Work Text:
Safety V
by Jadzia
That...tingles.
Not just where we're touching, no, all over.
I just have to look. I can't believe he's actually here. Could be a hallucination, like the other times.
Light sleeper.
Yeah, sure.
For days I've been hearing noises in front of my door. But it never was him. And then, standing behind that door for the umpteenth time today - he nearly gave me a coronary.
I keep thinking he will disappear sooner or later.
Dissipate.
Fade away.
But - no.
Still tingles.
His hand still in mine.
Around mine.
As if it belonged there.
As if it should always have been there.
Here, with me.
I'm wondering what made him come here. He must have been following my traces.
He's fast.
I didn't expect him so soon.
But I'm glad he's here.
Though somehow I didn't have time to think it through.
Work it out.
Get it clear.
Maybe I wouldn't have been able to, anyway. No matter how much time.
Maybe I didn't want to.
Maybe it's good he's here soon. I would have continued leaving traces.
Until someone came.
Someone to end it.
They're not dumb.
Not as clever as he is, but not dumb.
They would have come.
Sooner or later.
I wanted them to.
I decided to give him six weeks to find me. Then I would have made it obvious.
But dammit Fox, you're fast.
Good, I guess.
I'm so tired.
I'm so tired, they would've found me anyway.
Soon.
I didn't get much to eat.
I didn't sleep.
I wanted to be here when he came.
Or someone.
I'm so tired, I don't know how it is to be awake and alert anymore.
Don't want to know.
Want to sleep.
Forever.
Want to sink into black nothingness, enveloping, drowning, soothing, hiding.
Slide down, my breath ceasing, my heartbeat fading, this dark green shimmer of his eyes filling my universe as I go, still tingling -
I look at him as he squeezes my hand, hard, pulling me back, into the light with him.
Looks at me...concerned?
No one looks at me like that.
No one ever did, as long as I can remember.
Can't stand it.
Don't deserve it.
But, Jesus, does it feel good.
Warm.
Secure.
I still don't know why he's here. Why he cares about me.
I expected him to come and shoot me. If he came at all. Thought he would be yelling, cursing, swearing.
Those hands.
They only brought me pain.
Bruises.
Now - he sits on my bed, his hand curled around mine, his thumb stroking my wrist...gently. Reminds me of a feather. A soft whisper of wind.
Nothing anyone does to *me*.
But he does.
Holds my hand.
Gives me comfort with his silence.
Radiates his warmth around me.
I suddenly realize I'm cold.
So cold.
Inside.
Maybe if I sit still, he will stay a little longer and I can get some of this warmth for me.
I shiver.
He shifts.
I knew it.
I close my eyes and wait for him to leave.
Leave me alone.
Again.
As always.
I feel my tears run down my face, leaving little trails of fire. I'm just wondering that I've never cried so much over one person in my life, as I feel an electrical surge run through me.
My head snaps up, my eyes fly open, and everything's near blue again as his eyes take me in.
He's sitting right next to me now, touching from shoulder to knee, his head tilted, his eyes focused on me like I'd be one of his precious cases.
Even more, I've never seen him so intent.
Both of his hands around mine now.
I look down, and I see my hand between his beautiful fingers, hidden, sheeted, warmed.
I wish I could crawl inside there, and stay forever.
I can smell him now.
Oh God.
My eyes threaten me to close them.
Tired.
Sleep.
Just a little.
Get a grip, Alex, you *can't*.
They'll come.
You have to be *awake*.
I don't want to be shot in my sleep.
I want to be awake when he leaves.
Don't want to wake up in the cold without the tingling.
Don't want to miss a moment of this, want to savor every second of his presence.
I can't see clear.
Everything blurs.
I watch the colors swirl beautifully for a few seconds before hastily opening my eyes again.
Hey, wait - he smiled.
He did.
At *me*.
I haven't been taking that many pills.
I hope.
He squeezes my hand - and suddenly I'm cold again, utterly cold, and I watch him walking towards the door.
He seems to feel my shocked gaze though, since he turns and looks at me -reassuringly, I think. Holds up a finger, and I wait. Watch him take out his Sig and open the door, looking around outside.
He comes back in, locks the door and puts his gun in his holster again in a fluent motion, and God, he's beautiful.
He takes out his cellphone, dials, and talks a few minutes...I'm still wondering why he's here, what I should think about all this, but I *hope* I'm allowed to postpone this, because the colors are swirling again.
He talks about...protection...and hangs up, and when this light yellow merges with the orange spot in the left corner, I feel him take off my shoes.
Fox Mulder.
Takes off my shoes.
Too many pills, I knew it.
Can just as well close my eyes when I'm hallucinating.
Liked that purple thingy swirling in the middle really well.
My socks and jeans disappear, my shirt...my arm.
I'm pushed backwards, gently, more rustling somewhere, and I'm warm again.
Must be the arm around me...the chest behind me...the leg between mine...the lips on the top of my head.
I struggle and he lets me turn, lets me bury my face in his chest, lets me smell him.
Oh Fox, you smell so good.
Tired.
We'll talk tomorrow.
Now, just hold me.
Hold me safe.
Just like this.
THE END
by Jadzia, 20.02.99