From: CMUnsworth@aol.com
Date: Mon, 8 Nov 1999 15:03:40 EST
Subject: Story submission - To Keep us going
Source: direct

To Keep Us Going   by Charlotte Unsworth
Rating: Heavy R
Summary: Two people turn to each other. 
Disclaimer: They're not mine. But my birthday's February 2nd,
and we all know when Christmas is. Gifts welcome any time. 
Feedback: Please, at CMUnsworth@aol.com . All 
comments/criticism masked nicely welcome.

Thanks to Mary, my beta reader from the Beta Reader's 
Circle. A round of applause please!
_____

I remember the first time clearly.  She showed 
up at my apartment late.  I'd heard what had happened; 
I was still in shock.  I could tell from her face that she 
was too but I still felt a faint flash of optimism that she 
had heard something, something to give us hope.  I let her 
in, and closed the door.  I didn't even think to ask how she 
knew where I lived. It didn't matter. 
____

"Have you heard anything..." I asked.

She shook her head, biting her lower lip to keep from crying. 

"He's gone. No one can find him, he's officially listed as 
missing...presumed dead." 

Her voice fades out as she speaks, and it's instinct to go to 
her, to wrap my arms around her and hold her.  We haven't known
each other that long, but it feels right that we should seek 
solace in each other, with the loss of my best friend and, I 
think, the man she is in love with.

She's shaking with sobs now, holding me tightly to her, 
trying to get some comfort from me even as my own tears 
fall.  It feels like we stand in the middle of my living 
room for an eternity, holding and crying. 

I pull back slightly, tipping her face up so I can see her.  
The sorrow in her eyes is overwhelming, that such emotion 
can be conveyed in one glance. 

"It'll be ok," I whisper, knowing even as I utter the words 
that it's ridiculous-how can it ever be ok?  She knows, and 
shakes her head. 

"No..." I don't let her finish.  Drawn to her, I kiss her, 
covering her lips with my own to stop her saying it.  Just 
gently, but she pulls me closer and kisses me harder, 
needing to feel someone close to her, that there's still 
someone she can turn to.  God knows, I need that too. 

We don't know what we're doing, I don't even realise we're 
moving until I feel the bed against the back of my legs.  
This isn't supposed to happen.

She pulls away, and I realise my shirt's gone, 
must be lying on the floor in the living room along with 
her blouse.  She's beautiful, even with tear stains down her 
face and that sadness in her eyes.  She shakes her head, 
placing one finger on my lips to silence me. 

"No, please, I don't want to hear it. Please."

There's a slight hitch in her voice at the end, and I 
understand. Then we're kissing again, and falling down to the 
bed. Somehow our clothes are off, in a pile by the side of the 
bed, and as I kiss her, working my way down her body, I can 
feel her beginning to cry again.  She's clutching at me, her 
hands grasping mine, and running across my back. Her skin 
is so soft, clean and pale. 

She breathes faster as I touch her breasts, and gasps as my 
hand finds her.  I kiss her mouth again as I touch her, 
skimming over her centre, circling her with a rhythm that 
makes her gasp again.  Slowly, one finger in and she arches 
against my hand, moaning.  Out, replaced with two and she's 
murmuring my name.  One more kiss, then I stop, making her 
open her eyes and look at me.  She gazes at me, then nods 
once. 

That's all the permission I need.  I'm kissing her again as 
I slide into her, feeling her wetness around me as I taste 
her sweetness mingled with the salt of her tears. 
____

There was no awkwardness the morning after, we both 
recognised it for what it was; two friends needing someone 
to hold them, to console them, make them realise that they 
were not alone.  She went back to her apartment, I went to 
my office.  Another friend had found some article in the 
paper, he took it to her.  A few days later, my best friend 
came home.  After that, she didn't come for a while.
_____

She reappeared on my doorstep nearly a year later.  She'd 
been in Allentown, discovering more about her abduction.  She
never told me, I learnt that later from Mulder.  And when
her sister's case was closed, opening old scars, she came. 
When they investigated the Temple of the Seven Stars, when she
met some guy in Pennsylvania, got that tattoo - which I have to 
say I like a lot - and Mulder was being such a bastard to 
her, when she feared she was dying and was afraid to tell 
anyone.  When she found her daughter, and has her taken away 
before she could get to know her.  And recently, more often, 
with the threat of Diana Fowley her visits are more 
frequent, a sign of her insecurity.

I go to her too, admittedly not as often, but occasionally. 
It's not even as though we talk.  We do a little, when we 
reach this stage I suppose it's inevitable though I've 
never been in this situation before.  The only time we 
really talked was when she thought she was dying. 

We lay in bed, still holding each other, and I felt her 
shaking.  Even through everything, she hadn't cried since that
first time. 

"What's wrong?" I'd never asked her before, never questioned 
why she was with me. I'd usually learned about it afterwards, 
when her pain reflected off Mulder.  
____

"Did he tell you about Betts?" I just nodded.
"He said I had something he needed. I keep having these 
nosebleeds...the only thing he needed was cancer."  Her hand 
goes to her mouth, and I can see the fear in her eyes. I reach
out to her.

"Have you been to the hospital?"  Silence is her reply.  "You 
have to.  You can't go on not knowing."

"And if...?"

"Then...there's treatment, there's things that can be done. But
you have to find out.  You know this.  You're a doctor." She 
gazed at me, and tears began to softly fall. She admits 
something to me, I doubt she's ever told Mulder.

"I'm so afraid." She takes a breath, shaking as she gives in 
to her feelings. 
"I don't want to die". The last is almost lost, muffled by her
tears and my body as I hold her again.

"Shh.  You can't die." I remind her. "Mulder won't let you."

She looks up and I see a faint smile through her tears.
____

We've never mentioned what happens between us, not even to 
each other and certainly not to Mulder.  I don't know if she 
realises how much he loves her, but I do and he would never 
understand.  I doubt he'd be able to grasp what there is 
between us.  It's not love.  We both know it's nothing of the 
sort.  It's barely even lust, although she is very 
attractive and I look enough like Mulder to attract her. 

We both love other people.  He wouldn't understand that if 
she could have him, she would, and that she doesn't either 
because she doesn't know he loves her, or because it's 
complicated with them being partners.  Whatever the reason, 
and I don't intend to ask, she comes to me.  I think it's 
because I'm simple, easy and uncomplicated to be with.  When 
Mulder's being a bastard I'm there, and she doesn't have to 
explain. 

I know it won't last.  It wouldn't be any good if it did. 
Eventually she'll find some other man, or work out her 
problems with Mulder, or I'll find someone, maybe my Susanne.  
But until then, we'll go on seeking comfort in each other.  
Because we need someone, and right now, what we have is enough
to keep us going.