TITLE: Adoration Defined (1/1)
AUTHOR: Squeak
RATING: PG 13 (graphic imagery)
SPOILERS: None
SUMMARY: What constitutes love?
CATEGORY: S
KEYWORDS: Mulder/Scully friendship
ARCHIVE: Xemplary, Gossamer, EMXC, anywhere else, pls drop
me a note so I can
visit
DISTRIBUTION: Please forward to list
DISCLAIMER: Mulder and Scully are 1013's, CC's and FOX's
discipline problem.
Since they're only visiting me, they can stay up as late as
they want.
FEEDBACK: squeak@quackquack.com
Read this and other works at
http://www.angelfire.com/bc/squeakaxfileshipper/index.html
For Amirah, who reminded me what the important things are.
--------------------------
Her skin is so soft.
Flushed pink, smooth and yielding, it feels like fine silk
beneath my
fingertips. Momentary shame floods me as I place roughened
hands on her small
body. Will the invisible stain on my soul seep into her
innocence? Have I
unconsciously tainted her with the audacity of my touch?
She responds to my
ministrations, unaware of the danger, craving the warmth of
my hands. I
inhale the natural perfume of her pores, nearly sobbing at
her absolute
perfection.
Her eyes are so blue.
The trust shines from them. Her heart is pure; she is not
capable of cruel
thoughts. The concept of evil is still foreign to her, a
mystery hopefully
left unsolved. The clear ocean depths remind me of
summertime childhood romps
through fields, of a piece of stained glass window at eye
level in my
grandmother's front door, of the sparkling marble I won the
fifth grade
championship game with. Her eyes reflect my unworthy
image, but she looks
beyond the surface, seeking qualities I had believed long
lost. She sees me
as no one else can.
Her hands are so small.
They are swallowed up by my clasp. Dry, warm fingers wrap
around my larger
digits, swift caresses on my body soothing the storm
inside. The flat of her
palm pressed against my heaving chest brushes away my
nervousness with an
impatient flick, leaving only adoration. Her touch ignites
my imagination,
bringing hope and, shockingly, love. Absolute love. I am
whole for this
instant. I understand what it means to be alive. The
endless quest we are on
for the meaning of life is answered; she makes me realize
what is important.
I never want to let go.
She is sleeping.
Cradled in my arms, this miracle, the fairytale princess
breathes in quiet,
even puffs of warm air. The feather touch tickles my cheek,
making me smile.
Relaxed, secure, worshipped, she nestles into my chest and
sighs. Downy hair
frames her oval face, the delicate features committed to
memory. This moment
is burned into my mental photo album, framed in gold. I
pull her closer and
hum a faintly remembered lullaby, praying for continued
contentment with my
presence. We breathe in unison, one breath, two chests
rising and falling. We
are one.
She is so beautiful.
I want to keep her here forever. Locked in the circle of my
embrace, she will
be protected from the demons that threaten to harm. One
beseeching look from
those sparkling eyes would bring me to my knees, granting
any desire. One
wave of the small hand would have me flying to her side,
ready for battle.
One smile from that heart shaped mouth would make me wonder
if Heaven could
compare to the moment. Lord, I implore, keep her ignorant
of the darkness men
have lurking deep inside. Don't let them take her innocence
away. She moves
in her slumber, cooing slightly. I gently kiss her
forehead, then close my
eyes.
Her love is unconditional.
The steady pressure on my shoulder slowly brings me out of
my thoughts. I
sigh deeply, thankfully not disturbing the bundle in my
arms. A world that
had shrunken until it consisted of only our singular breath
expands,
introducing unwelcome chaos to Paradise. Reluctantly, I
open my eyes.
Her eyes are so blue.
Our gazes lock momentarily, hers blue and empty, mine hazel
and bleak.
"Mulder."
I nod. "Shh."
Understanding, Scully looks down at the infant in my arms,
her face softening
into an expression I can't read. Hesitantly, she reaches
down to touch the
baby's cheek, then jerks away.
I took her innocence. We are both marked with the shadow of
truth.
Looking away, she speaks in a trembling voice, barely above
a whisper.
"Social Services is here for the baby. The local PD has the
crime scene under
control now." I nod again. A firm hand on my arm, a glance
brimming with
sudden tenderness and longing, then Scully is gone.
I stand, mocking myself for such foolish musings. Striding
downstairs, I find
the Social Services workers in the entryway of the house. A
competent woman
takes the baby from me, shaking her head. "Looks like
another crack baby.
Sorry we couldn't get here sooner, Agent Mulder." I mumble
something about it
being all right, traffic is a bitch this time of day, baby
slept through most
of it anyway.
The women leave, securing the infant in the back seat of
their nondescript
sedan with practiced movements. I hardly notice them drive
away, my mind
focusing on the pattern the victim's splattered blood
painted on the wall.
The gray car is waiting at the curb, reminding me that we
are due back at the
office. Scully gets into the passenger seat, I slide into
my customary
position behind the wheel. The keys are dangling in my
hand, but for some
reason, I am unsure what to do with them.
It scares me that I know what it feels like to want to
commit murder. The
rage, squelched down by common sense, surges up at
unexpected times,
uncontrollable, deadly. I think about the blood on the wall.
"Mulder."
I turn.
Her eyes are so blue.
Hand trembling, I reach out and stroke a poisonous finger
along her cheek.
Her skin is so soft.
I put the keys in the ignition and pull away from the curb.
______________
The End
Authors notes: I got to hold my best friend's newborn baby
tonight, and even
though I can't stand kids, they had to pry the baby away
from me after half
an hour. It was an absolutely amazing experience.
Everything else ceased to
matter except the tiny nine-pound creature snuggled into my
neck. I tried to
capture some of that feeling here. Let me know if I
succeeded. Feedback
cherished and responded to with hugs and sunflower seeds.
squeak@quackquack.com
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Squeak!
e-mail: squeak@quackquack.com
ICQ-36932599 AOL IM- SqueakX
http://www.angelfire.com/bc/squeakaxfileshipper
Damn Bee!
"He's dead, Jim." "You grab his tricorder, I'll get his wallet."
Holder of the Pink Plastic Flamingo moment (Bring it on!)
Official Bee Swatter of the Church of X
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