TITLE: "You" AUTHOR: Kirsten Kerkhof * kirsten_xf@yahoo.com RATING: Mild R CLASSIFICATION: Mulder/Scully Romance CATEGORY: V R DISCLAIMER: Wish they were mine -- even if it were for but one day -- even if I could only have Mulder ... But they're not, they belong to CC, 1013 Productions and Fox. Damn ... SPOILERS: Small Potatoes, Redux II, S5 up to and including Detour FEEDBACK: Yes, please. Mulder and a bowl of strawberries as the reward. SUMMARY: Mulder has fallen asleep on Scully's couch and consequently Scully has every opportunity to look and admire. NOTE: This is definitely during one of the best moments in their relationship. XxXxX "You" XxXxX You are gorgeous. This isn't the first time I've been thinking this and it's not going to be the last time either, because I noticed it long ago and will always notice it. And as long as I notice it I will entertain these utterly unprofessional thoughts that you cause deep down inside me. But it's the truth. Right now you're just wearing a pair of jeans. That's all. Your feet are bare and so is the entire upper half of your body. You're absolutely mind-shatteringly beautiful. You are my best friend, my most beloved partner. What you're prepared to do, or not do for me, goes far beyond the call of duty. And I'm prepared to do exactly the same because you do so much for me. You gladly risk your life for me, take the burden of my pain and grief on your shoulders and carry it with you for the rest of your life if that means I might be spared a single minute of heart-ache. It must weigh so much ... You are asleep right now. You came to my apartment last night after going for a jog and even though I still don't know why you came to see me, I'm glad you did. I often tell you I want to be alone, but the truth is I don't want to be alone, I only want you near me as often as humanly possible. I like your company very much. So you came to see me and we started with a very innocent discussion about the case we're investigating at the moment, but very soon it turned into a conversation that was much more relaxed, personal, intimate even. You asked me things about my childhood, about what I had done before I met you, about my family and friends and you told me more about yourself too. You're not Eddie van Blundht and you could never be him either. You'd never flirt with me in such an arrogant way, you're so much more tender and considerate towards me than any other man I've ever met. We talked and laughed and drank wine for hours and hours and then I went to bed and you stayed on the couch as you often do when you're staying with me. You kissed me a very sweet good-night. You are an angel. You are one of God's chosen, though you're not in any way without flaws. You can be so moody, so depressed, so inside yourself that I wonder if there will ever be a woman who will be able to bring out the stars that sometimes shine in your eyes. Stars that grant me an intimate look into Heaven and let me see the light and pure joy that this life can hold, even though my own life often seems a model of misfortune. Brilliant greenish-grey eyes that hold the lights of Heaven and you can flood my soul with it and let it drink as much as it wants from this never-ending stream of love and hope. You are Hope. My hope. My only hope. I know you don't think much of yourself as a person, a friend, or even a partner, but I am so certain that you're my only fond hope for the future. Nobody else could have led me through that pitch-dark valley my cancer was and yet make me feel so safe and secure. I never told you, but there were moments when I felt I couldn't go on anymore, especially during those last horrible days in the hospital. At such moment I often felt ready to call you and beg you to please come to the hospital, unplug all those machines and just let me die in your arms so I'd at least know a last little bit of love and beauty before I'd die. You would have come and do as I asked you, for you always do what I ask of you. And then you would have held me and stroked my face and hair, my entire being would be caressed by you; you'd have cupped my restless, ravaged soul in your generous, beautiful hands and with soft and tender caresses smoothed down my troubles and worst fears and you would have let me die peacefully, completely at ease, in the arms of the person I love most in the world, the last sounds in my ears your soft, warm voice. You would sacrifice your life for me, if it was what I needed to live. You love me so much that it seems that your life is the easiest part of you to give up for me. You are my husband. Not in the literal sense of the word because we're not married. We're not even really lovers, no, we are so much more than that. You are my friend, my buddy, my other half, my soulmate. When we first met we almost unconsciously set barriers, defined certain not-to-be-crossed lines, rules that should not be broken, as if we sensed what the relation between us two could become if we didn't make these rules. As if we knew right away how much potential there was for a much deeper, more intimate bond between you and me than two FBI agents were expected to have. We still kind of stick to those barriers, though not entirely. It would be choking us if we would. We both venture a step beyond those lines from time to time though most of the times it's just one of us who does it, but sometimes it happens to both of us at the same time and we give in to our feelings and desires. But that rarely happens, just once every eight, nine months. And it's hardly ever more than one step though we both want much more. God knows we want and maybe one day he'll grant us more. You are my God, though. You are my faith, I've come to trust and believe in no-one but you. Did I say just a second ago you were merely an angel? I take it back, because you're not. You're much, much more to me, because angels cannot decide about life and death, only God can, and it sometimes seems like you can too. You can decide about my life and death. An angry look from you can make me feel like dying then and there, but at the same time can one of your smiles bring me back from the dead. And you make me laugh, though I wonder whether the ordinary people's God would have such a weird and sarcastic sense of humour ... You are very troubled, very dark, no-one ever really knows what or who you are. Not even I do. You're haunted by what you've seen and experienced over the course of your life and it finds its reflection in me. I've lost much of my youthful joy and optimism in these past five years. I've grown older and more mature, less naive, but I've also become warier, distrustful even. Our mutual quest has made me into that. The way we've been betrayed by the very same people I had learned to trust blindly because I'd always been told they only wanted what was best for the American people has been a very hard and merciless eye- opener. They took so much away from me, so much that meant the world to me ... They performed tests on me and removed parts of my body without my consent and as a thank-you gesture left me with potentially terminal cancer. Being God, you saved me, but even you couldn't make me intact again. I'll never be able to have my own children, they've taken away from me one of the most beautiful parts of being a woman, of being alive ... You are the father of my never to be born children. I cannot have children, not yet at least. Maybe some day I will be able to, I don't know. You'd fight the world for a possibility for me to have a healthy baby, even if it would mean I could have only one. And I don't know whether you ever thought about being a father, but no man could ever give me a baby but you. But I'm not complaining about what I can't have because I feel I'm already having too much ... You and I do make love sometimes. I know, we're supposed to have a 100% platonic relationship and we have. I know it sounds weird, but somehow we can maintain a platonic relationship and yet make love. I don't really know how, I only know that the way we eat together, drink together, do everything together feels exactly the same as sleeping together. It's just part of our lives. It's an out-let for all the emotions we build up over the course of those said eight, nine months and then we step over the line together and find release in one night of earth-shattering lovemaking. You are not perfect, that's a given, but when it comes to the art of lovemaking you're probably the closest I've ever experienced a man could come. And each time we make love you bless me with a child, the child I want so badly. The child will never be born, but you give it to me and I love you so much for that ... You are waking up and you see me sitting on the floor beside you, my hand on your chest, just over your heart. I've been thinking about you and me for hours now, thoughts that are so full of love that I can feel the tears blocking my throat. I love you so much and right now I'm thanking each and every deity that is listening for what we have together. For letting us have this together. And I pray that nothing about this will ever, ever change. You grin and press a sound kiss on my fingers. "Good morning, gorgeous", you whisper and you make my heart melt instantly. Heaven. Sheer heaven. You know you can make my mind go wild, don't you? For the only thing that my muddled brain can come up with is a 'Damn, you're hot!', though my voice totally gone, far away, nowhere to be found. But I know I can answer you if not with words so I pull you off the couch and into my arms and claim your mouth with mine, then boldly venture two steps beyond the barriers. The End P.S. Pure Fluff. Pure entertainment. I get enough literature at school, thank you very much ...