Light Don't Sleep By Lydia Bower DISTRIBUTION: *DO NOT ARCHIVE.* This fic will be housed exclusively at http://members.aol.com/MSRWriter/Lydia.html Archivists are welcome to link directly to this site. CLASSIFICATION: V, MSR, ER RATING: NC-17 for mild sexual content. SPOILERS: S8, including episodes not yet aired. If you're unspoiled for what takes place after the events of TINH, you won't be after reading this fic. *This is your only warning.* TIMELINE: Set during Three Words and inspired by early spoilers. SUMMARY: " ... I don't want this to end. I want to stay like this forever. Just the three of us, right here in this bed. Not a care in the world." AUTHOR'S NOTES: The Short Version: It's come to my attention that this little fic o' mine presents a scenario very similar to one or two (and perhaps more) fics already in circulation. I suppose that's to be expected, as the spoilers for Three Words were bound to inspire many a muse. And so I was beaten to the punch. Isn't the first time, won't be the last. Blame the lateness of this posting on The World's Most Reluctant Muse (TM), and any similarity to other fics on pure chance and the age-old adage that great minds think alike. The Long Version: Can be found at the end. I'll see you there. DISCLAIMER: You've got to be kidding. Chris and the suits can bite me. Go on, sue me. I double-dog dare ya. For Leyla, who is spreading her wings while we remain earthbound, watching and wondering. God speed, my friend. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ The night Scully brought Mulder home from the hospital, after he'd eaten and headed for the shower, she timed him. Half an hour passed before she went to check on him, finding him still in the bathroom, studying his reflection in the medicine cabinet mirror. Wearing faded Levis that barely clung to his narrow hips, he was busy fingering a nasty scar bisecting his sternum. It took him a few seconds to notice her; long enough for Scully to see his uncertainty. "Oh ... hey," he said, addressing her reflection. "I was just thinking that battle scars lose some of their macho appeal when you can't remember how you got 'em." She considered the description of his wounds more than accurate. He was certainly a warrior, though better fitted to be an FBI agent than a knight of old. Armani had replaced armor, and the truth now served as surrogate for the holy grail. Or were they one and the same? These were foolish, fleeting thoughts. Just more of the many she'd had since he'd been returned to her. "Maybe it's better not to remember," she told him, thinking of the scars she still bore. Faded on flesh, but not on her soul. "No ... No, Scully, I want to remember. I need to." He turned to face her, leaning against the sink. "I need to find a way to make all this seem real again. " "It's not unusual that you're experiencing memory loss, Mulder. A certain level of amnesia is common in cases such as yours, where there's evidence of acute physical and psychological trauma. The mind blocks out what's too painful or frightening to recall." Mulder's hands gripped the edge of the sink. "That doesn't explain why I had to be told your middle name. Or why I can't remember where I keep my can opener." "Mulder." She started toward him, stopping as he shook his head in warning. "No, don't coddle me, Scully. I know what you're going to say and it won't make it any better. It's driving me crazy, this jigsaw puzzle where my memories used to be. There's no rhyme or reason to it. I can't remember what I had for breakfast yesterday, but the taste of dirt in my mouth is so goddamn fresh I can feel the grit on my tongue." Eyes sliding shut, she surrendered to the wave of remorse his words invoked. Saddened beyond thought, she wanted to weep for him. For the months he'd spent buried in the cold, dark ground, neither fully alive nor irrevocably dead, caught in a nightmarish world in between. He was right: there was nothing she could say. She couldn't make it better with any words. She opened her eyes and was confronted by the pain etched on his face. He was still a good ten pounds below slim, and the sharp cut of his cheekbones threw shadows onto his deep-set eyes and hollow, scarred cheeks. He'd suffered unimaginable things and had still managed to wind up on his feet. Mulder was the strongest, most courageous person she'd ever known, and she loved him with all her heart. The need to touch him became overwhelming and Scully was moving before she knew it. Ignoring his rigid posture, she stepped to him and slid her arms around his waist, leaning her cheek against the damp skin of his chest. Mulder's arms slowly lifted to encircle her. They stood that way for a few moments, the embrace made awkward by her swollen belly. Mulder released her sooner than she wanted. His hands slid down her arms and he briefly grasped her fingers before letting go. "I'm sorry, Scully, " he sighed. "I'll try not to be so self-absorbed from now on. This has been just as hard on you, I know. Maybe even harder." The downward flick of his eyes acknowledged what had just separated them, what he wouldn't discuss and what she was so hesitant to bring up. Aside from a vague, brief acknowledgment or two, Mulder had said nothing about her pregnancy. She'd tried once in the hospital to explain to him, but had been cut short. Now she wondered if his memory loss might be the cause of his reticence. Was it possible he really didn't know the truth and was afraid of finding out? She thought about her own reluctance to address the issue and was dismayed by her cowardice. She was planning to share a bed with him tonight and yet couldn't come up with a way to initiate a discussion about their child. She wondered again what possible business they had being together. But maybe that's why it worked, because it was so improbable. Because *they* were. "How about that game of Scrabble you promised me?" she asked, side-stepping the issue again, and with practiced ease. "You still up for it, or would you like to get some sleep?" He studied her for a moment, his eyes a stormy gray, and then showed her a sad, resigned face. "I suppose a big bowl of buttered popcorn is out of the question?" "It's your colon that'll be screaming, not mine." "Never mind, then. I've been tortured enough lately, don't you think?" Her gaze shot up and caught the smirk lifting the corners of his mouth. Her heart twisted at the sudden flash of the Mulder she thought she'd lost. She'd come to treasure these moments since his return, precious and hard-won as they were. He didn't seem to smile as often as he used to. "Then why on earth are you even playing the game with me, Mulder? You know I'll kick your ass." He grabbed his t-shirt from the back of the toilet and slipped it on, brushing against her as he headed out of the bathroom. "You know what I like," he murmured, reaching for her hand and pulling her along with him. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Scully was barely ahead in the first game when Mulder became distracted and left the living room. She allowed him to wander away unquestioned, surprised he'd lasted as long as he had. His attention span, never very lengthy to begin with, had steadily decreased as the hour grew late. Mulder didn't like the nighttime anymore. Darkness no longer held its life-long appeal. He was plagued by nightmares, far more vivid and disturbing than any before his abduction. Evening sedations had been the norm in the hospital, though Scully knew he'd been weaning himself from the sleeping pills his last few nights there. He'd placed several of the small blue capsules in her hand as he was packing earlier today, his expression telegraphing his intent to face the situation head- on and without benefit of false security. Scully knew some part of him required a certain level of emotional torment in order to survive. He thrived on it, drawing strength from his ability to beat the odds, to declare victory even if he emerged bloody and broken. A way of atonement, she often thought, a penance he demanded of himself. That much, at least, had not changed. But now he seemed lost in a way she'd never seen before. Mulder had been set adrift by what had happened. He wasn't sure where he belonged, and couldn't even count on his memories to set him back on the right path. Scully glanced up and saw him standing in the doorway, a mug in each hand. "I warmed up some milk. I figured we both could use it," he said. "Does it help you sleep?" She reached up and took one of the cups as he rounded the coffee table and sat down next to her. "Can't hurt," he replied. He took a careful sip and grimaced. "God, that's awful. Why is it that something so good with chocolate can be so lousy without it?" "That can be said of so many things, Mulder." She expected to get a grin in response but he didn't even acknowledge her. "How is it that a single event can change everything?" he asked. She wasn't entirely sure he was even addressing her until he threw her a sidelong glance. "I mean, think about it, Scully. If either of us hadn't made the choices we've made, done the things we did, we might not be sitting here right now. Our lives could have gone in completely different directions." She didn't respond immediately. Couldn't, really. She needed a minute to absorb his words and the way they echoed her own, so many months ago. "So do you think we're where we're supposed to be?" she eventually asked. "Did we make the right choices along the way?" Mulder took another sip of milk and sat up, placing the mug on the table. "Fate or free will. Is that what you're asking me?" "I don't know, I guess." Scully joined him on the edge of the couch, setting her mug next to his. She absentmindedly rubbed her belly as the baby shifted within her. "We talked about this at length, Mulder, a few months before you ... you were taken." He turned a little to look at her. His mouth pulled tight for a second before he murmured, "We did? I don't remember." He was quiet for a minute. "So what did we decide?" She smiled even as she blinked back sudden tears. Her reaction wasn't solely hormonal. Scully's recollection of that evening's events was perfect and wonderful. Such sweet, sweet love they'd made that night. Their first time together. And now it seemed likely Mulder didn't remember. Her tears were the result of that. And of the very real possibility she might have to remind him not only of that night, but of the nights that followed, and of the life they'd created. What would the knowledge do to him? Could he place it into the jagged frame of his memories and make it fit in an acceptable way? Would he recognize it for the miracle it was? There was no way of knowing. Not without asking. "Mulder --" "That's what makes this so hard, Scully," he blurted, not waiting for an answer. "Because of what happened to me. I can remember drawing on my memories of you when I was in that place, using them as a something to hold on to until I could get back to you." She instinctively leaned toward him, her hand coming down on his thigh. The life in him warmed her palm and made her fingertips tingle. "It was okay for awhile, it worked. But then things got really bad and all mixed up in my head and I didn't know if I was remembering things or imagining them. And I still don't." "Like what, Mulder? Tell me." He gave her an appraising look and then launched himself off the couch, circling the table, putting it between them. He paced for a while before turning to her and shoving his hands in his pockets. He stole a quick glance at her before looking away. "Scully, there's something I need to know." She felt her body softening in opposition to his, relaxing against the couch as she watched him wind up tight as a spring. Somehow she knew what was coming, and she welcomed the peace it offered. "What is it?" He wet his lips and asked, "Before I was taken, were we ... " She waited as he took a deliberate breath; pulled in her own and held it. "Scully, are we lovers?" His eyes locked onto hers and she smiled tenderly. "It wasn't your imagination, Mulder." He pulled a hand through his hair and let out a relieved sigh. "I thought so, " he told her. "I remembered." And then he broke out in a wide smile, scrubbing his chin. "That's good, Scully, that's ... really, really good." His glee was contagious and she smiled back up at him, feeling a little giddy. "I was afraid I was gonna get stuck sleeping on the couch." For a formerly dead man, he was pretty quick on his feet. But not fast enough to avoid the throw pillow she tossed at him. He took the hit and sprinted into the bedroom, escaping a possible second barrage. Scully eyed the doorway and smiled when he finally peeked around it, asking, "Is it safe?" "That depends." "Well, then maybe I should do the smart thing and try to get some sleep while I'm in here." "Maybe you should." Despite his good spirits, Scully could see he was worn out. Her energy level was nothing to brag about, either. And the thought of sharing a bed with him again was too strong a temptation to resist. Mulder was apparently on the same wavelength. "Join me?" he asked. "Y'know, just to get some sleep?" She found the elaboration amusing. Not to mention utterly charming. She took a second just to look at him, soak in the familiar air about him, the essence that made him Mulder. He fidgeted a little and then shrugged an apology, misinterpreting her silence. "I can't promise anything more right now, Scully, but it's a good place to start." "Yes it is, Mulder, and I'm right behind you." He nodded and disappeared from sight, issuing a challenge as he went: "Last one in is a rotten egg." She chuckled and slowly pushed off the couch. She might not be a quick as she used to be, but she always caught up with him in the end. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Mulder was already down to boxers, in bed, and grabbing the TV remote when she joined him. The television came on, the sound went down, and the surfing began. He squirmed around a bit as she collected her bag and pulled out toiletries and the oversized men's pajamas she'd been wearing lately. "Is this okay?" he asked, finally settling on his back with an arm folded behind his head. "This is my side, right?" Digging for her hair brush, she rejoined, "Only when I don't get there first." "Oh, here, I'll move." The squirming resumed and she stopped him with a wave of her hand. "Don't worry about it, Mulder, I'm kidding. Anyway, the right side is closer to the bathroom, which is a plus these days." She slipped off her jacket and tossed it over the back of a chair. "Speaking of which ... " She glanced over at him and was stopped cold by the long, head-to-toe appraisal he was giving her. His eyes narrowed in the muted light of the room and then briefly flashed with something she couldn't name. But Scully had the distinct impression that Mulder was truly seeing her for the first time. As though the changes in her body had occurred in seconds instead of months, startling him into awareness. But of course, for him, that's exactly what had happened. She'd been barely four weeks pregnant when he'd disappeared; belly still flat, waist defined, breasts small and high. She wondered for a second what he thought of her newly lush body, if he still found her attractive. Her doubts were erased as he licked his lips the way he'd always done after tasting her. There was no deliberation in his gesture. Scully would almost bet he wasn't even aware of doing it. Didn't matter, it still managed to send a flood of heat through her. She felt herself blushing and dropped her eyes. Her voice was a husky murmur as she told him," I'm gonna, um, take a quick shower." "You do that." The low, rough pitch of his voice mimicked hers. "Hoo boy," she mouthed behind the curtain of her hair. She straightened up and put on a neutral face before turning to him. "Okay, well, then I'll be back in a few minutes." Her voice was pitched just an octave too high and they both heard it. Mulder's eyes softened as he tried to hide a smile. "Take your time, Scully. I'm not going anywhere." He held up three fingers. "Scout's honor." ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Of course he was gone when she came out of the steamy bathroom. The covers were thrown back on his side of the bed, making its uninhabited state look more vast than it actually was. Like an empty box of chocolates, she thought, or a gift box without the gift. She could hear him rustling around in the living room. "Mulder?" "Yeah," he called back and poked his head into the room. "I'll be right there. I just want to take a look at something real quick." He disappeared, only to pop back in a second later. "Oh, and in case I didn't tell you before, you're one seriously hot babe." She stared at the space he'd just occupied, her mouth agape. Then, smiling in turn, she whispered, "Thank you," and crawled into bed. Settling on her side with a pillow tucked between her legs, she lay staring at the empty spot beside her, remembering all the nights she'd fallen asleep this way. Only tonight was different. Tonight Mulder was here with her. The stereo came on in the living room, barely audible, and she recognized the noise of CD cases being knocked around. The sounds were a signal that Mulder's definition of "be right there" would be wholly subjective tonight. Music had often meant extreme focus for him, and sometimes hours would pass before he'd lift his eyes to the world around him. While she wanted him in bed with her, the easy re- establishment of this ritual of his was comforting. Another small step in his journey back. She cradled her rounded belly, softly stroking the taut skin. "It'll be better now, Baby," she whispered. "He's come home." She sighed and closed her eyes, her gentle caresses slowing, slowing, slowing, as Van Morrison sung her to sleep. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Scully stirred when the bed moved beneath her. Her eyes opened slowly and she stretched a little as Mulder climbed in. She'd turned onto her right side after falling asleep and had her back to him. She thought about turning over, but was just too comfortable to do it. Especially after Mulder shifted and moved a bit closer. She could feel his warmth as he lay scant inches away. Could sense the tension of his body as he considered closing the distance between them. She made an encouraging little noise in her throat and he made his decision. Carefully pressing up behind her, he slipped his right arm under her neck as his left hand moved beneath the blanket to cup her shoulder. "Sorry, Scully," he told her as he ran his hand down her arm. "Didn't mean to wake you." "'S'okay. What time is it?" "Twenty-five past eternity." His hand stopped at her bent elbow and then disappeared. "It's late." Her eyes drifted closed as she relaxed, leaning into the solid support of his chest. Even half asleep, she could feel his hesitation as his hand hovered somewhere between them. "Go ahead, Mulder. It's all right." He chuffed softly and nuzzled her hair as his hand came down on her belly. He ran it lightly across the swell and then dipped lower, slipping under her pajama top and back up before coming to rest at the fullest part. Fingers splayed, he pressed his palm against her skin. Taking in a long breath, he sighed it out and went still. She laid her hand on top of Mulder's, her fingers filling the spaces between his. "So what were you losing sleep over?" "Hmmm?" "You said you wanted to take a look at something." "Yeah ... " He drew his knees up and fitted them into the curve of her legs. There was no place where their bodies weren't touching now. Head to toe, he cradled Scully and the tiny life within her. "I was digging around and found one of my journals. The most recent, it seems." "I didn't know you still kept one." "Well, I did give it up for a while, but after Mom and the thing with Samantha ... Anyway, I was just looking up some dates and stuff. Trying to clear out some of the cobwebs in my head." "Oh," she said, limiting herself to a non-committal response. He wasn't looking at case files to jog his memory, but dates. Interesting. They lay quietly for several minutes, the bluish light from the TV flickering over their bodies as they spooned in his wide bed. And while sleep beckoned her, Scully fought it off, waiting for Mulder to finish what he'd begun. He was outwardly calm, but she could almost hear the gears in his head as they busily spun and caught. Then his hand began to move again. Cautiously but thoroughly, he mapped out the unfamiliar landscape. She felt his lips press against her hair and he whispered, "Does he move around a lot?" Scully smiled. Does every man imagine a son? "Sometimes. Now, more than at first. And lately he seems to be trying out for the local soccer team. Either that, or break dancing." Mulder chuckled. "But that's normal, right? Everything's okay with you -- both of you?" She lifted her arm and laid it atop his, snuggling it tighter around her. "I won't lie to you, Mulder, there've been some complications. But nothing life-threatening. I'm fine. We're fine. All the tests point to a normal, healthy baby." "I believe you," he said. "I just want to know that everything is gonna be all right. I need to know that." She pulled his hand up and kissed the knuckles. "It'll be as right as we can make it. And I think we've got a very good start." She held his hand to her cheek and blinked against the tears gathering in her eyes. His vulnerability could rip her heart out faster than anything else. She felt his chest swell against her back as he took in a deep breath. "Ah, Scully," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "We got our miracle, didn't we?" Her breath caught and she faltered as the tears fell. "Yes ... yes, we did." His response was to tighten his hold on her. Perhaps expressing its disapproval, their child suddenly shifted and kicked. "Mulder." She covered his hand and moved it over to the right. "Here, feel this." They lay absolutely still, as one. Until even their breathing was synchronized. And then the child kicked again, squarely under Mulder's palm. "I'll be damned." His voice was tinged with awe. Mulder snorted quietly. "That's amazing, Scully. Do it again." "It's not me, Mulder. And I don't think he'll do it on command." "Stubborn, huh? Like his mom." He pressed a little on her belly and was answered with another kick. "Or not." A lump remained under his hand and Mulder probed it a bit with his fingertips. "Scully, I swear I can feel toes." She didn't mention she was feeling something, too. Scully couldn't ignore the way his groin was pressed so tightly against her backside, or the reality of his burgeoning erection. She was hit with an unexpected wave of arousal. Instinctively, she squirmed against him until his penis was positioned just where she wanted it, snug in the crease of her ass. And then she rocked her hips, a single proposition. He moaned his approval, the sound emanating from deep in his throat. "Mmmm, you feel good." "So do you." Mulder echoed and multiplied her proposal, the rhythmic thrusts of his hips slight and unhurried, but in no way circumspect. His hand soon drifted upward and explored her breasts, palming them gently. "Oooo," he breathed, "what do we have here? My, how we've grown. I like it." Scully snorted in mock derision. "What has gotten into you, Mulder? You're brimming with masculine pride over the simple cause-and-effects of knocking me up." He flicked the side of his thumb across each nipple. Scully gasped at the sensation. It had been so, so long ... "I'll admit pride factors into it," he rejoined. "I did do this, after all. I made this," he repeated as he did another quick sweep of her belly. "Damn right, I'm proud." She didn't bother mentioning that she'd had something to do with the pregnancy, as well. Let Mulder have his moment. "You seem to be feeling a bit amorous, too," she said, noting the obvious. He returned to her breasts, his forefinger drawing steady circles around one nipple and then the other. He nosed away the hair at the nape of her neck and placed his lips there. "You got a problem with that, Scully?" She arched into his hand. "I thought we were just going to sleep." "That was the plan," he conceded. "Do you want to stop?" He was already pulling away. She grabbed at him, moving his hand back to her breast. "God, no. Don't you dare." He snickered as his hand slid down and slipped under the waistband of her pajamas. "Miss me?" "Yeah," she sighed as his fingers crept beneath her panties and combed through the curls there. "Missed you, missed this." "Ah, now I get it. You just want me for my incredible skill and endurance in the sack." "Well, there is that ... " She meant to say more, but just then Mulder's fingers delved lower and curled against her. He gathered her moisture and spread it upward, her swollen folds opening under his gentle pressure. Slick fingertips settled on her clitoris and expertly circled. Scully sighed and lifted her leg, draping it over his. "Oh, Mulder, that's wonderful." He nipped at her shoulder. "I still remember how to touch you, Scully, I haven't forgotten that." He teased the opening of her vagina with the tip of one long finger as she bucked her hips, trying to coax its entrance . The need to have him inside her *now* was almost too much to bear. "I want to make you come," he murmured, his cheek brushing against hers. "Will you let me do that for you?" "Oh, I wish you would." She ground against him as his finger pushed inside. Not all the way, though. Just to the second knuckle, just enough that he could curl the tip of it against the front wall of her vagina. She sighed with pleasure and began to roll over. Then grunted in frustration as he immediately pulled out and held her firmly against him. "Uh uh. Stay right there," he ordered. "I can reach all my favorite places this way." "But I want to touch you, too. And I want you inside me." "I was inside you, but you moved." "Don't tease me, Mulder. Rule number one: Never deny an extremely pregnant woman. My needs are not to be taken lightly." He dropped a kiss on her neck as his fingers resumed their spot between her legs. "Ask and ye shall receive, Scully." He made another sweep of her vulva before resuming the soft massaging of her clit. She sighed and relaxed against him. "And speaking of extremely pregnant women, is this safe?" "You mean having sex?" "Well, yeah, sort of. We're doing that now, in a way. What I meant was, is it all right if we, y'know ... ?" "Fuck?" She blushed at her own explicitness and buried her nose in the pillow of his right bicep, nipping at the sensitive skin there. Mulder yelped, bucking against her. "God, Scully," he moaned, trying not to laugh. "I love it when you talk dirty." "So do it," she retorted, reaching back and tugging his boxers down his hips. Awkwardly, she pushed her hand inside them and grasped his erection. He felt glorious in her hand. It seemed as if it had been forever since she'd held him like this, alive and throbbing against her palm. She stroked him from root to tip and then did it again. He relented and reached for the waistband of her pants as his boxers came all the way off. They chuckled nervously as they worked to remove the last of her clothing, both feeling like youthful, untested lovers. It took another few seconds for Mulder to reposition himself behind her. Scully had a moment of regret when she realized she couldn't kiss him this way, or see his face as he moved within her. But it was the only practical position for her, and as the head of his penis pushed past her labia and gained entry, she discovered there wasn't much room for regret. He felt too good. Mulder gently eased into her, inch by inch. "Okay, Scully?" he whispered. "Yeah ... keep going." Reaching back, she laid an encouraging hand on his backside, squeezing the rounded muscles. She curled her upper body away from him, changing the angle of penetration, and he slid all the way in. They both went still, Mulder's long exhalation warming her back. "My, my, my," he breathed. "It's been a long time." "A lifetime." Scully couldn't remember when she'd ever felt so full. Stretched to the limit. Ripe with life, and completed by the flesh and blood of her lover. "You feel incredible." His hand smoothed over her breasts and drifted down where they were joined. He rubbed her clitoris, drawing vivid circles of pleasure. "I'm almost afraid to move." "Why?" she asked as she parted her thighs to give him more room, once more draping a leg over his. "Because I don't want this to end. I want to stay like this forever. Just the three of us, right here in this bed. Not a care in the world." "If you think I'm gonna accept perpetual pregnancy, Mulder, you're crazier than I thought. It feels like I've entered a fourth trimester the way it is." "So what are you saying?" He'd begun to move in shallow thrusts already, knowing what she wanted but compelled to ask anyway. "Shut up and make love to me, Mulder." ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ And so he did. Cautiously at first, as if retracing the initial steps of a long-past journey. His hands on her flesh posed questions his lips wouldn't form, and she answered him with soft, encouraging sounds. He soon became more sure of himself and increased the depth and speed of his thrusts, losing himself in the sensations, tugging her along with him. They were both gasping and sweat-slickened when he withdrew his fingers from her clitoris and grabbed her hand, directing it where his had just been. Covering her fingers with his own, he made certain she took over the task before shifting behind her. Leaning slightly away, Mulder grasped the top of her shoulder in his right hand as his left curled around her hip. Fingers gripping muscle and bone, anchoring her, he drove into Scully time and again. They were silent, save the slap of their flesh and their ragged grunts. The sounds echoed sharply, loudly in her ears. Scully opened up and let it all in, the myriad sensations captivating her. Mulder's hot breath painting her back and the slippery slide of her fingers circling between her legs. The thick, hard length of him inside her and the inquisitive, waiting silence of their child. She hovered between mindless release and keen awareness, wanting so badly to let go, to cease all thought and simply feel. And craving as intensely the need to stay connected to Mulder, to hold on even now, even as he urged her toward orgasm and away from lucidity. Scully was gradually overcome by the battle being waged within her as he found his voice and began to whisper. Short, raw bursts of words scattered between the whiplash snapping of his hips. Telling her how good it was, and how much he loved loving her, how he'd missed her and ... ... oh god ... ... he was pounding inside her so deep and so hard and it was incredible, but she wanted so badly to turn and hold him, to see his face and those ever-changing eyes that told her everything and nothing and that she'd ached to look into one more, just one more time as she'd put him in his grave, and then on countless nights after. Regret stung her anew even as the tension of her impending release continued to build and build, coiling deep in her belly as Mulder drove into her and her fingers swirled, bumping up against his cock on every revolution. It was too, too much and she wanted to stop and to never stop and to just hang right there on the skinny, sharp edge of the slide into oblivion, but then Mulder shifted the angle of his hips and hit that perfect, perfect spot and ... sweet Jesus ... their child suddenly shifted and rolled, carried along by the strong contractions of her womb as her world imploded and she was sliding, sliding, sliding into an orgasm so powerful and deep she thought she'd never reach the end of it. But she did. And then she was blind-sided by scalding tears as he abruptly slowed. His furious pumping turning into lazy, rolling strokes. Mulder released his grasp on her hip and smoothed his hand down her spine. "I can't ... " he gasped, " ... hold on. Oh, god ... " Like a weary child, he laid the crown of his head between her shoulder blades and shuddered against her. A solitary groan followed, announcing that he'd come. He kept up the languid pumping of his hips, riding out the final moments of acute sensation as Scully sniffed and brushed the moisture from her cheeks. He slowed, stopped, and then skimmed his hand across her hip and down her thigh. The simple gesture was one of acknowledgment and greeting, a reconnection. Several moments passed as they both caught their breath. Scully fought to get her emotions in check, aware of Mulder's gradual realization of her state, and of his hesitation as he tried to interpret her tears. Then he shifted and left her body. Tugging at the same time she rolled, they ended up facing each other, foreheads and knees touching, her distended belly a cushion between them. Mulder leaned away a little, reaching out to push a lock of damp hair off her face. He ran his thumb over her cheek and then across her mouth. "Sensory overload, hon?" She sniffed again, and nodded, and then closed the distance between them. The first touch of their lips was soft and slow; chaste compared to what they'd just done. But it was them, and it was right. Mulder broke the kiss, his hand sliding back to cup her head. He caught her glance and held it. Scully saw that his eyes, too, were damp with tears. And then he kissed her again. At both corners of her mouth, her eyelids, her nose, the jut of her chin. Fresh tears gathered, and this time she didn't try to hide them. He caught a stray teardrop with his finger and then looked back into her eyes. "You ... " he whispered, " ... you are my life, Scully. And I'll never leave you again, I swear." She forced a smile, touching his face. "Mulder, you know you can't -- " "Shhhhh. Yes, I can." His mouth brushed over hers. "Just this once, don't argue with me, okay?" With as much as she owed him, with as little as he'd asked, it was the least she could do. The smile she gave him was more genuine than her last, and he acknowledged it with one of his own. They lay quietly for several minutes, sometimes kissing, always touching. Scully spent much of that time exploring him with gentle fingers, reacquainting herself with the beloved slopes and angles of his body. Mulder was silent during the lengthy process, studying her as she studied him, his heavy eyelids slipping shut in extended, slow blinks. He reminded her of a large, lithe cat after feeding, all sated and drowsy. When he finally spoke, his voice sounded abnormally loud, though it was barely above a whisper. "Have I ever told you about the summer I spent in North Carolina?" "No, I don't think you have." "I was, what, almost thirteen. It was the summer after Samantha disappeared. My parents weren't quite sure what to do with me. They were too busy dealing with each other at the time to look after me, so Mom called her folks and made arrangements for me to go down there for a couple months." "Were you close to your grandparents?" Mulder chuckled dryly. "Nope. Matter of fact, I'd never even met them until the day they picked me up at the airport." "You're kidding." He shook his head. "Just another fine example of the dysfunctional properties of the Mulder family unit. It wasn't too bad, really. It was an opportunity to get away from the craziness at home, and I was something of a loner by then anyway. They lived in a heavily wooded area near the Smoky Mountains, and were what I suppose some would refer to as 'backwoods.' I figured I could spend most of my time exploring. Y'know, if I stayed out of their way, maybe they'd do the same for me? It wasn't like I was expecting to be welcomed with open arms." Mulder turned over onto his back and Scully settled her head on his chest. Her fingers idly tugged at the sparse patch of hair growing there. "So were you?" she asked. "Oddly enough, yes. They were good people, Scully. Simple, and not very well-educated, but they were kind to me. It was something I didn't even know I needed until I got it." He dipped his head and kissed her hairline. "Anyway, I was having some trouble sleeping." Scully chuffed at this. "Yeah, I know," he continued. "Hard to believe, huh? So, as I was saying ... I'd started sleeping with a night light. That way, if I had a nightmare, I'd wake up and at least know where I was, be able to see things and get a handle on them faster. Sad for a thirteen year old, but the alternative wasn't very appealing, either." "What do you mean?" "Mom had started slipping me some of her happy pills. To ward off the nightmares. Or lessen their effect on me, I'm not sure. She'd get me doped up on Phenobarbital and call it good enough." Scully was aghast. "God, Mulder. Are you serious?" "Scary, huh?" He shrugged. "She meant well. And they seemed to help her. Helped me, too, but I hated feeling out of it like that. So I stopped taking them and asked for a night light instead." Mulder spent a minute scratching at itchy places and she used the time locating another pillow to put between her legs. They settled back down and Mulder took up his story. "I was unpacking my first night there and realized I'd forgotten to bring the night light. Couldn't ask my grandparents if they had one. It was too soon to be admitting to them what a coward I thought I was. But it was no biggie: I just left the bedroom light on that night. And the next and the next and so on. If they noticed, they never said anything." Scully's eyes slid shut as she stroked his chest and listened to him talk. His voice was pitched low, murmuring secrets to her in the almost-dark of the bedroom. Scully wondered when a muted television or a fish tank had replaced the night light. Mulder's fingers smoothed up and down her arm. "I'd been there about a week when the power went out. We had a hell of a thunderstorm one afternoon, the kind you can smell before it reaches you; makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. It knocked out the power in half the county, and since we were rural, we were last in line for repairs. "I didn't sleep much that night. Woke my grandparents up, screaming. Gramps stayed with me, in my room, until morning. They never said a word about it. Didn't ask a thing. Thinking back now, they must have known what was going on, or at least had a good idea what was causing the nightmares. I was so grateful for their silence that I told them about the night light during lunch; I made my confession. Told them about a few other things, as well. The power came back on just as it was getting dark, and I finally got some sleep." Mulder's tale was interrupted by a huge, noisy yawn. And being that they were contagious, Scully followed it with a jaw-popper of her own. She lifted her head and peered up at him. His eyes were closed. "You were saying something about getting some sleep, Mulder?" "Yeah, in a minute." He opened his eyes and looked down at her, challenging her to object. "This story does have a point, you know." "Really?" "Look, we can engage in witty, albeit sleepy, repartee, or you can let me finish." He laid his head back down, eyelids sliding shut. "Smartass." "I'm sorry," she grinned and kissed his chest. "Go on, I'm listening." "That's better. Okay, now where was I? Oh yeah, so anyway, I got up the next morning and my grandfather informed me that we'd be camping out that night. He had all the gear collected already and Nana filled a knapsack with food: peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, apples, some crackers and cheese. She made great PB&Js, the best I've ever had. I was a little confused about the whole camping thing, since it came out of nowhere, but I trusted Gramps well enough to go along with it. We set out after lunch and headed west. Just as twilight was gathering, we reached a clearing at the base of the mountains and set up camp." "Was it nice there?" "Oh yeah, it was beautiful. Quiet. The only sounds were the birds singing themselves to sleep and the wind rustling in the trees. It was very peaceful, like we were the only two people in the world." Mulder stretched and rolled back over onto his side. He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her as close as she could get, and traced his fingers up and down her spine. They finally settled on the small of her back and rubbed wide circles there. Scully groaned in appreciation, nuzzling her nose into his chest. "It got dark pretty quick. We had a fire going by then, and we sat around and ate our sandwiches and talked for quite a while. Then Gramps announced it was time to hit the sack. He rolled out the sleeping bags, setting them side-by-side and crawled into his. I followed suit, keeping a close eye on the fire. It was beginning to burn down and I started getting a little twitchy. "We laid there for a few minutes, not saying anything. I was working up the courage to ask him if he'd throw a little more wood on the fire when he looked over at me. 'Fox,' he said, 'I know it's not the dark you're afraid of, it's the places you go in your sleep. You're worried you won't be able to find your way home, that's all.' "I'd never thought of it that way until he said it, but damned if he didn't nail it right off the bat. And then he told me to look up at the sky. So I did. And it was amazing, Scully, how many stars there were, and how brightly they shown. Even on the Vineyard, there was enough artificial light to block out most of them. I don't think I'd ever really seen the night sky until then, and I've never forgotten how magical it was. "Then he said to me, 'You see them stars? You don't need a night light, or even a fire burning to find your way back. All you have to do is look up. And you know the best thing about that light up there?' he asked. 'It don't ever go away. Even when the sun is out, those stars are up there in the sky, shining down on us. All the time. So, boy, you keep that in mind when you get scared and confused. Because that light don't sleep.'" Mulder placed a soft kiss on her forehead. "I held onto those words, Scully, when I was away in that place, when they were doing the things they did to me. Those words, and you. That's all I had and it's all I needed. And it's funny, because after awhile, there wasn't any difference between you and the light. When I pictured one, I always saw the other. You were the light, and you never slept." Scully tipped her head back and kissed the warm column of his neck, pushing words past a huge lump in her throat. "Thank you for telling me that, Mulder." "Thank *you*, Scully." "I love you," she whispered. "I know. Me, too." A moment passed. And then, "Would I completely destroy the impact of your story if I go to sleep now?" Mulder's body shook with laughter. "No, not all," he assured her after his chortles faded away. "Sleep, Scully, you've earned it." "So have you." "Yeah, but I think I'm just gonna lay here for a minute and enjoy holding you again. It's not quite the same when I'm asleep." "I'll be here when you wake up." "Yeah, you will be. That blows me away. And I still only half believe it." "What?" "That I'm here, with you. And with our baby. And that I'm alive and reasonably sane." "Believe it, Mulder. It's real." "Okay, then, I'll try." Silence fell over them as two pairs of eyes closed and two hands settled on her belly, one hers, the other his. Mulder patted the swell and mumbled, "You, too, Baby. Go to sleep. No more soccer practice tonight." Scully forced her eyes open just enough to take one last look at the man lying next to her. Mulder's face was bathed in the pale bluish light of the TV. His features were relaxed, his mouth slightly open. She thought he might have nodded off until he spoke again, his words slurred with fatigue. "Hey, Scully?" "Yeah?" "It's good to be home." She stretched up and kissed his chin . "Yes, it certainly is." He slipped comfortably into sleep then, a faint smile on his face. And Scully followed him down. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Author's Notes: Huge thanks to my kick-ass beta team of Jennifer, Lesley, Mara, Micki and Shari. Extra helpings of cyber Screamer cookies to Jennifer and Shari for setting me straight on the smut. This story is better because of them. I intentionally eliminated a certain plot development, that being Mulder's supposed "terminal brain disease." Sorry, Chris, but it just doesn't fit with what we saw in S7 and seems to serve no purpose other than making Mulder look like a cold, heartless bastard. So, poof, it's outta there. Hey, if CC&Co. can ignore continuity, characterization, and a logical timeline, not to mention indulging in retroactive storytelling at its worst, then I can ignore the parts I don't like. The title of this vignette was taken from a line in David Gray's song, "Silver Lining," off his "White Ladder" CD. Those of you with eagle eyes might spot a couple others I pilfered. I only steal from the best. Things that made the muse happy this time: The above mentioned CD, Dove's Milk Chocolate Promises, Diet Coke, GPC Ultra Light 100s, and a pinch or two of homegrown. Thanks for reading, and I'll see ya around! :-)