Author: Daydreamer
Date: 1 January 2003

Sweet Slumber's Gift

I want to fall asleep to the beat of his heart. It is a soothing rhythm that somehow makes the world right again. He is drifting off first in a change to our usual pattern, and I lay with my head on his chest, one arm draped lazily across his shoulder, absently stroking his short-shorn hair.

It had been too close today. I stroke the bandage that covers his side, feel again the clutch of fear that had gripped me as I heard the shot, saw the bullet, then felt him push me to the side, taking the hit himself, and saving my life. It had just been too damn close.

I listen to the unconscious rhythm of his heart and feel the stillness as his body winds down. Gradually, his breathing slows and deepens, and I can imagine it is me he is inhaling.

I am happy here. Secure. After what we've been through, what we almost lost, I want to stay here forever, giving myself to him until he absorbs me completely and I am his. He sleeps now, and the grip of his arms around me slackens slightly, but still he remains strong, powerful, protective, territorial. He is my protector -- once again he's saved my life and now, in keeping with ancient traditions, he is responsible for it. I cling to him, refusing to let him let me go.

Then his pulse softens and the familiar beating begins to quiet. The change from light sleep to deep would be imperceptible to anyone but me. But I know this man better than he knows himself. He is asleep, far away in his lands of dreams and fantasy, and yet I know that I am the only person in his real world. The one who matters more than anyone else.

And he knows that he is the only person in mine.

I will remember this. I will cherish this moment, this time. I will remember his scent, his sound, the feel of hard muscle beneath his smooth skin. He lay there today, bleeding, his lifeblood bathing me with warmth while cold fear clutched at my soul. Yet still his eyes were filled with adoring love -- for me. I will engrave the look in his eyes in my heart forever. I will stop time, halt its forward movement and remember only this: he loves me.

He would have died for me.

I am his.

For this moment, I want only to be with him. I want to relish the sensation of his touch, his taste, his feel. I want to watch him breathe, and feel him sleep, and know that his life is safe.

My life is always safe; he is my protector.

He's beautiful in sleep. He sighs softly, twitches at my touch. I move and he wakes, just for a fraction of a second, to adjust himself so that he can hold me more closely. Even in his sleep, he holds me close; he keeps me safe.

And so I lie here, loving him, and wondering if it is enough. What else can I offer this man who has given me everything -- including my life? It is a grace. His love is pure grace. A gift given with no thought of recompense. He loves because he finds me lovable. And I let him because I cannot imagine my life without his love. And so it is that I will always be pushed aside and he will always be in harm's way, because for him, there is no other way, and I can not deny him who he is.

I will always be safe.

I will always be protected.

I will always be loved.

I don't understand how this grace came to me, but I am grateful for it each and every day. And now, as I lie here and listen to his gentle breaths, his beating heart, I'll drift away at last into the peace that is sweet slumber's gift.

He sighs and it is my name that slips past his lips as he tucks me against him more tightly and places a gentle kiss on my head.

I fall asleep to the beat of his heart, a soothing reminder that once again, all is right with the world.