Spoilers: hmmm... well you
should know what happened in Closure.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Never
gonna be mine. *sigh* So what?
A note at the end of the story...
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
I want today to be special.
I want him to remember it with his mind and heart, to keep its
joy in
both. And I know he will memorize this day forever after I've
surprised
him like I'm planning to.
After all it is not just Valentine's Day but also our six months
anniversary. Even if that's not an actual, celebrated
anniversary, but
it means a lot to me, as I know it does to him.
>From the day he became free, every single minute counts. I
remember the
time so vividly as if it happened just a moment ago. We both
quit the
Bureau the day after, got married a week later and moved into
this
lovely little house just outside of Georgetown. Shortly after
that he
began teaching Behavioral Sciences at Quantico and I got a job
in a
hospital's ER in Georgetown.
Lighting the candles on the coffee table, I remember the
difficulties
the two had at first trying to adjust to the new situation. But
neither
of us needed a long time to accept and love our new luck, our
final
freedom.
The journey here has been a constant fight-- for life, for
right, and
for us. And it hasn't stopped with our marriage, no, we had to
fight
even more, and much harder this time. It was a long fight, hard
on both
of us, mentally as physically, and until now I didn't see any
end to it.
But now I am there. *We* are there. And I know it will make him
the
happiest man in the world.
There he is. I can hear him closing the door behind him, doing
his best
to keep it silent so he can surprise me. I look at the clock; he
stayed
in town for quite awhile.
"Hey", he now says from the door, drawing my
attention. I smile and walk
up to him, hugging him, murmuring my welcome, then kiss him on
the mouth
hard; his desperate attempt to keep the bouquet behind his back
all the
while making my heart swell with affection.
Finally I release him and let him hand it to me. Seven long,
delicately
scented red roses. One for each year. A small piece of chocolate
attached to each one.
All of a sudden I feel tears welling up, and I swallow, but he
notices
it. Of course. He is the sweetest and most attentive husband. I
couldn't
have wished for anything else but him.
He draws me close, giving me but a second to quickly drop the
flowers on
the nearby dresser. Our lips meet again, deeper than before, our
tongues
savoring one another, increasing our heartbeats, feeling one
another's
warmth. When we break the kiss, I wrap both my arms around his
torso and
bury my head in his chest. I could stand here like that forever,
me and
him, but...
"Come on, dinner's ready", I say, dragging him with me
into the dining
room.
He doesn't sit down as I disappear into the kitchen. I know he
is
anticipating something. And I'll let him know in a minute.
I return not with a steaming pot but a small beige folder and
place it
onto the table before him, smiling. "Happy Valentine's Day,
Mulder", I
say.
He returns the smile, but he is not quite certain what I want
him to
reveal there; he looks at the table, at me, then back at the
table.
Finally he opens the file and takes out the small, Polaroid-
like
picture. At first his face reflects his confusion, then he
begins to
understand, and joy fills his eyes, as well as tears. And how
could I
blame him? I watch him look at the blurry, dark picture with the
tiny
white spot in the middle. His breathing becomes heavy, his eyes
close
and open again, a single tear making its way down his cheek.
Finally he
looks at me, his wife, at a loss of words.
After a moment he drops the small photo and hugs me tightly,
sobbing
into my hair.
"Oh", he says, "oh Scully." I cling to him,
letting have his way just as
I did this morning. He needs a moment to realize what my gift to
him
means.
It means the fulfillment of our final goal, the last bit to add
to our
complete, final luck. To make us love one another more each day.
"I'm pregnant", I say.
Send feedback to yayoi@aol.com Everyone
loves feedback.
