From:             N.C.T.Weiland@ub.rug.nl
Date sent:        Thu, 1 Jan 1998 15:53:02 +0000
Subject:          Unfinished Affairs II: Laying the Groundwork


Title: Unfinished Affairs II: Laying the Groundwork
Author: zephirine
Spoilers: None
Rating: PG-13 (adultery)
Keywords: Pre X-Files, Mrs. Mulder/CSM
Classification: V, SAR
Summary: CSM pays a visit to the Mulder summer house.

Please forward to ATXC and archive at Gossamer. Anywhere 
else, please let me know.



This is the second vignette in a series about the events
leading up to and surrounding the abduction of Samantha.
The first one is "Kicking the Habit". Although they take
place in the same universe, these vignettes can very well
be read on their own.

Disclaimer:
The characters and situations of the television program
"The X Files" are the creations and property of Chris
Carter, Fox Broadcasting, and Ten-Thirteen Productions,
and have been used without permission. No copyright
infringement is intended.

Thank you again, Mishka, for your invaluable comments and
for making this a better story.

Feedback very much welcomed at:
zephirine@geocities.com, or just hit the reply button.
Thanks very much. :-)

-----------------------------
Unfinished Affairs II: Laying the Groundwork

She is so beautiful.
And he is such an asshole.

He asks me again and again to go to the summer house
to tell her he loves her. Who does he think I am?
His errand boy? His messenger of love? I know how
hard it is to leave the project for even the shortest
period of time now that it's in such a critical stage,
but he is practically begging for it to happen. Leaving
a beautiful young woman alone for such a prolonged
period of time is giving the devil a foothold.

I never claimed to be a saint.

     ***

I stand in the doorway to the kitchen and watch
her cook. The light falling in from the window surrounds
her with a transparent glow. Fox is tugging at her skirt.

"I want a cookie, mommy."

She puts her spoon down, gently disengages his hands
from her apron and lifts him, turning towards me with
a smile: half apology, half pride.

"If he got the chance, he'd eat nothing but cookies and
fast food. Wouldn't you, Fox darling?" She kisses his
hair and puts him down again. Lightly pushes him in
my direction.

"Maybe Uncle Sam wants to see your new toys, Fox."

A look, silently asking me to temporarily relieve
her of her sweet burden so she can finish dinner.
The give and take of family life which I've only recently
started to learn. Fox paddles over in my direction
and grabs my hand, biscuit forgotten.

"Come on, Uncle Sam, I'm going to play with my new red
car, and you can play with the blue one."

I am rewarded with smiles as I let myself be tugged
out of the kitchen.


After dinner we take a leisurely stroll on the beach.
We look every bit the proverbial happy couple as we
both smile fondly at Fox's antics. He shows us every
shell he finds and shrieks as small waves lap at his
bare feet. Our fingers occasionally brush against
each other. At least, it looks like that from the 
outside. For me there is nothing accidental about 
the act. It is my way of testing the waters, see if 
she is really as interested in me as I expect her 
to be by now. She does not retract her hand when I 
finally slip my fingers around hers.


Fox is asleep. My body aches for a cigarette
as I sit in the chair across from her. She hates smoke;
affects her sense of smell, she says. I agree with
her that it's a filthy habit. I promise her I'll try
to quit. Her cheeks are rosy from the wine and the
outdoor exertion. She is so beautiful.

"It's getting late, time to go home," I say as I stand
up and stretch to my full height. All that family
cooking has made me complacent, lazy. Her gaze follows
my movements and, a bit to my surprise, I realize
this is the night. The groundwork I've been laying
this summer will finally result in the monument of
her seduction. Instead of going home, spending the
night at my typewriter, I will be making love to my
best friend's wife. A shudder of guilty anticipation
runs through me, instantly bringing me to full arousal.
Still I hesitate to take the final step.

Do I love her?
I don't think the question is valid. Love is not an
emotion I give myself the luxury of experiencing.
In a sense I think I do care for her. She represents
some common sense in a world long gone mad. An
anchor to reality that even now I hesitate to raise 
for fear of drifting yet further away into this ocean 
of evil and insanity. And I will be taking her along 
on my infamous journey.

Is it the same for Bill? I doubt it. Otherwise he
would be with her more often. I think Bill's anchor
is as liquid as the dirty sea in which we float. Drinking
is his way to deal with the insane things we encounter
on a daily basis.

She stands up and smiles a tight smile, alerted by
the sudden changes in me. I walk over to her and cup
her head with my hands.


The act itself is fairly ordinary. No earthshattering
sex. I didn't expect that either.

She shudders lightly at my touch now that her initial
desire has been quenched. I smile in recognition;
the mix of guilt and pleasure is hard on the soul.
But what comes hard will become most valued later
on, and I am sure that in time the combination will
become as addictive to her as it is to me.

For this affair is not yet over. It suits me too well.
It has all the advantages of a sound physical relationship
and none of its limitations. If I continue she will
tell no one about it. She has crossed the boundaries
of decent behavior. Who wants to listen? Her husband?
Friends? She is an adulteress, guilty by default and 
if she speaks she will lose her child. And should 
I decide to end the whole charade she still can't 
tell anyone about it. Either way I win. 

I am, after all, a practical man. 

And yet, as I softly kiss her hair and gather her 
in my arms once again, the thought crosses my mind 
that, by unscrupulously seducing her, I probably have 
squandered my final chance of reaching the shores 
of humanity.


A soft moan from the other bedroom; an echo from her
mouth. She frees herself from my embrace to hurry
to her waking child. I watch her putting on her bathrobe,
her bare back turned towards me. I reach for the cigarettes
on the nightstand.

She is so beautiful.
And I am such an asshole.

--- End ---

comments welcomed at: zephirine@geocities.com