Well, see, in my life, I don't really have too many options. I can do
something that will save my life and end someone else's, or I can die.
End of story. So I choose to live. Selfishness is a wonderful thing.
So is my fear of death. Both go real far in making you learn to survive
in the world.
Just so you get a clear picture, I want to emphasize the fact that
running into Fox Mulder is usually NOT a choice I make. It just
happens. Quite often, in fact. I get through it—maybe lose a limb—but I live to see another day. Sometimes a day that is time zones away
from the day before, but a day all the same.
I've tried to stay away from him since my stint as a FBI agent ended.
And like I said, when I do see him, it isn't a choice. Hold up though.
Just because I say it's not a choice doesn't mean I don't like it. He's
the only person I truly understand, and if he'd ever really listen to
me, look at me, then he could understand me totally too. It's there.
It's natural. It's like we're two halves of one whole. No, that's not
cheesy. It's true. We are meant to be together. He's the good. I'm
the bad. I can fulfill all the things his baser nature can dream up,
and he's the Boy Scout for the both of us.
But until all of this shit is over, he can't begin to believe in an "us"—believe in me. He won't let himself. I've seen the glimmer of
understanding in his eyes before, in the cell in Tunguska, saw it that
night I went...
Jesus. The memories of that night always knock the breath out of me. I
don't know what I was thinking—wait, I wasn't thinking. It was a
choice I made subconsciously. I chose to show him a glimpse of the
truth and of me. But I regretted it so much. Not the kiss, but just
the... whole thing. It was irresponsible, dangerous. How could I even
expect him to trust me, understand me.
I never regret the kiss, though. I hold onto it for dear life. I guess
I do because I think I'll never again get the chance to feel his
stubbley five o'clock shadow skin under my lips. Or feel his body so
open to me as it was in those few seconds. He wanted me. I know he
did. I could see it and feel in his body and eyes before he even knew
it was there. It was emanating off of him like a heat wave.
It was so hard to leave him. I wanted to make love to him right then
and there. Push him down on the floor and kiss him until he was gasping
for breath. Take off all his clothes piece by piece. Touch him
everywhere. But I... couldn't do it. I realized that I wanted him to
want it too; I wanted him to come willingly. I wanted him to know
exactly what was happening, what it entailed. I wanted to feel him
pursue me. I wanted him to want me as much as I want him.
So, anyway, today is a choice I'm making for me. And for him. He just
wouldn't understand that it's for him too. I tell myself that it would
be so easy to walk away and deny what I feel. But I know I could only
hold out for a few minutes before I'd be running back to him. And
until I leave this comforting circle of trees that is sheltering me,
I'll be half a person. I just can't leave this alone. I have to share
this with him for some reason. I feel like if something happens to him
it happens to me. I'm connected to him by a thin wire, and every time
somebody plucks that wire, I feel the vibrations just as strongly as, if
not more than, he does.
I walk out of the tree circle cautiously. I move closer to where he is
standing, the row of stones standing erect before him. He's not
crying. He's not even frowning. He looks content. And I gasp in
amazement. He hears. He turns and looks into my eyes, squinting his
own as if he can dive deeper into mine that way. He speaks.
"Alex."
And I feel my chest begin to ache as it always does around him. I
speak.
"Mulder."
He quirks a half smile. Raises an eyebrow. Pushes his hands deeper
into his pockets. He shakes his head once, quickly.
He says, "No—Fox."
I know my face is registering confusion because he laughs—a short,
happy sound. I lick my lips and speak again.
"Fox"
The name rolls off my tongue as if I was born to say it. He nods his
head in approval. He turns back around to what he was looking at before
I interrupted him. He's not tense. In fact, he's more relaxed than
I've ever seen him. I test him out.
"Mul... Fox?"
He just nods, still turned away.
"You OK?"
He looks up into the clouds, white puffs tinged with darkness, signaling
rain later. He closes his eyes. After a minute, he looks back at me.
Smiles.
"Yes."
It's now or never. I move past him and place the flowers I've been
holding in my sweaty hand beside her headstone. When I step back he's
beside me. He grabs my hand in his own two.
"It's over, Alex. Samantha. It's over."
I can only nod. He tugs on my hand and turns to walk away, towards his
car parked in the cemetery driveway, pulling me with him. I have no
idea what's happening or where we're going. I have a choice—go with
him where he is leading or leave him. But really there is no choice. I
go with him. And we find closure together.
Choices
by Susan
Have you ever done something that you thought you'd never do? And were
you questioning yourself as you were doing it? I just want to know that
I'm not alone, that I'm not the only fool out there doing crazy things.
You know, just for a change of pace. Usually I'm completely alone in
these things.
