SPOILERS: X-Files: Two Fathers, One Son, Millennium: Via Dolorosa, Goodbye to All of That (series finale)
>Not for any challenge, just some slashy, sappy fluff written to relieve my own feelings. No plot, but when have I used one before?


FURTHER UP AND FURTHER IN

Baldwin woke and his eyes were closed. He kept them that way while he assessed the situation. Pungent odours -- humid, green plant smells --filled each breath. Sounds -- were there any? An undercurrent of ambient nature, maybe. There, for a moment, a bird. Where was he lying? But, he realised, he wasn't lying -- he was standing upright. And something was missing...missing...the pain. No pain. How long had he been out?

"Barry," someone said. He opened his eyes.

A forest. He was standing in a forest -- leafy trees, damp moss, healthy brush. And there, sitting against a tree-trunk, holding a book...

"Jeff?" What the *fuck*? "But, Jeff you're..."

"Yes, I am." Spender stood, stretching a little. He took a few steps towards Baldwin. Baldwin backed up the same distance. Was he going crazy? Is this what happened to Frank? See what the killer sees, get a one-way ticket to the psych ward. He was probably in five-point restraints right now, shot full of Thorazine. "Barry, so are you."

That was worse. Or was it? He held out his hands and stared at them. For someone who was supposed to be dead, he felt very, very alive. He stared at Spender. So did he. "I don't understand."

"Neither do I." Spender approached again and this time Baldwin moved towards him instead of away. Reaching out, he took Spender's shoulders. They were warm and solid under his hands. Real. Living.

"I missed you, Jeff." There was more he wanted to say, a lot more, but the words still caught in his throat, just as they had before. Before. Wrapping his arms around Spender, he hugged him fiercely, rejoicing in the feel of the body tight against his own, something he thought he'd never feel again. Maybe he was mad, but it was a glorious madness. A madness better than sanity.

After a minute, Spender pulled back a little, drew Baldwin's head around, kissed him. Madness, ecstasy, and everything spun dizzily until only Spender's arms around him kept Baldwin from collapsing.

Then they stood apart a ways, looking at each other. Even now, even here, Baldwin wouldn't let himself cry, but it was a near thing. Blinking, he glanced around the clearing. For the first time, he noticed a trail leading off through the woods. "Jeff, what's down there?"

"I don't know." Spender smiled. "I was waiting for you."

Baldwin smiled back. Linking hands, they started down the path together.

-fin-


The title is from "The Last Battle" by C.S. Lewis.

Halrloprillalar "Hal" hal@prillalar.com

All I know about Baldwin is what I saw on TV.

http://members.tripod.com/~prillalar/fic/fic.html