From: Xspacecadet@aol.com
Date: Sat, 28 Dec 2002 22:04:57 EST
Subject: (no subject)
Source: direct

We haven't spoken in 3 days.

I'm not really sure why. I know she's not mad at me.  I can always
tell when Scully's mad. There's a distinction about her anger that is
unquestionable.  I just think that this time, neither of us is sure of
what to say. Nothing seems like it is enough and the greater this void
of silence becomes the less significant every word seems. At this
rate, I'm not sure we'll ever speak again.

I remember the last conversation we had. It was that first night in
that shoddy , one-night-stand hotel room in Roswell. We fell asleep
but then both woke up again later in the evening. Our eyes opened
almost simultaneously, as if we were summoned to consciousness by some
outside force, and we just lay there starring at one another. The
cheap fabric of the comforter was scratch ing my cheek and her hair
tickled my face. We talked about William. Neither of us cried.  In
retrospect, I think both of us simply found tears too trite. Finally,
whe n there was really nothing left to be said, she told me to "Sleep,
Mulder ", and so I did. That was the last time we talked.

So here we are now, confined to this sweltering cage of a car, driving
towards the horizon. The sun's half- hidden behind the red clay hills
in the distance and it's dying light is cascading a ray of warm orange
over the earth. I haven't actually taken time to look at the scenery
yet, but I 'm sure it's quite beautiful. Beautiful. That word's taken
on a hugel y different meaning in the past few months. I vaguely
remember a time when 'beauty' to me was just a soubriquet for
'distraction'. Beauty was only skin deep
 and in the dark everything looked the same, so anything that took
away the twinge was enough 'beauty' for me. How different your views
can become i n such a short time. My whole dictionary has morphed into
something completely different now and that word was the first
transformation. Beauty now is getting into a car and hurtling rapidly
away from everything you've ever believed in or known. Beauty now is
giving up the thing you love more unconditionally and wholeheartedly
than anything else in the world so that it may flourish.  Beauty is
killing yourself so that others may live.  Beauty is everything about
her, so if she doesn't want to talk I'm not going to make her. For
now, I'll just drive.

*****

I hadn't yet realized how much different she looks. We stopped at a
gas st ation a few hours ago and it almost took my break away when she
stepped out of the car. Obviously, I have notice d the different shade
and length of her hair but that's not what I'm talking about.
Something in her has changed. Her whole demeanor is something worlds
apart from what it once was. It's not worse, just different.

Her skin seems a little darker and the lines on her face are more
prominent. Her shoulders slouch a little at times and her eyes always
seem to be focused on the ground. She just looks...tired. Of course,
she has good reason to be and not hing about it turns me off at all, I
just wish I could help her. I wish I could say or do something that
would take everything I know she must be feeling right now and make it
disappear. I want to make it go away for her. I want to heal her.

I pay for the gas and we get back in the car. That's all we can do
now. It might be all we know how to do anymore. Once we start driving,
I see her glance at me from the corner of my eye.  I turn to face her
and my breath catches when I make eye contact with her for the first
time in over 7 2 hours. Those eyes are going to captivate me every day
for the rest of my l ife, I swear to God. That's one thing that has
definitely not changed about her. Those eyes of hers are still the
same shade of emerald-blue that they always were and I don't think
even the certainty of age could phase them. She smiles at me and I
know with all the conviction that I have left to give everything's
going to be okay.  I reach for her hand and she holds mine in both of
hers, stroking it with a gentleness that only she could know.  For the
first time in almost a week, I can relax.

*****

She spoke today. It's been 2 days since that time we had in the car
and she finally said something. We were sitting on the balcony of our
most recent hotel room, watching rain drops da nce across the surface
of the ocean. I can honestly say that it was one of the most
spiritual, relaxing ex periences of my life. She was sitting in one of
those white, plastic hotel chairs and I sat on the cement floor in
front of her with my head resting against her knee. She ran her
fingers through my hair and when a rain drop found it's way under our
overhang and onto my face, she'd whip it away with her thumb. Finally,
about 15 minutes before the sun had completely sunk into the sea, she
spoke.

"I love the beach." I smiled to myself. I knew when she finally spoke
ag ain it wasn't going to be in some momentous proverb that made the
heavens shake and my jaw drop to the floor. She had a simplicity
hidden beneath her brilliance that I marveled in. No one else could
ever be like her.

"Me too." She stroked my cheek with her knuckles and I allowed my eyes
t o slip closed as a soft wind swept softly over our bodies, ruffling
our hair. Surprisingly, she had more to say. I'll never get tired of
hearing her talk.

"My father loved it, too. He told me once 'Starbuck, don't you let the
elegance of the mountains fool you.  The ocean's where life began.
It'll keep you honest.  It'll tell you the truth'. I didn't really
understand what that meant at the time, but I think I get it now. " I
tilted my head back to see her face. She was staring out into the
distance. She was thinking about her father and I couldn't help but
wonder what Scully's childhood was li ke. I just know she was the
biggest daddy's girl on the planet and there was a time when I would
have blamed myself for her losing that innocence but those days are
long gone. Scully and I decided a long time ago that there would be no
more guilt or dwelling on the past between us. We wiped the slate
clean and I'm going to honor that.

"What are you thinking?" It was my turn to ask that question this
time. It's almost banal to think that she and I have had this very
same conversation twice in the past week, given the stereotypical
newlywed history behind it. We don't talk about feelings. I guess some
things change.

"Lot's of things...life...how to throw a curve ball." I rolled my head
back in her lap and we chuckled out loud together for the first time
in ove r a year. I forgot how great it felt to laugh with her. I
forgot how great it felt to do a lot of things with her until just
recently. I stood and turned to face her, offering her my hand to help
her to her feet. She walked over to the railing and gazed ou t over
the water, the cool icy blue pools of her eyes taking in the sapphire
waves.  I stopped behind her and rested my hands on either side of
hers and nuzzled my nose into her neck. I think she will always smell
good. Until I die, when I think of her, I'm going to thi nk of that
scent because it's the sweetest thing I've ever smelled.

"How do you want to spend the rest of your life, Mulder?" I'm not sure
how to answer that question.  That's like asking someone what the
meaning of life is. Leave it to Scully to ask all the hard questions.

"I don't know...doing whatever it is that needs to be done, I
suppose." That was a fairly dull answer, but I'm just thankful that
neither of us acknowledged what I know we were both thinking- the rest
of our lives might only be another 10 years.  I decided to add onto my
answer, just for conversation's sake.

"But however I spend it, I want it to be with you. I know that for
certain." I'm such a hopeless romantic and so tragically terrible at
it. I want to tell her everything I've ever felt for her. I want to
tell her that I would gladly take a bullet for her if the chance
arose. I'd go out at 3 am during the apocalypse on a bicycle just to
buy her a gallon of ice cream if that's what she really wanted. But
she knows all those things and since I would just mess it up if I
tried to tell her, there's really n o reason to say anything at all.
Nevertheless, she shifted her weight back a gainst me and turned to
plant a kiss right beside my mouth.

"You want to spend the rest of your life with me, huh?"  Soft
butterfly kisses against her neck. Her hair. So soft.

"Always."

"Well, you can start by spending the rest of the night with me inside.
It's cold out here."

I slid the rolling glass door shut and locked us inside the warmth of
the hotel room. By the time I turned around, she was already
discarding her clothes and climbing into bed. I almost felt like a
pervert watching her even though we just had sex less than a week ago.  
She had finished undressing and was standing underneath the only light
in the room, the artificial radiance bathing her with a warm glow and
illuminating her features. I assumed she was going to proceed with the
same routine as the past few nights, undressing and then climbing
straight into bed and falling immediately asleep. So she surpr ised me
when she turned and sauntered towards me with a sly little grin on her
face.  It amazes me how she can make me feel naked when I'm the only
one of us that's still fully clothed.

"Take off your clothes." Well, no room for negotiation there. I think
I set a new world record in divesting because those clothes were off
in just under 12 seconds.  She pulled me by my hips until the backs of
her knees hit the bed and we collapsed together amongst the sheets and
pillows. I wasn't sure if this was leading to actual sex or just some
playful cuddling, either of which would have been perfectly fine with
me. She pulled the covers up around us and burrowed herself beneath
me, running her nails over my back and through my hair. When she took
my face in her hands and kissed me, plunging her tongue into my mouth,
I knew I could never be without her again. She could not talk to me
for the rest of my life, but as long a she was here for me to touch
and kiss and live with...I think it would be okay.

"I missed this." I thought that was a little odd since this was not
the first time we had been together since our reunion, but she said it
with such a low, needy voice that it totally drained my mind of all
thought.  I missed this too. I missed us.

"I know." Before I could get the words out she had already taken me
into her hand and guided me to her.  We just lay that way for a second
or two, living and breathing in this momen t that we had lived a
thousand times. Within seconds, I shifted my hips forward and slid
inside her. Out of every moment in my entire life, this one felt the
most like coming home. Opening my front door after a week at Boy Scout
camp couldn't even begin to compare. We were each other's home now,
and it would be like that forever. There wa s no going back.

We found a rhythm and glorified in it. It might sound a little
arrogant, but we're really good at this. When you know and love
someone on every other possible level, mastery of the most primitive
is a piece of cake. We don't like to talk during sex and we've always
kind of made fun of those people in movies who do. You know, the ones
who pant sweet nothings in each other's ears at the moment of climax.
That's just not our style. Instead, I buried my face in her shoulder
and bit down. The last thing I heard or felt before my head started
spinning was her moaning my name and tightening all around me like a
fist. When it was over, I kissed away the sweat that had accumulated
on her forehead and rolled over so that she could fall asleep on top
of me. Her hand running up and down my chest and the scent of her hair
lulled me into the deepest sleep I had had in a while.

*****

It's been a month since we left home now. I still think about it from
time to time, wondering if my fish are still alive or if everything's
exactly as we left it. Sometimes I think ab out the nursery sitting
there all alone, that star mobile spinning slightly on a draft of cool
air. It's bizarre and a little sad to think that our old life is
sitting there, waiting for us to come back to it when we know we never
will. We never can. We know those people and those places we built
ourselves around for so many years will only be seen in our memories
from now on, and we know we'll probably still be wondering what became
of all of it years from now. I know I'll miss it and I'm certain
Scully will too. It's only natural to miss the things you're
comfortable with.  But I can sense us growing and I hope that someday
we'll be able to accept this new life that we've come to live.  All of
life is just one big coming home and, though we may never walk through
the door of that apartment again, I'd like to think that we'll find
home again someday.  Until then, we'll just live inside each other.