TITLE: "... and you"
AUTHOR: Kirsten Kerkhof * kirsten_xf@yahoo.com
CLASSIFICATION: MSR
KEYWORDS: V R
SPOILERS: Redux II
RATING: PG-13
DISCLAIMER: They aren't mine, as if someone would 
even think they were ... Still, wouldn't mind if 
they were ...
ARCHIVING: Anywhere as long as you let me know 
where it's gone and keep my name & e-mail addy 
attached. Than-X.
SUMMARY: Mulder knows Scully thinks he's asleep 
on her couch while she sits by his side.
NOTE: An old story ("You") rewritten - to tell 
the story from Mulder's point of view. If you'd 
like to read "You" but you can't find it, drop me 
a message and I'll be glad to send it to you.

XxXxX

You are gorgeous. It's by no means the first 
time I've been thinking this and God knows it 
won't be the last for it's the truth. And I'm 
quick at deducing the truth -- I've dedicated my 
life to it. And as long as I'm searching for the 
Truth I will entertain these thoughts which you 
unwittingly cause inside me. It's not bothering 
me. Right now you are wearing a very un-
characteristic soft summer skirt and a top with 
spaghetti straps. Your feet are bare and I'm 
treated to more skin than I ever get to see. You 
look soft and feminine and absolutely mind-
shatteringly beautiful.

You are the best friend I've got, the best 
and most beloved partner I could ever have. Your 
dedication to your job and to me goes way beyond 
the call of duty and because of that I'm prepared 
to do just the same. I daren't count the times 
you willingly put your career and future, your 
life on the line just to save my sorry ass, and 
then, when I was on the verge of going off the 
deep end, you dragged me back and showed me with 
a simple look that life, even in insanity or 
death, isn't worth living without you. But to 
accomplish that you've lost a lot. And it must 
hurt so much ...

You think I'm asleep right now and I think 
I'd like to keep it that way for now. I came to 
your apartment last night, after going for a jog 
to calm my mind. I wasn't sure whether you wanted 
to see me, I wasn't even sure you'd be at home, 
but I figured you'd have no problem in showing me 
the door if I'd be unwanted, so I took the risk. 
But I could stay, no problem. You let me take a 
shower -- I swear I didn't use your 'Rest 'n' 
Relaxation' showergel which I know you like so 
much -- and when I wanted to dress I accidentally 
dropped my sweater in the tub. Typical ... I know 
you keep a few of Bill's old sweaters in the 
cupboard in your bedroom and I was just about to 
ask whether I could borrow one when I saw the 
look in your eyes. And figured I could live 
without one. Well, it was warm enough anyway. So, 
we sat down on the couch and started talking. 
About the case at hand first, but very soon about 
more intimate things. I let you talk about your 
childhood -- oh, how that always makes me envy 
you -- and about your life before we met and then 
I told you more about myself. We had the best 
night I can remember we ever had and after a few 
hours, when the night and the laughter and the 
wine began to take their delightful toll, you 
went to bed. I settled down on the couch as I 
always do when I stay with you, but not before 
kissing you good-night.

You are an angel to me, one of God's chosen. 
I know this even with my knowledge of your flaws. 
Most of them are bred by society, on the inside 
they originally weren't there, but you can be so 
cold and hard, so serious and closed-off that I 
sometimes wonder whether there will ever be a man 
who will be able to bring out the sunshine that 
sometimes lights up your face. That sunshine 
which allows me to bask in the abundance of love 
and light that I know this life can hold, even 
though I have virtually no experience of that 
myself. Radiant blue eyes that hold the sunshine 
of life and you make my soul sing in rejoicement, 
letting it drink as much as it needs from this 
endless stream of love and hope.
	
You are Hope. My hope and the only hope I've 
ever had. I know you sometimes wonder what you 
bring to me and I know that you can be as 
uncertain about yourself as I can be, about 
yourself as a person, a friend, or even as a 
partner, but don't you see? You are the only 
source of hope I've got! Not overly keen on 
stirring up unwanted memories we don't talk about 
your cancer often, but I know. You never told me, 
but I could see and feel that, especially during 
those last terrifying days, you were ready to 
give up. I don't know how you made it back, but 
not much was needed to make you decide to give in 
to the alluring temptations of death. I would not 
have blamed you. I would have helped you, even if 
that would mean burying my heart along with 
yours. One phone call from you would have been 
enough to come to the hospital, unplug the 
machines that kept you here and let you die in my 
arms, knowing how deep my love for you really 
runs. To let you know at least a last little bit 
of love and beauty after the hell this cancer 
was. And I'd have let you go, feeling privileged 
to be the one you chose to spend your last 
moments with, my voice the last thing you'd have 
heard in this life.
	
You would give your life for me just as 
easily, even though I seriously doubt my life is 
even remotely worth yours. But you love me so 
much that you'd have no difficulties in 
sacrificing yourself for me.
	
You are my wife, I am your husband. Not in 
the gold-band I-do kind of way, we're not even 
technically speaking lovers. No, we're far more 
than that.
	
You are my friend, my confidante, my other 
half, my soulmate in every sense of the word. 
When I first met you I instinctively knew we had 
to set barriers, something I'd never felt with 
other people I worked with. It was as if we 
sensed what this partnership could become and we 
had to keep our feelings to ourselves. Our work 
was too important. We knew the potentials for a 
relationship that would go far beyond the 
Bureau's partnership laws ... We are keeping our 
promise, we stick to the rules. Most of the time. 
It would be choking us if we would. The two of us 
sometimes find a way to let off steam, even 
though that but rarely happens, just about every 
eight or nine months. We have to be so very 
careful and we both want so much more. I know I 
do and I also know these feelings aren't one-
sided. God knows maybe one day we'll be granted 
with more.
	
You are my God, though. You are my faith, I 
have never trusted anyone as much as I trust you. 
You are the safe-keeper of my life and my heart 
and I trust you wholly with it. I seem to 
remember I thought of you as an angel, but I 
think I'll have to take it back, because you are 
far far more. You see, I don't think a mere angel 
would have the power to decide about life and 
death and it sure seems that you can. I cannot 
count the times I've wanted to shrivel up and die 
under one of your Looks, and at the same time can 
one of your rare smiles bring me back from the 
dead. Maybe, just maybe, that's why I end up in 
hospital so often: to see that moment's worth of 
utter joy and relief on your face when I first 
open my eyes. You're always there and no matter 
what you say to me, you really are happy I'm 
back. And you can make me laugh, even when I have 
to crack a joke first.
	
You are troubled and to my embarrassment I 
have to admit that I have contributed much to 
that. Because of me you have lost much of your 
youthful joy and optimism, and you are 
distrustful of the world. Our mutual quest has 
made you into that. And you have a good reason 
for feeling that way after all they've done to 
you. Those same people who claim to want only 
what is best for the American people have 
destroyed your life and future as they once were. 
They took you from me, performed tests on you and 
removed parts of you without your consent and 
then, when you were back with me, you developed 
cancer. Being God you did not die, but you'll 
never be intact anymore. You'll never have 
children of your own, they've taken from you one 
of the most wonderful parts of being human, of 
being alive ...
	
You are the mother of the children I will 
never have. I would like to be a father, but you 
cannot have children, even though I'd travel the 
world on my bare feet for you if I just knew 
there was a way to make it possible for you to 
have a healthy baby. I would because you are the 
only woman I could ever have a child with. I 
don't think I'd make the world's best father, I 
haven't had much of an example after all, but I'd 
be willing to try it with you. But I'm not 
complaining about what I cannot have because I 
feel I'm already having too much ...
	
You and I make love now and then, which is 
something we have to keep a secret. After all, 
we're supposed to have a 100% platonic 
relationship and making love just doesn't fit 
into that concept. But somehow we aren't really 
breaking with that idea. I don't know how, I just 
know that the way we work together, eat and drink 
together, spend over 16 hours a day together 
feels just as normal as sleeping together. It's a 
part of our lives, a necessary part of our lives, 
and every eight, nine months we come together and 
find release of the pent-up tension in a night of 
window-rattling sex.
	
You aren't perfect, but that's not bothering 
me. You are the most perfect woman I could ever 
have wanted in every part of my life. And each 
time we make love we make a child. The child will 
never be born, but we give it to each other and 
my love for you, because of this priceless gift, 
knows no bounds.

XxXxX

You are sitting beside me on the floor and I 
find it impossible to keep on pretending I'm 
asleep. Your hand is resting on my chest, right 
over my heart and it feels as if your hand is 
protecting it. I slowly open my eyes and look at 
you. You've been sitting by my side for hours, 
silently keeping vigil and gently caressing my 
skin with your hand. I love you so very much ... 
You smile at me, a smile so very sweet and 
sincere it stops my breath in my throat.
	
You knows your power over me and I cannot 
help joking a bit. I smile, take your hand from 
my chest and kiss a way too risky kiss on your 
fingers. "Good morning, gorgeous," I whisper and 
I see your heart melt. Bingo. Got you.
	
You got me too, though. Your reaction is 
like an electric current short-circuiting my 
system. I don't know what is going on inside that 
incredible mind of yours, but your reaction 
leaves no doubts whatsoever: you drag me down 
from the couch into your arms and then your lips 
are on mine. And that's when I know that this 
time we're not going to stick to a safe and 
careful breaking of the partnership laws ...

The End

Kirsten Kerkhof
The Netherlands, 26 February 2000