FF: Lift Up Thine Eyes (XF)
Title: Lift Up Thine Eyes
Author: Ellie (windblownellie@yahoo.com)
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Sometime pre-IWTB
Summary: “Sister Agatha says she can feel God watching her from the mountain tops.”
****
I always assumed we would end up in Virginia. At some indefinable point, it had gone beyond thinking that we might end up together, to knowing that there was no other option for either of us. Even before we words of love were spoken, even before we went on the lam, it seemed inevitable.
Not here, though. Both of us had grown up on the water, so a townhouse near the river in Alexandria, maybe, or retiring to the tidewater after the monsters had been caught. Somewhere with boats and a crisp breeze off the water. Living in the mountains would never have been my choice, before. It got too cold, was too remote, too close to Skyland Mountain. Besides, working in DC, it would have meant a drive on I-66, which is only slightly less painful at rush hour than being attacked by a flukeman.
Mulder loves it here, to the surprise of both of us. Idleness has never set well with him. Once, I would have worried that he was a man too accustomed to the finer points of urban living, take-out Thai, menswear from Nordstrom, taxis. Too many years of hide and seek have taken their toll on him. Here, he has happily learned to cook, order from LL Bean, and walk through the acres of woods behind us, chasing nothing. These days, he does a lot of that, joining the vixen and her cubs who live on the edge of the woods. On summer evenings, when the mountains turn blue, sometimes we see them playing in the grass, pouncing on field mice. Mine pounces on obscure journals I bring him from the Norton post office box taken out by Mr. Reynard.
The mountains have grown on me, as well. Lift up mine eyes to the hills, says the Psalm, and not a day has passed here that I have not. There is something of a divine inspiration in them, and a peace which I am grateful to have finally found. For so many years I wandered, and I must be honest with myself that the journey is longer than the one I’ve been on with Mulder.
For years, I’d been on uneasy terms, if not with God, with my faith. Science has a way of making you question all your assumptions about the world, and the things I spent years investigating, the things I went through, left me doubting. I don’t see how any rational person could see what I have, and not question. I wasn’t sure whether I could go back, even if I wanted to. The dark parts of men’s souls that I’ve seen would chill any holyman to the bones.
Yet for all the horrors and atrocities, there have been moments of awesome grace. Those are what I’ve been left with, because the alternative is unthinkable. When the world seemed to crash down upon us, the grace stayed with me. I started going to church in whatever town we happened to be in, lighting a candle for what might have been and giving thanks for what was. Eventually I started believing it.
Faith settled me here, and my help as come from, and to, these mountains. I’d always held with faith through works, and the opportunity to help others here, as well as settle a life for myself, for Mulder, seemed providential. For all the apparent desolation and isolation here, there is a profound peace. Sister Agatha says she can feel God watching her from the mountain tops; I don’t know that I feel Him sitting up there, but I certainly feel like I’m looking on His work as I follow the peaks heavenward. There is certainly something blessed watching over our few sheltered acres, leaving Mulder unnoticed by the world.
I watch him bounding up the porch steps now, a spring in his step I haven’t seen in years. Maybe a decade. Far too long.
I look up the coppery slopes to our north, and give thanks.
****
Author's Notes: It's been a long time since I've written anything, especially XF. I don't even have an icon. Worth posting elsewhere?
Author: Ellie (windblownellie@yahoo.com)
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Sometime pre-IWTB
Summary: “Sister Agatha says she can feel God watching her from the mountain tops.”
****
I always assumed we would end up in Virginia. At some indefinable point, it had gone beyond thinking that we might end up together, to knowing that there was no other option for either of us. Even before we words of love were spoken, even before we went on the lam, it seemed inevitable.
Not here, though. Both of us had grown up on the water, so a townhouse near the river in Alexandria, maybe, or retiring to the tidewater after the monsters had been caught. Somewhere with boats and a crisp breeze off the water. Living in the mountains would never have been my choice, before. It got too cold, was too remote, too close to Skyland Mountain. Besides, working in DC, it would have meant a drive on I-66, which is only slightly less painful at rush hour than being attacked by a flukeman.
Mulder loves it here, to the surprise of both of us. Idleness has never set well with him. Once, I would have worried that he was a man too accustomed to the finer points of urban living, take-out Thai, menswear from Nordstrom, taxis. Too many years of hide and seek have taken their toll on him. Here, he has happily learned to cook, order from LL Bean, and walk through the acres of woods behind us, chasing nothing. These days, he does a lot of that, joining the vixen and her cubs who live on the edge of the woods. On summer evenings, when the mountains turn blue, sometimes we see them playing in the grass, pouncing on field mice. Mine pounces on obscure journals I bring him from the Norton post office box taken out by Mr. Reynard.
The mountains have grown on me, as well. Lift up mine eyes to the hills, says the Psalm, and not a day has passed here that I have not. There is something of a divine inspiration in them, and a peace which I am grateful to have finally found. For so many years I wandered, and I must be honest with myself that the journey is longer than the one I’ve been on with Mulder.
For years, I’d been on uneasy terms, if not with God, with my faith. Science has a way of making you question all your assumptions about the world, and the things I spent years investigating, the things I went through, left me doubting. I don’t see how any rational person could see what I have, and not question. I wasn’t sure whether I could go back, even if I wanted to. The dark parts of men’s souls that I’ve seen would chill any holyman to the bones.
Yet for all the horrors and atrocities, there have been moments of awesome grace. Those are what I’ve been left with, because the alternative is unthinkable. When the world seemed to crash down upon us, the grace stayed with me. I started going to church in whatever town we happened to be in, lighting a candle for what might have been and giving thanks for what was. Eventually I started believing it.
Faith settled me here, and my help as come from, and to, these mountains. I’d always held with faith through works, and the opportunity to help others here, as well as settle a life for myself, for Mulder, seemed providential. For all the apparent desolation and isolation here, there is a profound peace. Sister Agatha says she can feel God watching her from the mountain tops; I don’t know that I feel Him sitting up there, but I certainly feel like I’m looking on His work as I follow the peaks heavenward. There is certainly something blessed watching over our few sheltered acres, leaving Mulder unnoticed by the world.
I watch him bounding up the porch steps now, a spring in his step I haven’t seen in years. Maybe a decade. Far too long.
I look up the coppery slopes to our north, and give thanks.
****
Author's Notes: It's been a long time since I've written anything, especially XF. I don't even have an icon. Worth posting elsewhere?