From: ephemeral@ephemeralfic.org Date: Tue, 29 Feb 2000 21:01:58 -0600 Subject: Tell Her You Love Her by Ned \'TG\' Life Source: direct Reply To: sevencities@aol.com Church of X Valentine's Day FanFic Challenge by Ned `TG' Life sevencities@aol.com Title: Tell Her You Love Her Rating: G Spoilers: None, Summary: Mulder spends an afternoon at the mall looking for a second chance. Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully belong to Chris Carter's 1013 Productions and Rupert Murdoch's 20th Century Film Corp. No profit is being made with this story on my part. "It's Valentine's Day. Tell her you love her," blared the banner strung over the entrance to the mall. Valentine's Day and she was leaving. How many other Valentine's Days had he let slip by? How many other chances to tell her again, to convince her that he loved her had he let slip by? And now it was too late. She was leaving. He tried to think back to the first time he met her, but the memory was too painful, too bittersweet. He didn't even try to think back to the last time. Had she ever loved him? They did have a relationship; that neither of them could deny. But was love ever a part of it? She had never said, "I love you." Maybe because she didn't. Or maybe because she didn't think it needed said. Maybe she thought the tender looks had said it. Maybe the way that she was always there for him had said it. Maybe the caring and compassion and understanding that she showed him had said it. The unwavering faith she had in him, maybe that had been her way of saying it. But now she was leaving. She had become as passionate about the X-Files as he had. But he knew she also had other dreams, other ambitions. And now, she had said, the time had come for her to find those dreams, follow those ambitions. There didn't seem to be any place in those dreams for him. People she had not yet met had a place in those dreams. Relationships not yet formed lived in those dreams and waited for her. She needed to follow the ambitions that were her own instead of the tattered and worn hand-me-downs from his collection of unfulfilled hopes. And so she was leaving. The Book Store. In the bookstore was a poster that read: "Top Ten Things to do for your Lover." #10 Sing to your lover, even if you sing off-key. What would be her reaction to an off-key serenade? He knew she would laugh, but her laughter would tell him that she found it endearing. But it was too late. It was too late to be endearing. How many other chances to be endearing had he let slip by? He picked up a book of Shakespeare's sonnets. "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate." And ... "Say that thou didst forsake me for some fault, and I will comment upon that offence." But she had not said for what fault. And so there were no second chances. The Jewelry Store. He looked at the diamonds displayed there. But no. Diamonds were not for her. Diamonds were too hard, too cold. She deserved a gem that matched her brilliance, her warmth. A gem that would dazzle her eyes as much as her eyes had dazzled him. He had never given her a ring. He had given her gifts before, on holidays, on her birthday. But they had been gifts that held subtle meanings. Oblique messages. He had never had the courage to give her the gift that needed no de-coding, no translating. The gem was not the exact shade of her eyes, but it had the same sparkle, the same fire. Indicating to the clerk his choice, he watched as the small box was wrapped. The box that contained the gem that spoke of second chances. Was it too late? The Record Store. He perused the racks of musical selections in search of another's voice to say the words he himself was now hesitant to say. A voice that would have a resonance of sincerity to match the sincerity that was inside him. He leaves empty-handed, knowing he can not ask another's voice to define his passion. He must, in his own voice, expose the feelings and emotions he has hidden for too long. The Fragrance Store. Scents competing with each other in an attempt to lure the patrons into believing they had found the perfect fragrance, the fragrance that defined the desire of their heart. And that this desired one would be touched by the presenter's perception of their nature. But no one fragrance could define her. She was at times studious and remote. She could be bold and sensual. At other times she was quiet and restrained. And she could be soft and delicate. There had been times when she had seemed so fragile, he had been apprehensive to hold her lest she shatter under his touch. No scent existed that could define the complexity of her nature. The Candy Store. He had heard chocolate referred to as a 'mouthful of pleasure, delight of gods.' An Aztec Indian legend claimed that chocolate had been brought from paradise. The selection was innumerable. Light and dark chocolates filled with confections that ranged in textures of creamy to solid and designed to please the palate. A sly attempt to seduce the chosen one and cull the favor of their emotions. "Sweets for my Sweet" read the sign. But the sweetness of the chocolate could not compare to the sweetness of her smile. He turned and walked away. The Mall Corridor. The young couple walked arm in arm down the corridor. The young man leaned over and whispered something into her ear. She smiled and briefly rested her head against his shoulder. They made it look so easy, as if the depths of your soul could be so casually revealed. He envied the confidence with which they entrusted to one another that unique emotion, which is the essence life. The Stationary Store. Rows of greeting cards anxiously waiting to be selected for that most sacred honor of declaring one's love. Each card confident that its message could cast the spell that would capture her heart. "You are the sun and the moon and the stars to me." "The sun cannot shine as brightly as your smile." "Take my hand, walk with me and make me complete." "You make my world, my life, my whole being, happy." Each card's message of love was pitifully inadequate to express what was in his heart. Absurd to think that mere words could convey the myriad of emotions that lay within him. Selecting a blank card, he takes from his pocket a pen with which he inscribes those three simple words that alone reveal the truth. But it's too late. Or is it ever too late to say, "I love you"? The Flower Store. Multi-colored bouquets of exotic flowers adorned with tiny bows of Chantilly lace filled the shelves. The floral arrangements were designed to entrance the senses in a bold attempt to prove the measure of devotion within. He makes his selection. A single rose. As vulnerable as his heart. Clutching his small tokens of affection, he walked out the mall exit. "It's Valentine's Day," the banner whispered after him. "Tell her you love her." Valentine's Day and she was leaving. "Tell her you love her," The words echoed in his head. "Tell her you love her." Before it's too late. The End