Title: Night Baptism (1/1) Author: Ima Believer Email: ima_believerxf@yahoo.com Spoilers: 3 Rating: R Category: VA, Mulder/Other, Third Person POV, MSR (believe it or not) Disclaimer: Not mine. CC's. No money has changed hands. Don't sue. Feedback: Hit me with your best shot. Archive: Please ask first. Author's Notes: At the end. Summary: Salvation comes in strange forms. Night Baptism Your cross gleams golden in the grayness of the dawn, reminding me of you. I will never know you, yet I feel your presence from across the miles, as certain as I feel my own breath rush into my lungs, steady and sure as the beating of my heart. This symbol of your faith rises and falls softly as he sleeps, glinting rhythmically against his chest beneath his open shirt, the fabric as pale as his skin. I wonder if he dreams of you. When I was fifteen, I stood before the congregation at my father's church on a drab Sunday morning, shining like a beacon in my white satin robe. The pastor helped me step into the baptismal font and motioned for me to sit down. Then he took my head in his hands, his spider-like fingers clutching beneath my long dark hair, and he thrust me backwards, the water engulfing me in a thunderous rush. I was quiet for a moment, but then the panic of being held under rose in me, and I opened my mouth to scream. Instead of vital oxygen, water filled my lungs, and I thrashed beneath his hands, sure that he meant to drown me, certain that I was about to die. Perhaps it would have been better to die there. My father beat me senseless that night, shrieking that the Devil must've possessed me, that the baptism didn't work. He yelled that my eyes had betrayed me, that I looked as if I had sunk into the bottomless pit of hell. I understand that look now. I saw it tonight, in your partner's eyes. I understood it when he looked at me in the bathroom. His exhaustion was easy to perceive, the way he slumped slightly as he stood shaving, the delicate skin beneath his eyes like a bruised, unwanted peach. But when I stood before him and looked into those eyes, I saw a shattered man, a man whose spirit was more dead than alive, one who was slowly becoming a creature of darkness, just like me. Then the spark of your cross, winking as he inhaled, caught my attention, and I realized he didn't have to die. Not if he chose to live. Not if he believed, like you. When he kissed me, I could feel his need, his longing, his hunger. It radiated out of him, intoxicatingly demanding, urgent and raw. He crushed me to him, his hands trying to touch me everywhere at once, to claim me in the same way I have been claimed countless times before. He lifted me up and pushed me back against the sink, plunging his hands beneath my gown, seeking the heat between my legs. I felt his fingers there and pulled away, slapping him back. "Stop," I murmured. "Not yet. Not like that." His face was contorted, his eyes filled with a pain I could recognize as my own. "I-I want--" he faltered. "You want her," I finished. I slid my fingers over the chain around his neck, tracing along his skin. It was hot and smooth, and he quivered beneath my hand. "Let me be her for you." He swallowed and shut his eyes, and I lifted the pendant over his head and draped it around my own neck. "Love me the way you want to love her." He picked me up again, his hands cradling the curves of my hips, bringing his lips to mine again. This kiss was soft, fluttering against my senses like the new wings of a butterfly, and I opened my mouth beneath his. I have never been kissed that way before, a kiss that tasted like sunshine and silk. I locked my ankles behind his back, and he turned, pinning me against the wall, his hands skimming over the satin of my negligee. They moved over my body for what seemed a very long time, sending waves of pleasure through me, thrills of lightness and freedom that I have never experienced. And then, for a moment, I did feel possessed. I felt his fingers enter me, gliding easily into my core, and I became you. I closed my eyes and moved against him, listening to the rumble of your name in my ear as he whispered, and I saw you with him. A flash of red around your head like a halo, and your golden cross in the hollow of your neck, the same place where he pressed a kiss as I clutched his shoulders. I felt his tears wet my cheeks, and I kissed his with a tenderness that could only have been yours. He curved his fingers inside me, pulsating a rhythm there, slowly building a sensation that I felt deep in the soul of me that I thought I had lost long ago. And when I finally rocked into him one last time, you exploded all around me, grasping at his hand with an intensity that left me fighting for air, and for myself. Afterward, he sprawled in the chair and dozed, and I laid your chain once more around his neck. The tears caused by your presence still bead on his closed lashes, glittering softly like a refreshing morning dew on spring grass. They washed him clean. They healed me, like no other baptism was ever able to do. I am human again, and so is he. I know you will return to him. And I know I will be dead. Some things are meant to be. ***End*** Author's Notes: Like this? Want to read more stuff by Ima? Hit this page: http://www.geocities.com/iwtbxf/ima.htm You can find out the TRUE identity of the mysterious Ima, in all her incarnations.