh jeez, would you look at that?" Monica laughed heartily through her tears as she handed the little redhead another baby-bottle, then helped ease her into her robe, one arm at a time. She didn't want to take any chances that her ailing little lover might get chilled from the night air and shower as she pumped her breasts for little Wills.

"Um, thanks. You want to... ach, ach... do this one?"

Monica cocked an eyebrow, grinning happily, then moved in and began to gently cup and squeeze Dana's other painfully engorged breast with both hands as Dana held the baby-bottle in place. "I'm not hurting you, am I?" she quickly asked, a little nervous that she may cup or squeeze Dana's aching breast too hard.

"Umum. Stings at first, but—oh God. I needed this."

"Okay, but, wait. Wait a minute," Monica said as she suddenly stopped her squeezing sensations for a moment.

Dana cocked an eyebrow.

The brunette then leaned in and kissed her quite passionately on the lips.


MAIN LIVING ROOM:
8:33 PM:

"…ehyaa… ehyaa… oweehyaa…" little Wills continued to cry while his grandmother held him close, snuggling him in against her chest as John looked on.

Monica suddenly came skipping into the room, all happy and giddy. "Look Wills, lookie here at what Moni's got, some more Mommy-milk. Yeah, Moni's got some more Mommy-milk, just for you, sweet baby," she said holding two full baby-bottles of warm, freshly-squeezed breast-milk in her hands.

"Oh wonderful," Margaret responded glancing up and smiling. "Did she—?"

"Yep. The hot shower worked," Monica replied, smiling, too.

Little William quickly recognized her then happily squealed out and instantly reached out his little arms for her wanting her to take him from his grandmother.

"Ohhh, come here sweet baby," she cooed to him hurriedly handing the two baby-bottles over to John and then instantly took him from his grandmother's arms. "Oh yes, sweetie, look. Mommy did it. Yeah, Your mommy did it, just for you, sweet Wills, she got you some milk," she cooed to him again, swinging him around and around in her arms, as he began to squeal more excitedly in delight. Somehow, he understood that things had changed, and to his favor.

Margaret nodded, smiling again, and yet she was somewhat taken aback that her own grandson preferred the tall, giddy brunette right now—her daughter's newest best friend—over her. But she promptly took the two baby-bottles from John's hands and then headed for the kitchen.

"Monica? We need to mix it, half-and-half, with the formula, okay? Before you give it to him," she said.

"Oh. Okay. I didn't—"

"Always mix it half-and-half at first. Or the change is too sudden and—"

"That makes sense," John chimed in.

Just then Dana entered the living room, holding another baby-bottle full of warm, freshly-squeezed breast-milk in her hand. "Mom. You're here early," she discovered.

"Oh look! It's Mummy!" Monica blurted out as little Wills squealed out yet again in seeing his mother again. He loved his mummy, and he wanted his mummy to come over to him.

Dana just chuckled as she walked over and kissed him on the crown, Monica leaning him down a little closer to her. She then wrapped an arm around the brunette's waist forgetting that her mother was standing there in the kitchen next to them.

Monica winked in response, saying everything that needed to be said with that one little wink.

Margaret smiled again ignoring the highly suggestive behavior, then said. "Well, well. I see that your Monica here has been handling the situation just fine."

…Whoa. My Monica?... Dana and Monica both mused, each quite surprised indeed by that comment, as they both raised an eyebrow in quiet response. Dana then let go of her waist, suddenly realizing just how uncharacteristically free she was being with her affections towards the taller woman.

Margaret just smiled again. She was still not about to let her imagination wander. But, she was beginning to see the light.

Monica then glanced over at John, cocking an eyebrow at him, as little Wills began to baby-grunt and play with the buttons on her pajama-top.

He just shrugged, not knowing exactly what to say after Margaret's comment. He then quickly got up from the couch. "Well. Anyone up for pizza?" That ought to work. Good pizza was always a good thing for settling emotions running high.

"Oooh yeah! Sounds great!" all three happy, heartily hungry women say in unison.

"Well, aw right then. I'll be back, with a pizza," he said quickly deciding to leave the three women alone for a little while. All of the three-way-female-induced-estrogen flooding into the room was a little more female-pheromone than his testosterone-filled body felt like handling at the moment. Besides, with three women and a baby, surely little Wills was in good hands.

"Um, John, make it an extra-large… ach, ach…" Dana said.

"Yeah. And bring us a six-pack," Monica chimed in.

"Hah, Monica?" Dana huffed.

"What? I'm not going to get drunk, I just—I need a beer," Monica defended herself.

"Yeah, and Agent Doggett? Make it a Sam Adams Triple Bock, if you can find it," Margaret added.

"Hah, Mom?" Dana huffed again.

“Oooh, that sounds nice. And if you can’t, then how about a little Dogfish, Raison D’ Etre?” Monica chimed in again glancing at Margaret.

“Oh, my goodness, you know your beer, young lady,” Margaret grinned.

Monica just shrugged smiling and winking in response.

“Hah? You two! Good grief!” Dana huffed again.

“What?” both raven-haired, beer-loving women said.

“Hah. For Crissakes.” Dana just shook her head.

"So. Some Sam Adams TB or Dogfish? Aw right, see what I can do," John said. …Damn!… Either brand was some strong-ass beer. He'd rather just stick to his trusty old Bud Light.

He then left.

Margaret glanced back around to her daughter, and then to Monica and little Wills, who was still happily pulling and tugging on her pajama-top button. "Dana? How are you feeling?" she finally asked, beginning to feel somewhat awkward with the situation.

"Fine. Better… ach, ach… achachachhhh…"

"She's still got that nasty old cough though," Monica said walking over to stand beside the older woman. "So, that's where I screwed up. I should have mixed it, half-and-half, first," she said as she watched Margaret begin to reheat some baby-formula over the stove.

"Yeah, well, not necessarily, but—usually it soothes the tummy more easily. It depends on the richness of the milk. I always did it with Dana when she had a tummy-ache."

...Ohhh... Monica smiled as she glanced back over her shoulder and watched the little redhead sit down on the couch. "So Dana had the colic, too? When she was a baby?" she asked.

"Umhum. At times."

Dana glanced up. "I did?"

"Umhum. Yes, dear. You used to keep me up all night with the colic."

"Wow. I did?... ach, ach… You never told me… ach, ach… that… achahchchhhhachh… Shit."

"Shhh," Monica reacted to Dana's beginning coughing spell. "Honey, don't try to talk, okay?"

"Hah!" Dana huffed, cocking a frustrated little eyebrow at her.

...Oh my... Margaret pursed her lips for a moment, not quite sure how she felt about hearing this tall, dark and gorgeous woman standing beside her call her petite, light and gorgeous daughter "honey" in front of her just now. …Hum. Well, well… And, obviously, this tall, dark and gorgeous woman standing beside her and holding her infant grandson so protectively close in her arms had not even realized it, that she had just let that sweet little heartfelt "honey" slip from her lips in regards to her daughter. …Oh my. Hum. Well, well… She smiled with beginning amenable understanding as she continued to stir the warming baby-formula.

…Oh my goodness gracious… How could she not have seen it before now? How could she not have admitted to it—the closeness, the intimacy, the love? It was so obvious now, as she stood there in her daughter's kitchen, with her daughter's best friend, partner and probable lover standing there next to her holding her daughter's only son so protectively close in her arms. How could she not have seen, recognized and admitted to it before now? After all of these months of occasionally running into Special Agent Monica Reyes with her daughter and little grandson? And after all of the numerous times that Agent Reyes had been there for her daughter—helping her, comforting her, protecting her, taking on the role of partner and best friend—both before and after William's birth. How could she not have seen it, recognized it and admitted to it before now? Especially for Monica to have been the one to actually help deliver William, too, as she somehow protected his mother from all those who were trying to hurt her? …Oh my goodness gracious… She sighed. No wonder they had fallen so deeply in-love with each other, after all that they had been through together. No wonder. How could they have not?

"Maggie?" Monica barely whispered almost inaudible.

"Hum?"

"Thank you for coming. I—I don't—"

"Oh no, dear, glad I could help," Margaret responded softly as well.

Monica smiled then leaned in and gave the older woman a warm, tight one-armed hug. She knew that Margaret had begun to feel somewhat awkward with the situation. So she had quickly decided that she needed to let the older woman know just how much she had needed and appreciated her coming out this late in the evening to help out with the ailing little William and Dana. "You don't know how much I appreciate—"

"Oh now hush, you don't need to say anything. That's what I'm here for, okay? Call me any time, Monica. Don't ever hesitate, okay?" Margaret said—her heart warming and settling into Monica's gentle and easy ways of reassurance.

Dana glanced back over her shoulder from the couch to see what the two women in the kitchen were up to. "Hey?... ach, ach… What are you two… ach, ach… cooking up back there? Hum?... ach, ach… achachachhhh… achhooooooo!... Shit."

Monica and Margaret both just chuckled.

"Me-o," Xena suddenly chirped from the hallway.

Margaret jumped, her eyes widening in surprise. "Oh. Well, my goodness. Who's this?"

"Xena," Dana and Monica both said in unison.

"Xena? That's a pretty name. How do you spell it?"

"With an X. X-E-N-A," Monica answered.

"Oh. Well. I don't think I've ever heard of it before."

The pretty little dark, raven-haired kitty then scampered into the living room and jumped up onto the couch next to Dana.

Dana chuckled, then reached down to pet her beautiful little brown-black furry friend. "Yeah, Monica occasionally dreams about this medieval warrior wom—"

"Hah. Dana?" Monica fussed instantly interrupting Dana's comments. That was a little bit too much of a personal thing to be sharing with Dana's mother.

"Oh. Sorry, I… ach, ach…"

"You dream about a warrior woman? A medieval warrior woman?" Margaret repeated amazed.

"Um, yeah, well, kind of, I mean, I um—"

Dana began to laugh.

"Hah." Monica cocked an eyebrow at her. "Will you—? Could we—? I like the name, okay?" she finished as Dana began to laugh more heartily. "Hush. Will you just hush?" she added for the little redhead's benefit.

Dana snorted then laughed even more heartily. But, she would keep her mouth shut. She would not tell her mother about some of Monica's other, more outlandish and yet highly-invigorating dreams about great, white snow-capped mountains and palomino horses. Horse-drawn buggies and gold-plated chariots. An old 1923 Dodge Brothers truck. Or an old 1933 two-door Chevy Sedan. Or a vivid dream about the Great Wall of China. Or even more vivid, a dream about Sri Krishna, the Eighth Avatar of Lord Vishnu. And then there was the dream about a horrific, bloody battle during the Civil War days, somewhere in the upper mountains of East Tennessee and North Georgia. Fist-fights, sword-fights, bow-fights and gun-fights. Pole-fishing, fish-fisting and trout fishing in the creeks and lakes. Leather bras, suede underwear, cowboy chaps and spiked-heel boots. Japanese Kimonos, Chinese Robes and other more ornately-colored robes. And all of the other more incredibly bizarre dreamscapes that Monica occasionally fell victim to.

Her lover was amazing—simply amazing—with her wild and vivacious dreams and nighttime imagination. Her dream-world was downright addictive it was so vivid and alive with adventure and romance. Whether it were Ancient times, Grecian times, Medieval, Babylonian times, Renaissance times, Victorian times, the Middle Ages, the Dark Ages, or even the days of Julius Caesar, Queen Cleopatra, Alexander the Great, or even Jeanne d'Arc. And then there were the more recent turn-of-the-century events, the days of World War I, the sinking of the Titanic, the Roaring-Twenties and the Stock-Market Crash of 1929. Monica's dreams were something to be treasured and almost envied compared to Dana's more consistently troubled and fear-inducing dream-world.

Margaret nodded as little Wills began to whimper again in frustration. He was beginning to get hungry. "Monica? Why don't you take William over to the couch, and I'll bring you a warm bottle as soon as it's ready, okay?"

"Okay," Monica agreed then turned for the living room. "Come on sweetie, let's go see Mummy," she cooed, planting a wet little kiss on his crown.

Dana and Xena scooted over to give Monica and Wills a little more room to sit.

Margaret smiled again, suddenly realizing that she rather liked the situation after all. She really liked the love and admiration she was feeling coming from her daughter's probable lover. She was not completely sure of that quite yet—whether they were actually lovers or not—but things certainly seemed to appear that way. And, well, she may just have to come to terms with the fact that her daughter was, in fact, a lesbian. And in a lesbian relationship, whether she agreed with it or not. Moreover, with all that she knew about Special Agent Monica Reyes, she could not have chosen a better partner for her daughter anyway. …Hum. Well, well… Things could be a whole lot worse than having a gay daughter and a beautiful, loving and gentle young woman for a daughter-in-law. She still preferred a son-in-law, but this was not so bad she thought, as she turned from the kitchen—a warm baby-bottle full of half-and-half in hand—just in time to see her daughter lean up and steal a wet kiss from her lover. …Oh my… the older woman quickly turned around and cleared her throat. ...Well, well... She was not quite ready to see that though. Nope, not quite.

Monica quickly glanced back over the couch—fearful that the older woman might have caught a glimpse of that stolen little kiss. "Maggie? Are, um—? Do you need anything? Need my help?"

"Um, no dear, everything's fine, and it's ready," the older woman replied as she quickly prepared herself for possibly even more revealing displays of affection, then turned back around—warm baby-bottle in hand—and headed for her daughter, her grandson and her newly discovered daughter's girlfriend.


THE BEDROOM:
9:47 PM:

"Achhachachaach, acaccchhaccaachhh, oh God, acaccchhacchacchh," Dana continued to fretfully cough as her mother sat on the bed next to her.

John had left about thirty minutes ago after bringing a scrumptiously delicious pizza and a six-pack of two different brands of beer over for all of them to enjoy. Monica had finished feeding, diapering, and then ultimately re-bathing little William again, about fifteen minutes ago, and was now in the nursery humming and rocking him to sleep.

"Achhachachaach, acaccchhaccaachhh, ohhh, mmm, acaccchhacchacchh," Dana continued to cough as tears soon began to stream down her cheeks. "Achhachachaachh, oh God, Mom, God, acaccchhaccaachhh," she whimpered. Her lungs and chest were hurting dreadfully from all of the coughing—not counting her sore and aching breasts. And the cough-drops were just not helping any more.

"Oh my goodness, dear," Margaret responded. "When can you take that next dose of cough syrup?"

"Achhachhach, I don, achhachhaacch, know, achhachhaacch. Moni knows, achachaacchhh. Oh God! It hurts! God! Achachhhachh."

"Shhh, okay, dear. I'll be right back," Margaret said as she eased up off the bed.

"Mom? Achachhach, tell her to… achachhhach… come here, achachacchh… I need, achaccchh…"

"Oh my goodness gracious. Okay, but she's putting William to bed right now."

"I know, but… achachachh… I need her, I need... achachacchh…ohhh God..."

Margaret just shook her head as she headed down the hallway towards the nursery. …Oh, my goodness gracious… Her daughter's girlfriend had had her hands full—Obviously! And for days it seemed! with an ailing infant and an ailing infant's ailing mother on her hands.


THE NURSERY:


Monica glanced up from the rocker, little Wills in her arms, as Margaret quietly entered the nursery, quite unexpectedly indeed. She had turned the baby-monitor down low and had begun to play their routine baby-sleep-time musical CD in the background to help filter out any intrusive noises as she lulled little William to sleep. She smiled then winked, making the hand gesture to come in but stay quiet.

Margaret smiled as she closed the door, then whispered, "How are you doing, dear? How's my grandson?"

"He's okay. Almost asleep."

"Well, good. Thank the Lord."

Monica cocked an eyebrow. "How's Dana? I keep hearing that bad cough, even over the music."

"She's um—when can she take that next dose of cough syrup?"

"Oh. My gosh." Monica glanced at her watch. "Hum, not for another thirty minutes. Then she needs to take all of her meds."

Margaret nodded.

“Her coughing always gets worse thought, this time of night.”

Margaret nodded again. That was not unusual for anyone suffering from bronchitis. "Well, um, Monica? Listen. Why don't you let me take him while you go to her? She’s um, she's asking for you. Okay?"

...Whoa... "Really?" Monica furrowed her brow. "She's asking for me?"

“Umhum,” Margaret nodded again then knelt down in front of the rocker, reached up and then began to take the slumbering little Wills from her arms.

"Okay, well—"

"It's all right, I've got him. Go take care of my daughter."

...Whoa... Monica cocked an eyebrow yet again. ...Holy shit. Alrighty then... She then got up from the rocker and left the nursery for the bedroom.


THE BEDROOM:


Monica entered the bedroom, concern written all over her face. "Hey, honey, what's wrong?"

"Achachhhacchhach, acchhaachachhaach, oh God, Moni. It hurts! So bad!… achaaachachh…"

"Okay. Well, I can't give you any more cough medicine until ten-thirty, okay? Okay, baby?" she whispered as she quickly sat down on the bed next to the fretfully coughing little redhead.

Dana nodded as another wave of horribly deep coughs hit. After a few seconds, she panted, "Ohhh God… I don't, I don't think… ach, ach… I don't know... how much more… ach, ach, ach… of this I can… take, achachachach…"

“Oh sweetheart, we’re gonna do something different tonight, okay? Something we should have done long before now,” Monica said as she quickly got up from the bed to retrieve the waste paper basket, moved it next to the bed, and then sat back down. "Okay baby, I want you to roll over. Roll over and put this pillow underneath you. And then lean your head over the trashcan, just in case, okay?"

Dana nodded as she began to roll over in the bed and put the rolled up pillow underneath her and then lean her upper body over the edge of the bed. Monica then quickly straddled her rump and thighs, cupped her palms and began to use a deep, penetrating percussion on Dana’s upper back and shoulder-blades attempting to loosen the built-up fluid inside her lungs, cupping and drumming her palms hard along her lover's upper back and shoulder-blades.

“Ohhh God, achachhachh, achaachachhh,” Dana continued to cough, and wheeze, and ache, and moan. ...Ohhh, God!... The pain inside her lungs was horrendous from all of the coughing. But, this would surely ease the cough in time if she could literally cough-up some of the loosening phlegm.

After a few minutes of deep, hard hand-percussion, the little redhead finally began to cough-up the loosened phlegm. She quickly moved to the bathroom to get rid of the vile tasting sputum as Monica kneeled in just behind her for added support. She had needed to cough-up this infectious crap for days!

After a few more seconds of profitable coughing…

"Oh God, Moni, I… achachhachh… it hurts… so bad… achachachh…" she whimpered again as tears began to roll down her cheeks once more from all the pain and agony her aching chest and sore breasts were causing.

"Oh honey, come here," Monica whispered as she instantly lifted her exhausted lover up from the floor and into her lap, and then just held her there. "Oh, shhh, it's okay, it's gonna be okay. That should help."

Dana nodded through her tears. And it should help. Too bad neither of them had thought of it before now to use good, strong, hard hand-percussion along Dana's upper back and shoulder-blades to help loosen the fluid inside her lungs.

After another good minute of just holding her in her lap, Monica whispered, “Want me to take you back to the bedroom?”

Dana nodded again through her tears.

"Okay. Oh frig," she panted. "I—I'm not sure if I can—"

"Achach, achh, it's okay, ach, ach, achach," Dana quickly understood as she eased herself up from her lover's lap. It would be much too hard for Monica to try to lift her up from a sitting position herself. She didn't want her baby to throw her back out—not if she could walk back to the bedroom by herself. But her lover was so sweet to have even offered.


BACK IN THE BEDROOM:


“Okay, in you go,” Monica grinned as she tucked the sniffling little redhead back into bed.

“Achach, ach… Mon, stay... achachach... stay here… with me… achach, ach...”

“Okay,” Monica whispered as she eased into the bed beside her. She didn't need any more convincing than that. Dana's mother was down the hallway taking care of little William anyway. Which gave her the much-needed time, opportunity and freedom to devote to her ailing lover. Moreover, her heart ached for her lover and all of the pain she was in. There was nothing quite like the ache inside a chest when one had been coughing so hard and so deep for so long; and then to add in the pain of her still somewhat engorged breasts, too? "Jeez, come here, honey," she whispered in sympathy as Dana then rolled into her arms, draping her whole body over the top of her, as her warm, wet tears splashed along her chest. "Oh, shhh, honey, I'm sorry you're so sick," she whispered again beginning to plant little kisses along her sniffling, whimpering lover's crown, feathering her fingers through her hair and holding her close.

Dana nodded as another wave of coughing tried to overtake her.

"Oh God, baby, I wish there was more that I could do," the brunette groaned again in sympathy, just holding her, as Dana tried to suppress some of her fretful coughs.

"Achach, it's okay… just, ach, ach… don't want you… ach, ach… to get... sick… ach, ach..."

"I won't. You haven't had a fever now since around five."

"Really? That's good," Dana panted exhausted. And that was a good sign, along with coughing up and getting rid of some of that infectious sputum just moments ago. "Oh God… ach, ach… it hurts… ach, ach, ach… to even… breathe… ach, ach… ach…" she whimpered again as more tears streamed down her face.

"Oh, baby, I know. But it'll get better soon," Monica soothed as she continued to hold the weary little redhead and whisper to her, lightly stroking her back and shoulder-blades, loving her and comforting her with her soft, gentle whispers and tender little caresses, planting sweet little kisses all along her cheeks and forehead. "Mmm, I love you so much, you're so beautiful, even when you're sick."

"Ach, ach, ach… Shush…"

"But I love you. And I have to tell you. You know that, don't you?"

"Umhum," Dana grinned. "Ach, ach, ach…You’re spoilin' me…"

Monica chuckled. "I certainly hope so. I need to spoil you. You need to be spoiled. And I can't wait to make-love to you again either. And you know what? I'm gonna…" Monica continued to whisper all sorts of erotic fantasies into her ear.

The little redhead began to giggle at the wildy erotic fantasies and descriptions of some highly energetic lovemaking that the highly erotic, energetic brunette continued to whisper into her, describing just what she was going to do to her when she made-love to her again, just as the redhead's mother walked into the bedroom, quite unexpectedly indeed, carrying a glass of ice-water, the bottle of cough syrup, and all of her daughter’s other medications in her hands. ...Holy shit... Wasn't she supposed to be in the nursery taking care of William?

"Oh! I'm sorry, I…" Margaret stammered.

"Mmm, no. Come on in," Dana panted, exhausted, as she leaned more heavily in against her lover. She was just so fatigued from all of her coughing and crying at this point until she just did not care anymore what her mother saw, thought or heard; and if her mom was brazen enough to just walk right into her bedroom, without even as much as a tender little tap on the doorframe, well then, so be it with whatever she saw, thought or heard.

Monica just smiled. What else could she do? This woman's daughter was snuggled up all over the top of her, lying comfortably in her arms, and using her body to help support herself, as a few more pain-filled tears rolled down her cheeks.

Margaret tentatively smiled, too, slightly embarrassed with this latest situation. But then, what more could she expect after forgetting to knock?

Monica winked at her then barely whispered in the redhead's ear, "Honey, your mom's got your meds for you, okay?" The redhead nodded. Monica then motioned for Margaret to sit down on the edge of the bed next to them. Margaret did, then set the glass of ice-water down on the little table by the bed. Monica then glanced at her watch again. 10:22 PM. …Hum. A little early... Oh well. What was a few minutes, when her baby was in such agony and in need of her pills and cough medicine?

"Honey?" she whispered again then glanced back up at Margaret, slightly ill-at-ease herself with this latest situation. She and Dana had spent the last several months trying to hide their true feelings and immense, deep and unquenchable love for each other from this woman sitting on the edge of the bed. …Oh well. So now you know… she mused. And Dana's mom had not flipped-out, turned their world completely up-side-down, inside-out and every-which-way-but-loose quite yet. "Um, Dana? Think you can rise up for a minute and take your meds?" she coaxed her again. Dana finally nodded through her exhaustion, suppressed coughs and light tears. "Okay. Here we go," Monica said as she began to help the redhead sit up.

Margaret smiled again from all the love, tenderness, and affection she was witnessing just now. Actually, she was beginning to like this newly-recognized little arrangement of her daughter's indeed, the more she listened, watched and observed. She was quite happy indeed to see that someone was so immensely devoted to her daughter. Her daughter deserved it. Her daughter deserved every single ounce of this immense love, tenderness, and devotion she was receiving from this wonderfully sweet young woman. Plus, she had wondered if it would ever happen for her daughter one day—to find someone that would truly love her, adore her, and would want to shower her with all the love, tenderness, and devotion that one could ever muster. …Hum, well, well… She never would have thought that she would have been so open to homosexuality, lesbianism and having a gay daughter, but now. …Hum… Of course Dana's older brother, Bill, would take a little more convincing before he would be so accepting. He had already shown his ass a couple of times around his little sister and her co-worker. But she would just let things unfold as they may and not bring the subject up around him. She would just let it go and see what would happen later on in the very near future—like maybe within a week or two, in and around Independence Day—when all of the Scully family would be gathered together, along with her daughter's new girlfriend.

Dana quickly swallowed all of her antibiotics and cough medicine then collapsed back down into her lover's arms. She just could not help herself. She was so exhausted from all of the coughing. And Monica was her solace when she felt so weak, vulnerable and defenseless. But, fortunately, her tears had begun to slow.

Margaret then reached over and barely caressed her cheek. "Dana, dear, why don’t you try and get some rest now, and let Monica stay with you, okay? I'll take care of William tonight while you two rest." She looked at Monica.

Monica just watched her, blown away by the sudden vibes she was feeling from the older woman.

Dana nodded. "Okay, um, Mom. Sorry you’re… ach, ach… having to… achachach…"

"Shhh, it's all right, dear. That's what I'm here for, to help you, and help you take care of your, um—family," she stuttered on the word somewhat.

...Whoa... Monica cocked an eyebrow. …Oh my God. Your family? Whoa. Oh my God. Wow!... So. Her intution had been right—as always. ...Oh my God!... Her heart could practically jump into a jubilant fit of summersaults over the complete understanding and total acceptance she suddenly felt radiating from the older woman. ...Oh my God... Dana's mother was beginning to completely accept and consider her as a part of the family, her family, Dana's family, the Scully family. ...Oh my God... She almost felt lightheaded from her excitement.

Margaret smiled then reached over and clasped her hand. "Monica, I want you to stay here with Dana, and get some rest, too, okay? You're exhausted, too. And you need your rest. I can take care of William for the rest of the night tonight. Is that all right?"

Monica nodded. Of course it was all right. Margaret certainly did not need to ask her for permission to take care of her own grandson. Besides, that was partly why she had called her and asked her to come over in the first place.

"Okay. Well, I'm going to make myself at home, wash a load of clothes, and then go to sleep in there on the couch, and—"

"Oh no, don’t do that," Monica protested. "Gosh, I—I can sleep on the—"

"No. Your place is in here, next to Dana."

...Whoa... Monica cocked an eyebrow yet again. Yes, it was. Dana was her priority now. Now that Margaret was here to take care of William.

"Mmm, Mom," Dana barely moaned as she suddenly realized just what all was actually transpiring between her mother and her lover. She was still quite sick and somewhat high on her medications but, suddenly, she understood. "Mom? Thank you," she barely whispered. "I love you."

"Oh," Margaret smiled then leaned in to kiss her beautiful, all-grown-up, with-a-baby-all-her-own, baby-daughter on the forehead. "Mmm, I love you too, my sweet."

…My sweet? Oh my God… Monica grinned. So that was where that tender little endearment had come from—Dana's mom. …Hum… She loved it when Dana called her that. And Dana had called her that from the very beginning when they had first fallen in-love.

Margaret then rose up from the bed, smiling and then winking at Monica before leaving them alone for the night to get some rest.

Monica nodded and winked, too, as Dana then rolled over more comfortably into her arms—ready to just bask in her arms for a little while longer before she eventually dropped off to sleep.

"Um, Maggie? Just leave the door open, will you?" Monica whispered as Margaret was about to shut the bedroom door.

"Are you sure?"

"Umhum."

"Okay," Margaret smiled again then left the bedroom leaving the bedroom door slightly ajar.

Monica then eased her sick and ailing little lover over to her side, adjusted the pillows, then wrapped her arms more securely around her, and then just held her, satisfied that the cough medicine had finally begun to kick in and help with the her fretful coughing spells.

Suddenly, little Xena jumped up onto the bed out of the blue.

"Well my goodness. Where've you been, girl?" Monica teased her furry little friend.

"Ee-o," she chirped.

"Well, come on up here and snuggle in then."

Little Xena then gently padded her way up the edge of the bed and carefully eased in beside her two best human companions. She loved Monica. And she adored Dana. And Dana really liked her, too. And she knew that this particular object of her affection was still quite sick. So she knew to be very quiet and unassuming, so as not to disturb this ailing little beauty lying so comfortably in her other human companion's arms.

Monica smiled at the sweet little kitty then reached down to pet her.

Dana barely stirred then whispered, "What's she doin'?… ach, ach…"

"Movin' in for a threesome."

Dana snorted then laughed in spite of how bad she felt. "Mmm… Two raven-haired beauties, huh?... Oh my… ach, ach…"

"Too much for ya?"

"Naah. No way...ach, ach... What a fantasy..."

"Oh shit," Monica giggled. Somehow she knew that that was very true. Dana probably had fantasized about such things. And she could probably handle not only a threesome, but quite possibly a foursome, or maybe even a five-some, or who knows what all else. But they each preferred only one—each other.

"Mmm, love you… ach, ach…" Dana whispered again.

"Shhh, love you, too, baby. Now go to sleep."

"Mmm, okay… ach, ach… Know what?"

"What?"

"Ach, ach… I think… Mom knows."

Monica giggled, "No shit, Sherlock."

Then they both giggled before their mutual exhaustion finally overtook them.

Oh well, it was bound to happen sooner or later—Dana's mother figuring things out. So now, finally, there was no need for either of them to continue to feel the pressure of hiding the truth of their love from her. They had been consistently doing that since the first week they had ever met; and at least she had not walked in on them unexpectedly during the actual act like she had almost done on a few occasions.


12:39 AM:


"Oh! My God!" Monica suddenly gasped then began to giggle even more heartily. She had awakened from the sensations of warm, wet liquid soaking her upper chest and pajama-top.

Dana began to awaken too, from the sensations of a shaking, giggling body lying underneath her. "Wha—? What's wrong? What's so—? Oh my God," she gasped herself as she rose up from her giggling lover—her own ch