From: "Kristel S. Oxley-Johns" Date: Thu, 7 Sep 2000 10:41:15 -0700 Subject: "Paths of Sorrow" by Kristel S. Oxley-Johns Source: direct PATHS OF SORROW Kristel S. Oxley-Johns Kjohns@chaos.x-philes.com Rating: PG-13 Classification: VR Archive: Yes. (redistribute with permission only) Spoilers: Anything through "Requiem" is fair game Keywords: Mulder/Scully Romance Summary: Mulder's mid-"Requiem" 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 it at my web-site: http://www.geocities.com/kristeljohns/ 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 SORROW Four twenty-seven A.M. In less than five hours, I'll be on an airplane headed an entire continent away from you. One hour will be spent at the airport, arriving early and checking in. Another hour will be spent getting to the airport in morning traffic. A third hour will be spent showering and eating breakfast, gathering the miscellany required for my journey. That leaves me less than two hours to hold you as I do at this moment, the softness of the satin pajama top you wear surpassed only by that of your skin as I caress your face. Less than two hours to indulge myself in the wonder of you as you slumber unaware beside me. *You terrify me sometimes, Scully...* Do you know, can you possibly comprehend, how deeply I meant those words when I whispered them to you that night in the mountains? I don't think you quite understood them at the time, but perhaps you have come to since then. After all--you consented to stay behind. That night in the mountains I relented to you returning to Washington with me, even with the certain knowledge that someone was trying to kill you. I knew, despite the odds, I stood a chance of protecting you from such a mortal threat. I don't know that I have a chance at protecting you from what's lurking in that forest in Oregon. And so, paradoxically, while I would allow you to face down a speeding bullet, I refuse to even consider allowing you near one possibly non-existent UFO. I'm a selfish man, Scully, with my own best interests at heart. If you died, I could bury you, and soon thereafter would, by whatever means should present the opportunity, join you in the afterlife. My pain would be terrible, but ultimately finite. If you were taken again though, I would have to search for you, and go on searching for you, as long as it took. Forever, if necessary. There would be no end to my suffering. How twisted is that logic? And so instead, I will be going without you, bearing only the talisman of your faith, knowing that in doing so, I run the risk of doing to you what I am too cowardly to contemplate enduring myself. I think as long as I wear this necklace, I will come home to you. This cross always finds its way back to you. And if for some reason I cannot return, I know that you are strong enough to do what I couldn't. You could carry on. You could mourn and move on with your life, achieving the normalcy you'll never find with me. You have family and friends left to live for. I have nothing but you. It has to end sometime, Scully. If I can give you one gift, one chance at finding something you lost because you loved me, then I have to do it. You deserve that, for everything you've given me over the years. It's fitting, in a way, that this charm I wear should be a cross. I'm just self-involved enough to feel like a martyr at this moment. I couldn't care less about the salvation of mankind, though. It's you I must save, you I must protect. You, who represents to me every wonder of the world. You, whose courage and strength I can only admire as an unworthy spectator. You, whose kindness and generosity are only exceeded by the beauty and goodness of your soul and your passion for what is right and just and true. You have so much more to do, so much more to give, not to me, but to the world. It would be selfish of me to remain and keep you to myself, where there is so much more you can accomplish. And so I will offer myself in your place, that you might remain and fulfill the destiny you deserve. I lay my face against the softness of your hair, breathing in the essence of you. If I never again saw you or touched you or heard you, the scent of you would haunt me to eternity. I have less than two hours to absorb that fragrance into every fiber of my being. And as I inhale, a tear slips from my eye into your hair. I don't want to leave you. I sense you awakening long before you actually stir, and hate the idea that I have disturbed your sleep when you've felt so unwell lately. I have to compose myself quickly, because even in the dark of night, you can see right through me. I can't let you see this. I can't let you know what I know might happen to me in that forest tomorrow. You'll never allow me to go. You're not interested in talking, though. Perhaps some of my fear, my desperation, my unhappiness has communicated itself to you on a level neither of us is consciously aware of. Perhaps somewhere deep inside, you too know that this may be the final time we will be together, the very last night I will hold you in a relationship that has known too few such nights, where such revelation came to us far too late. Without a word, you take my hand and slide it inside your pajama top, placing it on your breast. I try to protest that you haven't felt well, that you need your rest, but you won't be denied. You turn to me, your eyes glistening in the dim light from outside like dark diamonds, and whisper a plea that I am powerless to deny. And so I take you to me and lose myself in the wonder of you, driven by an imperative born of a despair I can never share with you. As I feel your cross dangling against my throat, I realize that I have lied to us both all these years. For all my professed disbelief in the God you worship, I am firmly convinced of His miracles. Belatedly, I am aware that I have been witness to one miracle in all these years, one that I never acknowledged as such until this moment of beauty and sorrow. That miracle has been you and the salvation you brought me. Perhaps if God is kind, the solitary path I must now tread will lead me back to you. THE END