Disclaimer: The characters of Dana Scully and Fox Mulder & The X-Files universe belong to Chris Carter and Ten Thirteen Productions. For me, they also belong to the gifted minds of GA and DD without whom those characters might not have been so intense. I don't intend to steal anything or to make any money with this. This is purely a creative game, a way to train my brain cells, so to speak. Timeline: Again, after "The Truth".
Thoughts
I am so tired. I can hardly concentrate on the road that lies ahead. All I long for right now is a hot bath, a glass of fantastic red wine and some Tchaikovsky. No, that's not true. To be absolutely honest, I long for him. I long to be held by him, to be tugged to his chest, to be loved. I want to share the couch with him and a crappy movie. I want to feel his fingers running through my hair, messing it up and sending pleasurable shivers down my spine when he moves the back of his fingers down my neck. I want to share that comfortable kind of silence we use to enjoy sometimes. I want to have the option to spend the night with him on that couch, to feel safe for a couple of hours, to hide away from the world for some time. I want to wake up in his arms in the morning that always comes too soon. I want to feel the trace of his beautiful smile on my neck when I wake him with my caress. I want all of this, right now. But all I should do now is to concentrate on the traffic, to pray that this goddamn rush-hour will be over soon. That the next exit is mine, that I will be home in the blink of a second.
I hate moments like these. I hate when I miss him so badly. I hate what he can do to me. And yet, I wouldn't want to miss it anymore. Not for anything in the world.
I love him, more than I could ever explain. I have loved him so long and for too many years I wasn't even aware of that. Although I guess I was aware of it deep inside, but I was too afraid to accept the power of my feelings. I have always been afraid of the intensity of my feelings. It was always safer to bury them, to control them, to suppress them. I used to have this secret hiding place for my most intense feelings. I had safe-locked that place for a while until he had found the key. And he was so careful with it. So patient, so tender. He gave me the feeling of having discovered the most precious treasure on earth when he started to unlock the door to my emotions. It was as if he was afraid to hurt me if he acted too rashly. He knew exactly what kinds of words to choose, what kinds of signs to send and what kinds of signals to give. And he understood mine. It was as if he knew about my insecurity, about my hesitance, about my fear. I had always been afraid to loose myself in someone, to forget about myself, to become someone else. I had seen that happen far too often around me. I never wanted to be like those people. I never wanted to give myself up, to alter my personality, to hold back, to pretend, to lie to someone I loved. I wanted to be able to be me. I prayed to be accepted and understood and respected. I expected nothing less than I was prepared to give. And he was the only one to realize that. The only one to return the gift I was offering him. The only one to ask for my permission to steal my heart. And I granted him full access to my heart, to my soul, to my being. I readily gave him all of myself when he found the right words, when he found the right gestures. And I never regretted it since.
I am home now. I unlock the door to our apartment. It is our apartment after all. It used to be mine. It used to be my hiding place, my sanctuary. It is now ours. His, our son's, mine. And it is a feeling I draw so much strength from.
I close the door behind me and find him on the couch. He must have dosed off while watching the weather channel. How typical of him. How adorable.
I get rid of my shoes, set down my bag and throw my jacket on a chair. I can't wait to search the comfort of his embrace. And I indulge in the feeling of nuzzling against him, placing soft welcoming kisses on his chest.
There it is, his smile. His tender kiss on my forehead as he mouthes a sleepy "Hi there" towards me. His eyes are still shut and I close mine as well when he hugs me closer to him, protectively. I could stay like this forever and I drift into a tender sleep at the thought of this.
When I awake, I smell Chinese dishes and my favorite red wine. I smirk before I even open my eyes. He knows me so well. Too well sometimes.
I open my eyes and sit up, carefully, letting out a sleepy sigh. I turn my head to look for him, only to find him coming towards me from our bedroom. He gives me one of his warmest smiles. The one he also transmits with his hazel eyes. I can never help but to smile back at this. And he knows.
"I poured you a hot bath, my love." Like I said, he knows me well.
"And I figure Tchaikovsky might find your liking tonight." Too well.
He further approaches me from behind and we meet for an intimate kiss on my way up from the couch. I mouth a deeply felt "Thank you" into him and place another tender kiss on his neck before I drag myself to the bathroom. The Nutcracker welcomes me to a foggy room illuminated by vanilla candles. My favorites, of course. The trace of a smile never leaves my lips until I get rid of my clothes and taste the perfectly heated water with my toe. I let myself slide into the comfortably warm water and my smile grows more content. Even more so when I close my eyes and feel his hands on my back to massage me gently. "Care for some company?" The sound of my satisfied moan is enough for him to be reassured that I would gladly welcome his company. He anticipated my reaction, of course, for he doesn't even have to remove any of his clothes anymore and joins me in an instant.
I open my eyes again to the touch of his knowing hands on my feet. He knows how much I enjoy feet massages. And he performs them so well. I had to teach him a little bit in the first place, but he turned out to be a willing student. In return, he as shown me so much else to learn. And until now, we have not grown out of ideas to explore and learn something new.
How I enjoy that. His openness, his willingness to improve, his hunger for more, his commitment, his dedication. And most of all, his humor. He has shown me so many places, has given me so many things to laugh about and he never asked for anything in return. Although I know that he considers William to be the greatest gift of all. And I know that he cherishes every moment he is allowed to spend with him and me.
It is a reassuring sensation to be aware of his feelings, to actually know how much I am loved. It took me a long time to figure it out and an even longer time to accept it, to embrace and welcome it. But the events of the past have helped me to trust him, to lean on him, to know him. He has helped me through so much. He has loved me despite of everything. He has never let me down. He fought for me, with me. He gave me time, he gave me space, he gave me patience. He suffered with me, for me and because of me. He never meant a single bad word he used against me. Not in his heart. He was always with me. And he gave me William.
The loss of our son could have divided us. I was so afraid of it. But it made us grow even closer. We shared our pain, cried endless nights over his fate and my decision. He never held it against me. He understood. He supported my choice. He soothed me for our dilemma.
I always wondered how I could ever pay him back. How I could ever make this up to him. To repay his strength, his love, his determination.
He reassured me that I did. And it was one of the few times I didn't believe him. But I do believe him now. He promised to spoil me and he does. He keeps the promises he makes, and I try to keep mine.
Being pregnant again, with our child, used to scare the shit out of me. It does not anymore. I know he is here. He supports me, he helps me, he loves me.
The way he is looking at me right now, from the other end of the tub, is indescribable. He indicates for me to turn around to rest in his arms. I adore the feeling of having him fully wrapped around me. To feel his eyes studying my body, to feel his hands carefully caressing my growing belly, to feel the soft kisses on my back, to feel his arousal.
Sometimes I think that this is too good to be true. I am afraid to wake up in some hospital bed, lonely and sick. A test object, a lab rat, a dead woman. Sometimes I am afraid that he never returned to me. That he was killed, that William was, that we all were. I used to have nightmares about any possible scenario of our separation, destruction or desperation. Sometimes, those dreams still return. Mostly, when he's not near. When I fear for him to be abducted again, when I long for his closeness, for his breath. I know, he's had nightmares as well. He told me about them, about his pain, about the memories. He didn't have one of those dreams since he learned about my pregnancy. He didn't wake up screaming since. His eyes have never been darkened by gray since that day in the hospital. Hope is what we have relied on since he was returned to me. Hope has given us strength since William's return and it brought back our courage since we learned about my condition. Hope is the essence of our current existence. Hope will be our daughter's name.