Heal

by Shannon

(500 words)



What have I done?

I stand over them, nearly as motionless as they are.  My eyes are unblinking.  My heart has stopped.  What’s the difference?  I’m only bleeding on the inside.

Children.  Infants, even.  A grandmother crying from her doorway, too afraid to come gather up her babies’ bodies to take inside, away from the Tunisian sun, into the shadow of the three walls that are left around her.   She’s afraid of me.

As I look back down at the torn flesh, the broken bones...I see a plume of smoke writhe over the bodies.  The fire is near, but I’m upwind of it.

"Nice work, Alex," he says behind me.

Nice work.

I come awake suddenly, sweating and sitting up in bed.  Mulder’s arms are already around me.  Keeping me safe from him...them safe from me.

"Alex...  It’s okay.  you're awake."

But it doesn't matter.  It doesn't matter.  The acrid smell of sand on fire and cigarettes is inside me, choking my heart.  His hands stroke my back.  My breath eases a little.

"It’s over," he consoles.  "Long over."

"I didn't mean to," I tell him.  The tears shimmer through my voice, erupting inside me until they must overflow out onto him.  "I didn't..."

He rocks me.  "I know."

He does.  He forgives me.  Forgave me.  He saw them, too, and still...he forgave me.  Of all people.  We buried them.  We rebuilt their homes.  Mulder suffered their pain with me.  I tried to tell them, though I never learned their native tongue, "I’m sorry."

The peace missions came.  A million people, hands outstretched, empty of weapons.  Mulder would hold me through the night as I murmured incessantly, "I didn't know, I didn't know," still too wounded to cry.  Unworthy to.  He held me.

I left their eyes of deep burns, full of cinders and old souls departed.  Mulder took me home.  A year ago that was.  A year ago today.  It’s four in the morning and Mulder is now soaked with my sweat and still holding tight to me.

"He’s gone," he tells me, and the cigarette smoke wafts away.  Mulder turns me in his arms...kisses me, open and wet and slow.  He whispers forgiveness into my neck as he lays me down.  He covers me, mouth loving, cock swollen, heart beating hard against my naked chest.    He makes love to me, makes peace with me, fills me, floods me, guides me through each moment.

"It’s a new earth," he reassures me.  "It’s time to live again, Alex."

I still cry.  Everyday I cry.  But he’s there.  And the skies are blue again, azure reflections of  a world healing itself, a soul mending its rent fabric.

"I love you," he tells me.  Every day.  Every night.  He pulls me in against him.  He protects me from memories still too close.  He lets me remember, and then he washes me clean with kisses.  I sigh against his chest.  I let him settle me into the first real peace I’ve ever known.

END

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