Silent Lucidity

"Hey."

He looks up at the sound of her voice, his eyes easily finding hers across the expanse of his entry. He smiles at her, a small smile that comes naturally, that's soft and wistful and a little achy, and Kate quietly closes the door behind her, sliding out of her trench coat at the same time.

Her soles are quiet on the hardwood floor as she walks toward him, his eyes never leaving her face, the connection between them almost palpable, a magnetic force field that has drawn them toward each other since the moment they met.

She drapes her coat over the wooden railing by the stairs, and he wordlessly scoots over on the step, giving her room.

She stands immobile for a moment, her face layered with understanding, and warmth, and what can only be called love. Her fingers are light as they dance over the side of his face, down to his jaw line, before they travel the length of his neck, the valleyed landscape of his shoulders, down his arms. He watches her quietly, his eyes never leaving hers as she maps his contours by mere touch, her caress knowing, familiar.

Entwining her fingers with his, she finds her place next to him, sitting nudged against his side, and then she lifts both their arms over her head so that his comes to rest around her shoulder blades.

He tugs her closer, tightly against his side with an almost audible sigh and she sinks against his chest, her cheek finding its place on the slope of his chest. Her arm slides around his waist, fingers gripped firmly into him finding purchase, while he rests his cheek on the crown of her head.

They sit quietly, the hum of electronics the only sounds that reverberate through the now silent loft. His fingers mindlessly play over the rim of the medal, circle the engraved images on its face.

Kate tilts her face up to his, her eyes wide, luminous in the brightly lit space as she regards him closely, her words silent in the depths of her eyes, the whispered thoughts of reassurance, trust, comfort, hope.

He rests his forehead against hers, their eyes sliding closed, in synch with each other and the sigh from his chest is heavy, full with ache and relief. Kate moves a hand to his thigh, giving herself leverage as she turns further into his embrace, fingertips pressed against the inside of his leg.

With one last swipe across, he places the medal on the stair next to him, instead lifting her hand off his leg and enfolding it within his now freed one. This gentle handshake, meaningful as it is only between lovers, his fingers curled around her wrist, while her thumb draws concentric circles atop the pad between his thumb and index finger.

Her lips open on a sigh, a quiet breath of need and he nudges his nose against hers, tenderly sliding across the tip of hers in a sweet, loving Eskimo kiss.

She slowly blinks open her eyes, her gaze locking with his. The gentle smile that played on her lips falls away as pure want arrests her features, the delirious, inevitable force of desire. She moves toward him, a gradual, unstoppable draw while he meets her halfway, enraptured, seeking her comfort, her want for him, her love.

Their heads close, so very close as they share their breaths within the infinitesimal space left between their faces. Quiet wraps around them, a comforting blanket, like protection from the evil of the world around them. Even when it's just the evil of an inevitable goodbye.

And then his mouth sinks onto hers, nipping first her upper, then her lower lip in tender, almost exploratory touches, the swipe of his tongue a soft caress along the outline of her beautiful mouth. She practically sinks into it, whimpers, moving her hand from around his waist to cradle it over his neck, pulling him further into her. He captures the sounds drifting from her mouth, kisses her deeply, wantonly, full of his hurt, his worries, and the suppressed desire of their day.

"Kate," her name drifts through the silence, pressed out between their kiss and she moans with it, her hand gripped tightly around his knuckles. She turns, swings one leg over his hips until she is in his lap, her legs pressed tightly to his sides, gripping him to her, holding on.

Holding him.

Mouths still together he tugs her against his chest until there is no space left between them, his arms wrapped tightly around her shoulder blades, the curve of her slim waist, pulling her further into him on a groan, needing her closer, ever closer.

Holding her.

In the open hallway atop the stairs, Martha sighs quietly, turning away from the balustrade she's been leaning over. Yes, she peeked, one might even call it spying but she simply cannot help it when the sight is ever so captivating.

Now though, she really must leave them their privacy. There are certain things a mother does not need to see.

She tiptoes toward her room, the smile wide on her face and she swipes the streak of tears off her cheeks that won't stop falling tonight. Tears of sadness, speaking of goodbyes and changes. Tears of joy and relief.

Her boy will be fine.