Visions in the Hour of the Wolf

by Starkiller

PAIRING: This is a toughie. When I wrote this, I wrote it from MY heart, not from anyone else's pov, but I think it actually fits best with Obi and Qui.

RATING: NC17

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. Lucas owns everything. I don't even have a bottle of coke in the fridge.

BETA: Su

ARCHIVE: MA, my site, others please ask first.

NOTES: Inspired by a conversation with Damo on the nature of love and a memory that sprang to mind while I was walking home from the bus stop. Hour of the wolf was something that was used as a minor plot device in Babylon 5 and it worked really well into what I was composing in my head as I walked. Written the 30th March 2001. (Readers: you have to suspend disbelief for a minute and assume that Obi and Qui are well aware of the presence of Russia. (G)

Its dark outside and I can hear you breathing.

I lie awake next to you, wrapped up in your arms, feeling your rhythmic breathing against my skin. The sound of your heart beating is the gentle accompaniment to the sounds outside.

It is all and more than I could have ever wished for.

The noise of the traffic outside provides a counterpart to the sounds of you sleeping. I turn slightly so that I face you and can watch you sleep. It is said that while a person sleeps, their true face emerges and to the one who watches, the truth of the sleeper's soul is revealed. In your sleep, you are calm, peaceful. The ravages of the day are removed, and you are as I know you to be----a beautiful, kind and gentle individual, who hides their true self behind a facade of humor, dark wit, and barely hidden violence.

All that is a lie.

The darkness makes midnight of your hair. The midnight of your hair that is reflected in my eyes as I look at you. I have to stop, turn away now before it completely overwhelms me and I lose myself in this vision of you.

Shadows of you that are bathed not by moonlight, but by false street light, streaming in through the cracks between the grimy blanket covering the window and the window itself. I watch the rise and fall of your throat as you breathe calmly, deeply, evenly.

If only everything were so simple.

I turn away and look at the cracked and dirty ceiling. The patterns of light and shadow on the surface above me turn it from cracked and dirty, to a thing of beauty. Everything is revealed in its true form in the dark.

I look over your shoulder to the bright red light of the LED illumination of the clock. It is 2am. The Hour of the Wolf.

The Russians have a theory. The Hour of the Wolf is that time between midnight and 4 am when you cannot sleep. The Russians believe that if you take one large gulp of vodka before going to sleep, this will keep the wolf away and you can sleep. Taking a further three sips of vodka will ensure that should the wolf have any cubs, they too will be kept away.

I am living in the Hour of the Wolf for the third day in a row.

Only this time, I am watching you as I think and listen to the noise outside the room.

Flickers of artificial light trace patterns over your skin. The light turns soft, pale creamy flesh into a veritable ocean of gold and black, something precious and to be treasured. I sigh.

You tighten your arms around me and nestle closer, burrowing your face into my hair. I feel you smile in your sleep, the weight of your face against my hair and my neck shifting as the muscles in your cheeks shift as you smile. You murmur my name and I smile. It is one moment of perfect beauty.

It is too much; I get up and quietly leave the room.

As I reach the door you sit up, awake.

"Is everything all right?"

"Everything's fine. Go back to sleep" I whisper, and you lie down again, reassured.

Life teaches cruel and hard lessons. We are made or broken by how we learn or ignore those lessons. I have been life's most astute student. All that is wrenched away from me and turned inside out. The cynic within and without is filled with wonder and astonishment at this early hour revelation.

I look out of the window, unseeing, as the wind blows the trees outside, making the light flicker and fracture, creating new patterns around my surroundings. It doesn't mean anything. All that means anything---here and now---is you.

I return to the room after taking some time to compose myself. The depth of the moment, the beauty of your displayed soul as you sleep has overcome me. I never knew, never knew what was contained within you. I never knew how much I wanted to believe in the beauty that I had forgotten, lost and ignored.

Lying down next to you again, you return your arms around me and hold me tight.

"Okay?"

You ask me and I smile.

"I'm good."

"Good."

Who would know what a few phrases and the arms of someone in your darkest moments could do to you. It never has before. What makes this so different? What makes this more than it has ever been with anyone else ever, at any time in the past?

We are connected by the sounds of the outside world, by the feel of each other's skin as we lie in the dark. The scent of your skin fills my nostrils. It is comforting, distinctively you and unique. If all my senses were destroyed except my sense of smell, I could find you on a dark night in the middle of a storm. The beating of our hearts is synchronised, the breathing slow and even, for you, content and relaxed in sleep, for me, content in my place at this time.

For now, it is more than enough. It is the eye of the hurricane; the calm before the storm. Tomorrow is another day, and we will put on the masks we need to wear in order to survive in the grand game of life.

The Hour of the Wolf provides true seekers with visions of the future, the present and the past. All that was, that is, that ever will be is brought into focus and perspective.

No wonder the Russians drink before sleep. It is a frightening thing to face.

In your arms, I face it openly and look towards a better future for myself, for us all.

The universe has given me a gift, you have given me a gift.

One moment of perfect truth and beauty; in the dark.