From: ephemeral@ephemeralfic.org
Date: 20 Aug 2002 03:33:49 -0000
Subject: Echo (a response to "Undelivered Mail") by Ana Hawkman
Source: direct

Reply To: anahawkman@hotmail.com


Author: Ana Hawkman
Title: Echo
Rating: G (and no, it doesn't suck.)
Disclaimer: The characters of Mulder and Scully as well as
the reference to events taking place during the series
(Episode: TrustNo1) are the property of FOX and 1013
productions.
Category: V, MSR, mush
Feedback: anahawkman@hotmail.com
Note: Thanks AGAIN to Meggers for a great, fast beta!



IMPORTANT NOTE:
This letter is in response to Seulement Moi's posting
earlier this week, "Unanswered Mail." You might want to read
it first since it gives this letter-- this story-- context.
I give credit to her for resurrecting my lazy-ass muse.



Mulder,

I haven't heard from you in weeks and I'm beginning to get
worried.  Please respond, even if you only send a sentence
or two; it will quell my worst fears-- those which are
beginning to haunt my sleep and the vacant blotches of my
conscious thought. 

I worry about everything there is to worry about. Are you
eating enough? Are you eating well? Where are you sleeping?
Are you warm enough at night? Who washes your clothes? Who
quiets you back to sleep after a nightmare? Part of me knows
that no one does, but my own insecurities suggest that
you've moved on hence the gap in contact. 

The other night, William began making the "da" sound and I
couldn't help but cry. You're missing so much, Mulder, and I
don't mean that in an accusatory light.  I wish you were
here to watch your son grow.  He looks more and more like
you as time passes and I can't help but pray he turns out to
be the kind of man his father is. 

I want you to know that I remain faithful to you.  As I type
these words they reek of adolescent melodrama, but I can't
think of any other way to say it. I have never been good
with words and I have never been good at expressing emotion
and I apologize because I know you thrive on any small
expression of love. No one hits on me anyway when I am
carrying an infant, which I consider to be a good thing; I
only wish it were so because I am carrying an infant and
accompanied by your sure, calm presence. I feel as if a part
of me is missing. I feel weaker, somehow, knowing that you
are gone, and I can't begin to express the despair I felt,
those first weeks after that train passed the platform
without pause. I had planned on that visit as a breath of
air, a rise to the surface before disappearing again.

I want you to know that *I blame nothing on you.*

I think the loneliest time is right before I go to sleep
because now, having known the safety of your presence, I
crave it. Our constantly active thoughts seem to cancel each
other out and I have to tell you that the best rest I've
ever had took place in your arms. Those mornings when I woke
up with my cheek against the smooth, strong warmth of your
back were the best mornings of my life. I had-- have-- never
felt so loved. 

Come home. I know you will at your first (safe) convenience.
Yes, you can consider this a love letter and please don't
laugh at me because it hurts almost more than I can bear. I
need you. I finally confess that I am weaker alone. 

I love you more than you can even fathom. It is so strong
that there are moments when I am unsure of what to do with
myself. You are my best friend, my passion, my guardian and
my guiding light.

Dana (always your Scully.)



________________________________________
finis. anahawkman@hotmail.com