From: ephemeral@ephemeralfic.org Date: 8 Apr 2001 23:50:06 -0000 Subject: The Element of Life by Ana Hawkman Source: direct Reply To: anahawkman@hotmail.com Author: Ana Hawkman Title: The Element of Life Rating: PG Category: MSR, post-ep (DeadAlive) Feedback: I live for it. Pretty please:) anahawkman@hotmail.com Archiving: Anywhere. Just drop me a line so I can visit. Disclaimer: The characters of Fox Mulder and Dana Scully belong to Chris Carter, 1013 and Fox Productions, and the actors who portray each. Author's Notes: Rina and Meg... I owe you!! You guys are the best:) As for the other folks I asked to beta, I'm just a procrastinating, impatient bitch. Promise I'll give you a go on the next one. I love you all! "Home." Mulder murmurs the word, smiling at me weakly from where he is tucked safely in my bed. God, it's so good. So good. To hear his voice. To touch his face. To look into his eyes. Everything about him touches me... reserrects a different memory, triggors a different emotion. He knows how to touch the deepest points within me, gently caressing my soul, eliciting the rawest, most real feelings I've ever allowed myself to express. So often I had forgotten that he was a pshychologist. He knew from the start that I'd been hurt. That I was deathly afraid of losing myself in a relationship. I found my own independence comforting-- I thrived on it. The idea of someone knowing me... truly *knowing* me... scared me more than anything else. And somehow, gradually, without my noticing it, he began to chip away at the walls I had built around myself. Every man I'd ever met had crashed through those walls on a high of hormones and false charm; bursting through them, into me, and demolishing whatever vulnerable soul was there. Mulder, however, slowly picked away at them. After eight years, they were gone; he stepped carefully into my safe, distanced heart and held me. So, in lieu of the "seek and destroy" tactic, he had been slow and infinately gentle with his journey. He won my friendship, my trust, and eventually my love. "Scully?" I snap from my reverie, looking into his eyes. The blatant concern on his face tells me that I'm crying again. I don't even notice it anymore; after spending nearly a year crying at random points in the day, it's been a constant, throbbing ache. I meet his eyes again. "I'm sorry, Mulder..." I trail off, and he silently urges me to continue. "I just... I... never thought I'd look into your eyes again..." I look at the comforter, allowing tears to fall from my face. Even though his arms are deathly weak, he somehow finds the strength to lift his hand, brushing my cheek with gentle fingers. I close my eyes at the contact. It's heavenly. I put my hand over his, holding it to my face, reveling in his touch. As I do this, I think of all the times I was scared or self-concious to cry in front of him. I should have known. "Lay with me." His request is simple, soft, and I want more than anything to give in. I open my eyes. "Mulder, I can't. Not yet... your body isn't ready for it." He looks at me sadly, his gravelly voice filled with poignant fear. Beat. "Do you even want to, Scully?" His question is horribly honest, and I love him for voicing his fears so openly. His voice, a trembling whisper, sounds hopeless. I'm speechless for a moment. How could he ever doubt my need to touch him? How could he... "I know..." he starts quietly, "that I'm not exactly the guy I was..." I begin to shake my head vigerously, but he continues. "And I know that my body isn't-" I cut him off firmly. "No, Mulder... you couldn't be more wrong. You're beautiful." I smile faintly through my tears. "I would give my right arm to hold you right now. I hope you know that." He doesn't say anything; his heavily lidded eyes surveying my face. "But your body can't handle that. Not yet." He closes his eyes briefly, then opens them. "Please?" His plea is now reduced to a whimper, and his eyes fill with tears. "I need to *feel you.* Please..." It scares me to see him so helpless. However, I cannot deny him. I fold back the thick down comforter, and crawl under it, next to him. I don't care where he's been, or how dry his skin is, or how bad he smells; he is my soulmate. My partner. I curl against him. I know that if he had the strength, he would put his arms around me, hold me tightly. But for now, this is enough-- his breath in my hair, his hand on my swollen stomach. I feel complete. His fingertips brush my tummy. "I wasn't here," he whispers brokenly, and I reach f or his other hand, holding it tightly. "I want to know everything," he murmurs, his lips against my ear. "I want to know every detail of what I missed and I want to make it up to both of you. I'm *so* sorry I wasn't with you..." I rest with my ear against his heart, listening to its comforting beating. "Shhhh.... it doesn't matter, Mulder. I just feel... blessed... that you're all right." I bury my nose against his chest for a moment before sitting up, opening the droor of my nightstand. I pull out a top- bound notebook, the journal I've been keeping since he was taken. All of the entries open with "My Mulder..." I help him up to sit against a pile of pillows, and hand him the book. "This is... it," I say quietly. "Some of it might be hard to read... God, I know it was hard to write. But if you want to know..." "I do, Scully..." he takes the book and carefully opens it. "I need to." I rest my head on his shoulder, cudding against him, letting exhaustion win me over. I wake up some time later, and the warm light that had been warming the room has given way to a soft darkness. Unlike the times I'd woken up like this before, my bed is warm, the cotton sheets acting as a cocoon. Mulder is under the covers, his head level with my stomach, and I keep my eyes closed, savoring the moment. He's murmuring something, but I can't quite make it out... did he fall asleep down there? Is he dreaming? "You don't know me yet, but I'm your daddy. ...Yeah..." His hand traces gently over the rise of my tummy. "And you should know that daddy loves you very, very much." Tears come to my eyes and then fall as I hear Mulder talking to our baby. It's a breathtakingly beautiful thing, completely endearing in the way he speaks in the third person. As my breathing becomes irregular and hitched from the tears, I reach down into the warmth of our bed, under the thick down comforter, and brush my fingers through my partner's thick, silky hair. "Scully?" his voice is muffled by layers of bedding. He kisses my stomach slowly, reverantly, then slowly moves to meet my face, caressing my lips in the same fashion. "I'm sorry... I didn't mean to wake you up..." he brings a cheek to my face, drying the tears as they stream down my face. I shake my head, smiling a bit. "You didn't." I hold my hand up, and he mirrors my actions; we touch palm to palm. He closes warm, familiar fingers around mine, and I smile, folding my own in response. I think about how others must view us. In the few months towards his abduction, I know people were rumoring of us sleeping together. I could see where they would get the idea-- we spent every waking moment together-- but the thought was untrue. We were, at the time, either not ready for sex yet or far beyond it. We had never moved in together. We had never made love. We'd only rarely kissed. And yet there was something about our relationship... so strong that it made the possibility of a physical aspect seem rediculous. We would hold each other, cuddle... frequently, in fact. But more than anything else, we were friends. Best friends. "I read it all, Scully," he murmurs against my neck. "If knew... I never would have gone. You know, right? I wouldn't leave you like that..." I pull away gently, looking into his eyes. I put my hand to his cheek, warming it, looking at him with deep sincerity. "I know, Mulder." I kiss him gently, reassuringly. Our lips meet and caress, the action safe and familiar. We know each other so well. "I know you'd never leave us," I whisper, guiding, his hand to my swollen stomach. He smiles faintly, splaying his fingers so that they cover the new terretory of my middle. I cuddle as closely as I can against him, and I'm thankful for his presence. His warmth. His life. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ finis anahawkman@hotmail.com