LIGHT THAT BRIGHTENS THE DARKEST HOUR

BY

AllyinthekeyofX & Strbck23

PART THREE

Even before I open my eyes I know he has gone and the heavy weight of this knowledge settles deep inside of me, constricting my chest as I suddenly find it hard to breathe because although I keep my eyes closed in a desperate attempt to deny what I know to be true, to tell myself that he has simply moved in to another room so as to not wake me from the exhausted, sated sleep that stole upon me as he wrapped his body around mine, I can feel just by the way the air around me has settled once more, no longer pulsing and expanding around me in a way precipitated just by his mere presence within the confines of these walls, within this bed and within the very fibre of me and which has now shrunk back to what it was before, because he has gone.

And if it weren't for the scent of him that clings to the warm flannel sheets that cocoon me against the chill of this December morning I would question whether he had even been here with me at all, that it had been nothing more than a beautiful dream. But the evidence of our time together assails my senses as I become more aware of the slight tackiness that exists at the juncture of my thighs; the ache deep inside me that speaks of a scant few hours where he came to me in darkness, bringing light and life and renewed hope to me as together we enjoyed a brief reconnection – an affirmation that our time apart had in no way dimmed the fire that has burned between us for so many years.

The initial need – the hunger within us – had lasted only as long as it took for us both to answer to that need. A need to touch, to taste, to give affirmation of everything we mean to each other. To give each other pleasure without boundaries, that any kind of gentle prelude was now what either of us wanted.

But then we had finally come together, two souls reconnecting with an intensity I think surprised us both. An act of love, of joining together that was so intrinsically wonderful that I wanted it to never end.

The way he used his hands and lips, desperately mapping a course on my skin, kissing me with eyes wide open lest he miss a moment of our stolen time together that was as wrenchingly painful as it was exquisite for the both of us I think. This man who has the singular ability to chase away my demons with a single touch of his hand to my face, smoothing away tears that had gathered in my eyes and which tracked down my cheeks, capturing them before they really had a chance to begin as he hovered above me, the candlelight that surrounded us reflecting back at me and turning hazel in to shimmering golden fire, wordlessly seeking permission that I might give myself to him again.

The uncertainty had been all too evident in the way he tempered his movements, stilled his body and furrowed his brow when I had been unable to suppress a slight grimace as the head of his engorged penis pushed against my tender flesh and although I wanted him – needed to feel the weight of him both on me and inside me – my post partum body responded with painful spasms at the unfamiliar intrusion. A response that, as I had learned from my medical training, was wholly physical in nature. But I had watched an expression of guilt darken Mulders beautiful face, guilt that I was hurting because of him; that he was responsible for causing me pain just as he perceives he always has been and so before he could pull away I slid my hands around his back, smoothing away his tension with broad sweeping strokes against the muscled planes beneath my palms, gentling him in a way that in turn gentled me also.

Revelling in the familiar strength of him against me as I tilted my pelvis slightly to meet him, breathing with him as I slowly increased the pressure of my hands as I drew him toward me, pressing in to him, opening myself to him as I kept my eyes locked with his, assuring him without needing to speak that I wanted this; that I wanted him. And suddenly, like a switch had been flicked, the resistance was just gone and he slid in to me, unable to prevent the soft guttural moan that escaped his slightly parted lips as I welcomed him back; wrapping my legs around him, holding him against me and sheathing him completely within me needing to feel every inch of him against me, consuming me, making me whole again.

At that moment, as we just held each other I felt a connection to him that transcended anything I have ever felt before; a love so intense that I wanted the feeling to never end. That I might still the moment in time forever even as I realised that it couldn't be so, and as Mulder brought his lips to rest against my forehead, kissing me so gently, so reverently, I knew that he felt it too.

Our bodies melded together, hearts and minds combined just as they were always destined to be as slowly, gently, languidly we made love as our son enjoyed sweet slumber just a few feet away, the product of another time in another lifetime when for a few brief months I had enjoyed the kind of happiness I hadn't known could exist. This man; my friend, my protector, my imperfect other who somehow had always known how to find me in the darkness and bring me back and who had come to me when I needed him the most so that we might find brief solace to sustain us during the frighteningly uncertain times that surely lie ahead for both of us as we continue on a path trodden for so many years and which sometimes seems to have no end.

Finally, spent and sated I had lain against him, tracing patterns against his skin with my fingertips as he held me in a strong embrace, neither one of us willing to break the connection right then even though we knew time was running short and the realisation had brought forth fresh tears that scalded my face and seared my soul because I didn't want to let him go; didn't know how to let him go. I wanted to beg him to stay, to get down on my knees before him if that's what it took and beg him not to leave. Or to simply pack up and go with him, to take our son and find a way for us all to disappear; to start afresh in another place where the darkness couldn't reach us.

But even as I trembled in his arms I knew that what we both wished for could never be - at least not in the short term. Not now that the stakes had become so much higher and the danger to us all so much more pronounced than it has ever been and that I owe it to our son to give him a life free of fear; that I will sacrifice my own happiness to keep him safe because I am his Mother and to allow him to be in danger is inconceivable to me. And so I had just clung to Mulder and cried in his arms as he kissed me gently and tried to soothe me with his touch; to take away my pain even as I felt a quiet desperation radiating from him that matched my own, imploring me with softly whispered words to sleep.

To just sleep.

And I fought against it for so long, as the candles burned out one by one and we were left with just the muted colour from the spruce tree that somehow found its way through the closed blinds to cast coloured shadows on the ceiling above us because I knew that he would only leave when I was sleeping, that he would not be able to bear to say goodbye to me – to his precious son - for a second time.

And so for Mulder I eventually closed my eyes.

And for Mulder I eventually slept.

Enveloped in his enduring love, my last conscious thought before I fell in to nothingness was the feeling of his body pressed against mine as he curled himself around me and despite everything, it was as wondrous and life affirming a moment as anything I have ever experienced before.

But now he is gone and as much as I want to burrow down in to the sheets, to wrap myself in the comforter that holds on to the scent of us and just close myself off to the reality of it all, I know it's impossible.

Because it's Christmas morning and I am expected at my Moms for family roll call and the opening of gifts that hold no real meaning for me as I go through the motions for the sake of William. For our baby son I will find a way to smile through this day.

Because right now, once again he is all that I have.

And so I force myself to sit up, to push back the covers that just a few hours ago had enveloped us in warmth as we clung together beneath them. My legs, when I swing them over the edge of the bed protest mildly, tired and underused muscles that bear witness to the unexpected workout they were given last night; it's a feeling I welcome because the discomfort is another reminder that he was really here with me; that against all the odds he had found a way for us to be together if only for so brief a time that it barely seems real.

I check on William who is still sleeping contently, his tiny fist curled against his mouth, fingers opening and closing briefly as his dark eyelashes flutter just for a moment before he stills once more and I can't help but smile because when I see him sleeping like this, all I see in him is Mulder – his Fathers features in perfect miniature – and all I can think is how beautiful he is, how perfect; this precious gift bestowed upon us both. A gift from God at a time when I had almost lost the faith that has always sustained me through my most uncertain times and as much as I am grateful for all Mulder and I gave each other this past night, more than anything I am grateful that even for just a few short hours, he was able to share in the sights and sounds of his baby son as he lay sleeping just a few feet from where we lay.

Our tiny sweet boy who had known his Father for such a short time so far in his young life and who now must surely feel the weight of Mulders love for him; a love that was born from his ultimate sacrifice to help keep us both safe and which I now know will endure even the longest separation.

Reluctantly I turn away from William, unwilling to awaken him before he is ready because I am aware that this will be a long and confusing day for him, wanting him to sleep for as long as he can before I have to start preparing him for his first Christmas with his extended family; glancing just once more at the rumpled sheets that are haphazardly strewn across my bed and it surprises me in a way that I am able to smile against the tide of emotion that threatens to overwhelm me. Because this was a gift; a precious and unexpected gift from Mulder that has brought with it a renewed hope for the future that I truly thought I had lost.

When I enter the living room, to my surprise I find he has left me another gift. A small, beautifully wrapped square box that sits at the centre of my kitchen table.

A wrapped box that, on opening it carefully, I discover a watch.

An exact replica of the watch I have worn for so many years and which has adorned my wrist through laughter and heartbreak; through injury and through health. A watch that I stopped wearing several months ago after I accepted that it had been damaged irreparably during one of our final cases together; that somehow the acid that had burned our skin and blurred our realities must have found its way in to the casing and slowly corroded the workings within. I hadn't really thought Mulder had taken much notice – because after all, it was at a time when there were so many more pressing concerns to be addressed than that of a broken watch.

And I feel the tears begin to burn my eyes, blurring the words which he has written on a small piece of paper that he has precisely folded and placed inside the box.

'Love is begun by the passage of time. Minute by minute, hour by hour love will endure. Because love is, was and always will be eternal. You are my eternal.'

Beautiful words meant just for me, written by a man who somehow, against all the odds has also endured. A man who will one day return to take his place by my side once more just as it has always been meant to be.

And tonight, when this day is almost at an end and William is warm and sleepy in my arms, I will stand at the window and show him the coloured lights on the ceder tree that chase away the shadows and fill the darkness with colour, I will watch his eyes grow wide as he reaches chubby fingers out to try to hold them in his hands. And I will feel his downy soft skin against my lips as I whisper in his ear that sometimes, just sometimes, magic is real.

End