From: aslania@iname.com
Date: Tue, 6 Apr 1999 22:10:20 -0400 (EDT)
Subject: Story Submission: Swim

Title: Swim
Author: Kit
Size: 6K
Rating: PG
Category: MSR, UST
Spoilers: none
Keywords: MSR, UST
Summary: The ocean, a thunderstorm and skinny-dipping
Notes: My first 'published' effort. Be kind. Or not. Long as I hear
something.... 

There's something here, in this place. In the air, the sand, the water.
Something so thick I can taste it. A pleasant aftertaste. Unfamiliar.
Contentment.  This is not happiness. Happiness is too fleeting, too
insubstantial for this sense of...wonder, of calm, that permeates this
place.  A deep sigh and I can feel it, filling my lungs, my blood. The
tang of salt and rain in the air, the psuedo-warmth of the cooling night.
This is what I need.  There's a balcony to my left, and out of the corner
of my eye I see him. Lying inert on the small chase. He does not stir,
laying with his arm thrown over his eyes, blocking out the phantoms that
haunt his mind. Lightning flashes overhead, briefly illumin ating his
face. Picking out every plane and crevice and flooding him with almost
divine light. The kind that reflects in his eyes.  The thunder is not far
behind, rolling over the sea to smash against the buildings, causing them
to tremble in deserving terror. I jump despite myself, and I look to him
for reaction, hoping he did not see and hoping to see myself. He remains
still, and I
 grow concerned. I run, turning from the balcony and bolting to the door,
the ever so thin door, that separates us. I am afraid of intruding, but
even more so, however irrationally, of discovering him gone from the other
side. Waylaying my doubts, I step through and out to the balcony. With a
dramatic flare, the sky is ravaged by a clap of thunder and a warm rain
begins to spill down onto the world below. I wait for the rumbling to
subside before I make my presence known.  "Mulder?" My voice sounds small
to me, echoing against the hollows of my mind. He sits up suddenly,
averting his gaze. I am startled at first, though I am relieved that an
unnamed horror has not yet collected him. "Mulder."  He stands now and, I
think, approaches me, though he brushes past. I am invisible. Inside,
though now soaked to the bone, it is warmer. I make no move to further
enter his room from the outside world, feeling utterly like an intruder to
a sacred vault. I think now that he will speak, but he disappoints me and
merely opens the door and leaves. Wordlessly I follow, prepared for
anything but such impotence.  Outside, it pours. The rain is warm and soft
and the droplets are big and fat. It is a good rain, comfortable and
soothing in its steady drumming against the world. I cannot help but tilt
my head back, catching a few of the precious gems upon my tongue. T hey
taste foul, metallic and tangy with the salt of the sea and the smog of
the air. Mulder is ahead of me now, and again, as I always have and will
do, I follow. He walks with a purpose, heading straight out into the sea.
For a moment my stomach turns an d thoughts of his suicide flash through
my mind. They are stilled when I see that he is stripping. I hesitate and
turn, my back to him. Half out of a sense of decency and half because I
know he thinks himself alone. Despite myself I cannot help but consid er
the possibilities, though I easily stifle the thought, years of experience
lending its aid. I am unsure of what to do. I fear too much to leave him
to his own devices. I fear myself to stay and observe. In the end, I know
I! 
 can control myself.  I walk down the beach, having again lost sight of
him, though a passing flash of lightning picks him out and highlights him
with brilliant illumination. The strangeness of the situation occurs to me
as I see him dive into the water, his body fluid and bea utiful, at least
to my starved vision. I am outside in the pouring rain spying on my
skinny-dipping partner. I restrain a harsh laugh that would only have hurt
my throat. In an effort to regain myself, I walk to the edge of the sea,
letting the waves wash
 up and over my feet. The sea is warm too, almost as warm as the air. I
see Mulder, some yards away, swimming not out to sea, but along the shore.
I can see his body lighted in the water that is brighter than the sky. I
can see as he slows, tires and fin ally leaves the warmth of the water. He
walks towards the building, still unaware of my presence, as he is walking
away from me. Indulging myself I wade into the water, uncaring about my
clothes. I strip, my motions awkward an!  d slow in the water as it washes
against me. Free of all but my barest, I toss them up on to the beach and,
in a moment of paranoia scan the beach for a sign of life. Nothing
presents itself. Turning to face the sea, I close my eyes, drowning myself
in th e sensation of the water. My sleep starved body revels in the
soothing massage of the water, as my mind drains into nothing but
sensation, milking each one for all its worth. As the rain pours down upon
my face, I gradually lose sense of the difference be tween water and air.
My body assimilates them both as the same. Unwilling to risk losing my
footing, I inch my way back towards the beach until I am sitting on the
underwater sand, letting the water roll up and around me. Nature should
charge for this, I think to myself, carefully formulating the thought in
my mind as a complete sentence. It is merely a way to give my overworked
mind a respite from worries. Finally, the water grows cold to my skin. I
stand and gather up my clothes, heading for the hotel. I can see the
lights are off in Mulder's room, even the flicker of the TV has been
stilled and I smile, glad that he has finally fallen asleep. I enter my r
oom and I am struck by that strange sense of coming home that sometimes
happens when a long trip is done or at the end of a harrowing day at work.
Despite my travels, I am not often prone to such fits of emotion, and I
cannot help but attribute it to the whole bizarre essence of this night.
At that same moment, I realize that someone is in my room. In seconds I
see the course of events run through my mind like a cheesy Romance novel.
In less than that, I quelch it, knowing that can never be the way for us .
Ours is the hard way, the rough road. It makes the prize so much sweeter. 
"I saw you." he says, breaking the silence like a sledgehammer to a china
doll.  "Makes us even." I quip, trying to ease the mood. I cannot stand
such tension, though I relish it later, in retrospect. He says nothing in
reply, merely turning to look at me in the dim light of the outside. He is
clothed again, at least partially, a sem i-damp pair of jeans clinging to
his hips. I fight the urge to tilt my head and examine him like a side of
beef. His gaze is dark and impenetrable. I shiver, more from the cold than
anything else, as my skin turns to gooseflesh. Ever the knight in shining
 armor, he grabs a towel from the hook on the wall and walks over. I sense
that he is torn for a moment by indecision. The very same that I am every
moment of every day. Hand over the towel and quietly protect this
give-take stability we've established or , dry me off himself and very
abruptly take this to the next level.  He hands over the towel. 

****

End Note: I know I know, pointless drivel. However, I do plan on making
alternate endings, changes etc, depending on the sort of feedback I get. I
also want to incorporate it into a story but I need some inspiration
people! Write me! I beg of you! 

"What you have become is the price you paid to get what you used to want."