From: "Lynn K. Ballantine" Date: Sat, 05 May 2001 18:45:43 -0400 Subject: Soliloquy by Lynn K. Ballantine Source: direct Title: Soliloquy Author: Lynn K. Ballantine Rating: G Classification: Vignette There is tension in the car. The silence is deafening. She tries to focus on her driving, tries to ignore him, to pretend he isn't there, or at least to make believe he's not watching her. The silence becomes unbearable for her. It allows too many thoughts. Thoughts she doesn't want to have. She has to speak or go mad. The words don't come easily. "Why are you looking at me like that?" says she. "Like what?" "Like something that just crawled over your foot." "I'm not" says he, looking away. "You look like you hate me" He doesn't respond. "Do you?" "Do I what?" "Hate me" "No" "Why not?" "Should I?" It's her turn to not respond. Silence again. Painful, intimidating silence. There are things that can no longer go unsaid. Regardless of the cost, things must be said. The silence cannot be allowed to continue. They will smother in the silence. An invisible hand reaches into her heart, tearing the words from her, tossing them out to the air. "You've never asked...." She says, glancing at his profile, "...not once. Because you don't want to know." He looks away, out the window, seeing nothing. He knows that these things will be said. Words, like bullets, that he cannot escape. His mind screams out for her to stop. Stop before it's too late. Before the words have been spoken, deadly projectiles going straight to his heart. She can hurt him with her words. She can kill him with her words. Or she can save him but he doesn't think she will. "All the years we've been together, we've never really talked about us. About how we feel." She knows he is listening and that he will not reply. Things have to be said. He knows that and he will let her say them. "That night that I found myself in your bed I don't know what drove me to do that, except that I needed to understand. I felt that I was at a turning point in my life. I needed to know if I had taken the right path. I needed to know where the other path would lead." Without turning away from the road, she can feel him looking at her. "And you didn't like what you saw there" quietly, almost a whisper. Now she looks at him. What she sees in his eyes hurts her. "You believe that, don't you?" Expecting no reply, she continues "That's my fault, too." A deep shuddering breath and she prepares to open herself to him. She has to. It's time. "Making love to you was the most exquisite, the most wonderful experience I have ever had. I would have given up everything I have, everything I am, everything I will ever have or ever be, to be able to stay like that forever. I wanted to crawl under your skin and become part of your body. I would have been happy to die then and spend eternity in your arms. I was afraid. Afraid I would lose myself in you. Afraid that I would become a shell, an echo of your ego." "The small part of me that was still rational told me to get out, to save myself. God help me, I listened to that part of me. The hardest thing I have ever had to do was get out of your bed that night." He looks at her, now, not fully understanding, afraid to believe what he hears. He doesn't speak, can't trust his voice, knows she will continue. "What I feel for you is too big, too powerful. I'm afraid I can't carry it, that if I drop it, it will shatter and then I will have nothing. I will be nothing." "The next day, you didn't mention it. You didn't ask. I was afraid it didn't matter to you. I didn't want to hurt you, so I allowed myself to believe that it didn't matter that it was what you wanted. I was afraid of the truth." "Now you sit here, wondering, wanting to know who is the father of my baby. But you won't ask. Because you are afraid of the truth, too." A stop sign now. She turns toward him and looks at him for a long time. She sees the truth in his eyes. She sees the pain. More than anything, she wants to take away the pain. She can't. It must be said. She drives on. "You think there's someone else. You don't want to know. There is no one else. There never has been. There never will be. We have to face the truth now all of the truths. There's another life at stake here, another future at stake." She stops speaking then. The words are heavy, falling from her lips. Like diamond tears, the words pile up around them, echoing through time and space. They can not be erased, can not be taken back. "We are going to have a baby, Mulder. You and I. I don't know how it was possible. You promised me a miracle. I don't want to look any further than that. I love you. Only you. Always you. And I'm afraid." She stops talking then but he knows she isn't finished. That she will go on. "I'm afraid that I will lose myself, that who I am will cease to be. I'm afraid that the person you love will disappear and you will no longer love who I will become. You have touched my soul, Mulder, and I will never be the same. If I let it continue, you will possess my soul. Everything that is me will become part of you. It can't be any other way." "I have no life without you. If you stop loving me, I will have nothing. And you will stop loving me because I will stop being me." The car is stopped now. They are reluctant to leave its confines. Somehow, all that they have, all that they are, is here, now. This must be finished. She turns to him, sees the pain, the fear. And she hurts. She hurts for him, and for herself. She has to finish this. "It can't be, Mulder. It was never meant to be. What we have is too important to risk losing. It can't ever be. We can't ever be." He knows she is done. He can think of only one thing to say, "I love you, Scully." "I know, Mulder."