From: ephemeral@ephemeralfic.org
Date: Tue, 11 Jul 2000 20:31:04 -0500
Subject: Completion by Teresa Garrison
Source: direct

Reply To: tazresa@msn.com


TITLE: Completion
AUTHOR: Teresa Garrison
RATING: PG
CLASSIFICATION: V
KEYWORDS: MSR, SA
SPOILERS: Pilot, Requiem, Closure, all things, Orison
DISCLAIMER: Nope. Not mine. CC, 1013, and Fox are 
The lucky ones.
FEEDBACK: Please! This is only my 
Second attempt, so anything you can suggest to improve
My writing would be appreciated. (but please, just
Constructive comments, no flames!) Send it to: tazresa@msn.com
ARCHIVE: If you want it, take it, just drop me a note 
To let me know where it's going.


I am alone. For the first time I don't welcome 
the feeling. All my life I've been comfortable by 
myself. Give me a book, some music, a nice 
comfortable place to relax, and I'm in heaven. I 
learned that books never ask for anything, and in 
return give you knowledge and a certain sense of 
escape, peace. Books never leave until you're 
ready for them to. Not like people. Moving around 
so much growing up, I found that the only person 
I could count on was myself. Ahab, Melissa, 
Charlie, and Bill all left at some point to go on 
with their own lives. So did I. But I was 
comfortable with depending only on myself. I had 
a few friends that came and went, but I always 
held back parts of myself, so it wouldn't be as 
painful when it finally came time to say goodbye. 

Then I met Mulder. From the beginning he worked 
his way into those places in me that no one had 
ever been allowed to see. I guess it was hard to 
keep my guard up all the time. We spent so much 
time together on cases, both on the road and off, 
that certain walls came down quickly. In Oregon 
on that first case, going to him in the hotel 
room so he could look at the bumps on my back 
seemed so natural that I didn't even think twice. 
My God, I had only known the man a few days, and 
all the rumors flying around the bureau had told 
me he wasn't right in the head, but I knew I 
could trust him. I knew he'd be a gentleman, that 
he would never do anything to hurt me.


As soon as I realized how easy it was for him to 
get inside my head, my heart, I started trying to 
build up my defenses. No one had gotten that 
close before. I didn't want to have to deal with 
him and his emotional baggage. I had a hard time 
understanding how he could believe so strongly 
that his sister had been taken by aliens. How he 
could believe in anything paranormal so easily. 
Don't get me wrong, I had always been an avid 
reader of ghost and horror stories, but that 
didn't mean I wanted to deal with that stuff 
first hand. So up went the first, and biggest 
wall. My cynicism. It didn't hurt that I was 
supposed to poke holes in his theories, debunk 
his work. And it wasn't easy. I've had to do a 
lot of studying over the years to try to add more 
facts into my arsenal of arguments. 

At first, arguing with him at every turn over the 
cases seemed to help keep the distance between 
us. I'm not sure exactly when that started to 
change. I started looking forward to our debates. 
His quick leaps of insight kept me on my toes. I 
found myself becoming a better investigator 
because of him. And I did the same for him. He's 
told me he finds that having to explain his 
theories keeps him on track.

Touchstone, one in five billion, a whole person, 
significant other, they all describe what we do 
for each other, what we are to each other. 
Completion. Make each other a better person. It's 
hard to put into words. We've protected each 
other, helped each other heal. Once we finally 
reached the point where we could put our own 
emotional demons to rest, we finally were able to 
cross that invisible line in the sand. We finally 
gave the final parts of ourselves into the 
other's keeping. And we created a miracle. I 
can't wait till I can tell him.

I know the night it happened. We had just wrapped 
up a particularly tiring case. I still had a few 
lab results that needed to come in on another 
case I was consulting on, so Mulder left work 
before me. I was looking forward to going home 
and collapsing as soon as I had finished the lab 
reports. I didn't know if I'd see Mulder again 
that night. We hadn't made any plans to get 
together after work, and I found myself a little 
disappointed. It would have been nice to just be 
able to hear his breathing as I drifted off to 
sleep. 

It was late when I finally made it home. I opened 
my apartment door to find that he had been there 
recently. A few strategically lit lamps gave out 
a soft and welcoming glow. My favorite 
instrumental CD was playing, a bath had been 
drawn for me complete with a waiting glass of 
wine. Mulder had started doing this shortly after 
he discovered that I was developing a fear of 
taking baths after that horrific night with 
Pfaster. Mulder knew how important my long baths 
were to me, my chance to relax and regroup when 
things had me stressed. He proceeded carefully, 
and succeeded in not only replacing my fears with 
good feelings and memories, but also in allowing 
us both to give in to the needs to pamper and be 
pampered. These baths have become my favorite 
times with Mulder. He'd frequently join me, and 
sometimes we'd just hold each other, talk, and 
just relax, more often it would lead to more 
physical activities. 

This night, however, seemed to be just for me. 
Mulder was nowhere to be found in the apartment, 
so I went back into the bedroom to change into a 
robe. Smiling at his thoughtfulness, even though 
I wished he had stayed, I climbed into the tub 
and let the water, music, and wine do it's work. 
I figured Mulder had known how tired I was and 
wanted me to get as much rest as I could. I don't 
think he's ever realized just how much better I 
sleep with his arms around me.

I finally climbed out, dried off, and slipped 
between the covers of my bed without bothering 
with pajamas. I just didn't have the energy. I 
quickly drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

I drifted into consciousness sometime later to 
the delicious feel of Mulder's hands and lips on 
my body. I opened my eyes to find that I had 
forgotten to turn off the lights in the 
apartment, and the soft glow turned his eyes into 
an endless pool of green and gold. I found that I 
couldn't tear my eyes away from his as he made 
slow, languorous love to me. All of our walls 
were down that night, and it was the most 
intimate experience I have ever had. We were 
truly one. I remember thinking as I drifted off 
to sleep in his arms, that if I had been able, we 
would have made a baby that night. Imagine my joy 
when I discovered we had.

The sudden sound of a door opening nearby jerks 
my head up, my eyes glued to the doorway of my 
bedroom. I hold my breath, thinking I'll see 
Mulder walk in the room. When minutes pass and no 
one comes in and I hear voices and movement from 
the apartment next door, the feeling of loss hits 
me again. The way it does every time the phone 
rings, a door opens, a car like his drives by, or 
when I walk into our office, expecting to see him 
sitting at his desk throwing pencils at the 
ceiling as he waits for me, and he's not there. I 
can't keep doing this to myself. To the baby. I 
have to stop. I don't want to stop looking for 
him, but I don't know where else to go. There's 
been no more word from Oregon, no other leads. 
Mulder was right, the abductees were being taken 
and they weren't being returned. No one's come 
back yet. It's been over four months. I hadn't 
even been gone this long. 

At the sound of another door opening, I 
automatically hold my breath. I force myself to 
let it out, to fight the urge to look up. It 
won't be him. It's a door somewhere else in the 
apartment complex, not mine. I have to face that 
he may never walk through my doors again. I have 
to pull myself together, so I can be there for 
our child. A tear, one of millions that have been 
shed since he disappeared, slides down my face. 
My hand freezes halfway to my cheek as I hear the 
low voice I've been wanting so badly to hear.

"Scully."