Music Of The Heart

By Merzibelle

Breathing

"Alone again," Wes thought turning slowly to face where Fred lay asleep on one of the sofas. Somehow he understood her reasoning for sleeping down here where he was still working. She didn't want to be alone, needing the reassurance of the soft noises that he made while researching to comfort her now. If their relationship was different, he'd hold her in his arms, kiss her breathless. Reassure himself that she was still alive in the oldest way known to man.

Fred shivered, curling tighter in on herself. Wes didn't know if she was actually cold or if what merely a suppressed emotional reaction but she was shivering on the sofa. Turning away from her, Wes slipped into his office retrieving the afghan that was tossed over the back of the office sofa. Returning to the lobby, he carefully draped the afghan over Fred where she lay on the couch. Instinctively, she curled into the warmth of the cover, one hand grabbing the edge and pulling it closer.

Wes knelt on the floor beside her, resting an arm on the edge of the couch and leaning his cheek against that. He couldn't resist watching her sleep. The innocence that she projected during the day was accentuated by the way she slept, curled in on herself with a hand under her cheek, so like a child. He could have lost her today. It was easy to remember the sight of her bound to that chair with a sword at her throat. It had scared him to the depths of his soul. The fear that she would die before he could rescue her haunted him even now.

Fred's soft slow breathing as she slept calmed Wes, relaxing him, and he drifted into a hazy state of almost sleep. Just the knowledge that she was there, sleeping in the lobby allowed him to put the day behind him. To organize his thoughts, set aside the stress and worry, to dream that perhaps she did feel about him the way that he did for her.

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