From: ephemeral@ephemeralfic.org Date: 22 Nov 2001 04:15:02 -0000 Subject: The Truth Is by moc818 Source: direct Reply To: moc818@yahoo.com Title: The Truth Is Author: moc818 Email: moc818@yahoo.com This is my first. Let me know what you think. The truth is I. . . I . . . I love working with him. I'm never quite sure what will happen next. Well that's not quite right. You see, we have a game we play, Mulder and I. It's called FBI partners. There are rules to this game. Many were written before we even started playing. It took a while for us to work out the boundaries. It took months, maybe years, but now we know our limits and we follow the rules. It's fair play to test the limits. It's acceptable to stretch, push and try to expand the perimeter of acceptable behaviour. New rules have been added and altered when needed. Mulder's actually pretty clever when it comes to rule bending. But the most important rule, the one we never bend, is don't go out of bounds. The lines have been drawn, stay within your territory or game over, you lose. So although I don't know what kind of a curveballs life will throw, I do know that we will always be playing our game. Over the years it's gotten pretty elaborate, our game. There are the general rules, the office rules, the on the road rules. There are the trauma rules which covers both emotional and physical trauma. There's the unofficial 'Mulder and Scully at home' companion - a guide for all unorthodox non-work related situations. There's the official "I'm Fine" translation book. The truth is I need him We know the rules well, like an old pair of jeans or a familiar chair. The keep us together in the worst of times and force us apart during the best. When times are rough, when we are over worked, over tired or just beaten down, we let the rules take over, mindlessly following their proven formula. At times like those I can't remember why I'm playing or where we suck the end zone in our imaginary playing field. I wonder if there even is an end zone, if the game will ever end, if anyone will win. I feel trapped. Hopeless. And then we have a moment. And everything is okay again. Mulder and I have had lots of moments. A glance, a joke, a smile, a touch, a brief . . . connection. For a few seconds everything is okay. The world disappears and it's just us. We are in the end zone. We could be in the middle of Grand Central Station and it would feel like we were alone on an football field. Standing in the end zone. Maybe even sittng high up on the goal post. Blink and you'll miss it but if you can catch your self in a moment, it's magical. When we stop having moments or when we forget how, the days seem to melt colorlessly into each other. We've had bad times, terrible times - Losing my sister, his father, my father, his mother, my cancer. Our history is a laundry list of tragedy. But things were never as bad as they could be. As long as we had our moments. The very worst of times are when we are without. My abduction . . .his . . . What is the truth? Do I love him? Does it even matter? I love our moments. I love him. I pretend I am in love with him, sometimes. And most of the time I pretend that he is in love with me.. Sometimes I really believe that we are in love with each other. But being in love isn't part of the game. Rule one: FBI partners don't fall in love. Romantic love is out of bounds. We never go out of bounds. The truth is I need the game. I'm afraid to go out of bounds. Going out of bounds means quitting the game. I don't want . . . I don't think I can ever quit. What is there besides the game? A different game? A better one? Nothing at all? What is Mulder besides my partner . . . my partner in this game we play? I'm afraid everything we have, all we have is this . . .this thing we do. I'm afraid that he loves me and I don't love him. Or that I love him and he doesn't love me. I'm afraid that I only imagine our moments. I can't tell what's real with us. I'm afraid that nothing is. I'm afraid that there is nothing but the game. I'm afraid to know the truth. Sometimes I walk up to the edge and try to see what's beyond. What is out there . . . out of bounds? I can't really see it, but I know . . . The truth is.