Title: A Good Night's Sleep Author: TJ Feedback: It's my favorite kind of mail to get! 2ISUGRADS@Prodigy.net Rating: G Classification: SPOV, V Summary: Mulder has returned, but sleep doesn't come easily for anyone. Disclaimer: Here we go again... They aren't mine, although I'd happily rescue Mulder right now and give him back to Scully if they were. There is no financial gain in this for me, just much needed stress relief. We all know who they legally belong to so let's just get on with the story. Notes: A big thanks to D, as always, just for being my best 'net friend and one of the nicest Philes I know! You are a saint to put up with all my tech problems. Fellow insomniacs and X-File addicts, UNITE! * See end for more. xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX A Good Night's Sleep He lays next to you asleep, quiet breathing signaling a peaceful night for a change. You always wait like this, hoping that the dreams won't come, that he won't thrash so hard this time almost throwing you out of bed. Won't scream endlessly until he finally awakes to realize that you're here with him and he's safe; safe in your arms. But how can you protect him when he doesn't let you see the monsters he flees? He won't tell you; says he can't talk about it. You know he thinks he's protecting you, but you lose almost as much sleep over it as he does. You decide to get up, to check on another who's sleeping. You creep quietly into the room across the hall and open the door carefully. You should remember to oil the hinge tomorrow so it doesn't squeak like it does. Just a peak, is always what you think, just a glance to make sure she's all right, that dreams don't haunt her as well... or something even worse. But like most nights, you end up gliding in, moving next to the crib, peering over the side, and hold your hand in front of her tiny parted mouth; almost touching the pouty lips so much like the other's. You feel the warmth of sweet baby breath and sigh. You shouldn't worry so. She's past the age where SIDS is usually a concern, and you always place her on her back... but yet the worry is still there; beyond what other mothers dread. You thought you'd lost him, and during that horrible time, almost lost this one too. Those two close calls with tragedy send you spiraling into panic if you let the memories settle in your mind for too long. Paranoid is something you never thought you'd be, but here you are... For the first months you all slept together, so you could keep watch over both. Just in case, just to be sure. You have your own monsters to run from, but hide them as well as he hides his. You've had to be so much since he came back into your life, just in time to be a part of this one's arrival. Two helpless souls, all at once seeking your comfort and unconditional love, needing you like you've never been needed before. It's been overwhelming at times, but you wouldn't want it any other way, because at least you have them... and you're all together. It's taken time to get used to this new arrangement, one in bed with you, the other not. Most nights you restlessly pace from one room to the other, torn between them. Who needs you most? Where do you belong? He told you to keep her with the both of you, but you stubbornly insisted it was time. Time for some healthy separation, you'd said. That was your explanation. You wonder if that time will ever come for him. You think you want that for him also, but do you really? Because if that day ever happens, can you be certain he'll stay? You hear a murmur from the other room and return to him once more; watch as he cringes in the corner of the bed, hands covering his face. You know better than to reach for him, to touch him at this point. Your hands remain idle at your side no matter how badly you want to use them to soothe him. Instead you use your voice; offer him comfort with the whisper of his name, promises that you're not leaving him, he's all right, that he is home now. He shakes and shudders and curls tighter into a ball. At least this isn't one of the violent ones. With time, his trembling subsides. You begin to think it's safe to wrap your body around his, that the danger of him lashing out at you has passed, so you bend over him. But a different cry from across the hall brings you upright again. He whimpers in unison, as if sensing you're going to leave. A small, high pitched plaintive cry sounds in contrast to his deep moan. A hungry wail. Him calling your name in agony. A tiny repetition of the simple word, Ma Ma. Where do you go? Who needs you most? What role do you assume? You never considered you'd have to make choices like this again if he came back. Your heart splits, divided by the same two impulses that make it beat in the first place. You hush him, fingertips to his hair, utter a promise that you'll be right back, then hurry to respond to the small cries of the other name you're called these days. You don't worry about the squeak of the door this time as you go into the room. Tiny arms reach toward you as you bend to lift her squirming body, her mouth already open in anticipation of a midnight snack. You're too tired to sit in the chair for the next half hour till her hunger pains are eased, and besides, you promised him you'd be right back. So you carry her with you into the other room and hope that he might have drifted back to a peaceful sleep like he sometimes does on his own. Instead he's sitting up with dark circled eyes watching you...watching her... as she rummages at your breast, pushing aside your pajama top. She has her father's patience, you like telling him, and it makes him smile when you do. You try to make him smile like that as often as you can. "Bring her here," he says, patting the mattress next to him. You move toward him and adjust her against you, trying not to break the suction she's already accomplished. He moves some pillows so you can lie down next to him on your side, his front to your back, her face to your front. You are sandwiched between them; a comforting position. "She just can't wait, can she?" he says with a tired laugh. And you think how it's so good to hear that sound again. It's rare when he relaxes enough to let it happen. You say nothing but shake your head with a smile and let her squeeze your finger as she noisily slurps. His hand moves over your ribs to gently cup the breast she feeds at and he watches, his cheek pressed to yours. The intimacy of the moment clouds your eyes with tears. "Let her stay here," he says softly. And you're about to object, your head overruling your heart on the matter, but suddenly you realize something. You remember when it became difficult to share this bed with him because his bad dreams became more frequent and violent. In his sleep he started to fight against the things you were fortunate enough not to remember from your own experience... It was when you took her from this same bed and moved her to her own that it started... when you broke the circle that protected you all. He wraps his arm around you tighter and offers her one of his fingers too. Just as tightly as she holds each of your hearts in her tiny hands, she grips your fingers, drinking in your mother's milk and both of your love. And you know this is how it should be. Maybe all of you will finally be able to get some much needed rest. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX Author's Notes: "People who like to use the phrase, 'sleeping like a baby', have obviously never had a baby." -My mom I would love to see a scene like the last one in this story on the show, but I'm sure I won't. That's why I wrote it. ;) TJ (Wanting to see a cleavage shot of Scully that's gratuitous only in this sense.) gratuitous- 1. given, bestowed, or obtained without charge or payment, free. * Many thanks to my friends in La Leche League.