From: "Kristel S. Oxley-Johns" Date: Thu, 7 Sep 2000 10:40:00 -0700 Subject: "Paths of Faith" by Kristel S. Oxley-Johns Source: direct PATHS OF FAITH Kristel S. Oxley-Johns Kjohns@chaos.x-philes.com Rating: PG Classification: VR Archive: Yes. (redistribute with permission only) Spoilers: Anything through "all things" is fair game Keywords: Mulder/Scully Romance Summary: Scully's post-"all things" musings in light of the events that transpired in my earlier fanfic "Hegira." It's not going to make much sense to you unless you've read "Hegira." You can find "Hegira" at my web-site: http://www.geocities.com/kristeljohns/ This vignette is the first of a whole series of stories and vignettes I am planning to write over the summer, all set in the "Hegira" universe. Some will simply be getting into the characters' heads like this one, others will be exploring the Mulder/Scully relationship in a more NC-17 manner. DISCLAIMER: Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, et al, and The X-Files do not belong to me. They are the property of Chris Carter, Ten-Thirteen Productions, and Fox Broadcasting. No infringement is intended, no money is being made, sic your lawyers on someone else. PATHS OF FAITH I awaken, wrapped in a cocoon of warmth, to the sound of rushing water. My surroundings are as familiar to me now as those of my own home...the glow of the aquarium, the comforting darkness of your apartment, in such contrast with the airy lightness of my own, the scent of leather...the essence of you. I must have dozed. It can't have been for long; the leather of the sofa beside me where you sat is still warm from your body. The water I hear will be you, washing your face and brushing your teeth before retiring for the night. I feel the scratchy wool of the Indian-print blanket covering me and am, as ever, awestruck by the tender sweetness that pervades even the tiniest gestures you make toward me. Three weeks now have we been lovers. Three weeks since the entire world changed in a dingy cabin in the mountains on the North Carolina/Tennessee border. It's only one, and quite possibly the least, of the changes we have been through in the intervening weeks. My mind tries to shy away from the other changes we have faced recently, but I can't. I won't. If my turmoil of the last three days has signified anything, it is that I need to face what has happened to us and come to terms with it. Comforting you in the wake of your sister's death has been something of a salvation for me. It has meant that I could sublimate my own culpability in the event. If I could focus my energies and my emotions on you, then I wouldn't have to deal with me. But I can't do that anymore, not if I want to continue being the person you need me to be. Your partner, your lover, your comforter, your friend... Who exactly am I these days? Do I even know anymore? We haven't made love in the two weeks since your sister was killed. It has been a time for emotional closeness, rather than physical. And all platitudes about a proper period of mourning aside, I don't think either of us has felt comfortable or able to take that step when things are so emotionally raw. We waited seven years for the right moment to become lovers, seven years for a time when we brought no emotional baggage to our bed together. What we must do now is find a way back to that point, back to the place where what we bring to our bed is only ourselves, and we can leave everything else outside the door. Perhaps that is why, two days ago, I felt myself unravel, go a little crazy, lash out at you. My scientific mind doesn't handle very well the discrepancies between what I know *should* happen, and what actually *does* happen. I should be able to welcome you into my arms and my body without this crushing grief, born of a guilt you yourself long since absolved me of. But that hasn't happened. *When we hold on to shame and guilt and fear, it creates imbalance, makes us forget who we are...* Was it only yesterday Colleen spoke those words to me? *It's not your fault...* Those were the words you whispered to me in the height of our anguish, in what might have been the darkest of all the very dark hours we have faced together. And though I have always trusted you, always had faith that you would tell me the truth...I didn't believe you. I have gone on not believing you, and those words you whispered to me, in the two weeks since Samantha died. That she took my bullet, that her life was ended in the place of mine, has gradually consumed me until it left me nothing more to give to you. Small wonder I ran. Small wonder that the moment something familiar and comfortable appeared to me, I gravitated toward it. I haven't loved Daniel for nine years, perhaps never loved him beyond a transient infatuation, and in recent years, my love for you has filled my heart to the point where even the memory of past love has had little room to exist. But he was safe, and though I know I am not innocent of causing grief in the lives of Daniel and his family, at least there...no one had died for me. He provided a retreat while I worked through my crisis of faith. *Maybe I want the life I didn't choose...* Amazing the things we say in the midst of pain. Do I regret being with you? God, no. Not for a single instant of a single day. Do I regret loving you? How can one regret what is inevitable, what is nothing more than the natural course of things? I could as soon regret breathing. But perhaps, for one insane moment, I regretted not that you have been a part of my life, but that I have been a part of yours. Perhaps if I had chosen a different path, Samantha might still be alive. The thought is irrational, and I find myself overcome with impatience every time it rears up in my mind, but it is as undeniable as it is illogical. If I had chosen to stay in medicine, rather than enter the FBI, or chosen to request a transfer rather than work with you, I would never have been in that airport hangar two weeks ago with Samantha. I would never have been in a position where she felt compelled to push me out of the way as the world around us shattered with gunfire. But then I feel myself slide down the other side of this two-edged sword. For had I chosen a different path, the odds are high that you yourself would never have lived to see Samantha, to know her as you came to know her those few short, cherished days in the mountains. The number of places where your own path might have come to an abrupt and violent end is infinite. The horrific possibilities are incomprehensible. And so my faith faltered. My faith that what brought us together, what keeps us together, is ultimately what is for the best, not just for ourselves but for everyone around us. But that very same indefinable *something* is what also killed Samantha. How can I have faith in that? *Don't leave me...* I would as soon cut out my own heart. To leave would be tantamount to doing so, in any event. No matter what has happened, no matter what might or will happen, I trust in the rightness of being with you. And so I must have faith that all things happen for a reason, even when no amount of logic or reason can justify them to the fragile human heart. The water in the bathroom stops running and I stare expectantly at the door, waiting for it to open and for you to emerge, that I may look in your eyes and find my faith renewed and restored in the love I see there. Whatever paths we have trod that brought us to this point, whether by fate or by choice, ultimately it is that love which seals our destiny. Our paths lie together now, paved with honesty and trust and faith and forgiveness. You step into the room to check on me, to see if I am still asleep. Your eyes are doubtful, unsure of whether to awaken me to come to bed or allow me to rest where I am. But then you see I am awake, and we spend an eternity sharing the revelations that have been granted us in silent communion. You reach out your hand and I take it, feeling the warmth and strength and gentleness of your grasp. I rise to my feet and, with my hand tucked securely within yours, follow you into the future. THE END