AUTHOR'S NOTE: I am calling this a UST story and not an MSR, because it does not in any way physically or vocally alter the M/S relationship. But watch out if you're a complete and total NoRomo type.;-) DISCLAIMER JAZZ: "The X-Files" and its characters are the creations and property of the fabled Chris Carter, Ten Thirteen Productions and Fox Broadcasting. I am, of course, using them without permission. No copyright infringement is intended. All other concepts or ideas herein are mine. SUMMARY: A moment in which Scully ponders her relationship with Mulder in a unique light. TITLE: Anything At All AUTHOR: Elizabeth Rowandale RATING: (R) (Vague sexual reference.) CLASSIFICATIONS: (V,A) KEYWORDS: Mulder/Scully UST SPOILERS: All too vague to mention.;-) ARCHIVE: Yes, Please, Everywhere!:) Just tell me, please, for anywhere but Gossamar. ANYTHING AT ALL by Elizabeth Rowandale Copyright (c) 1998 I sat on my couch last night, in my gentle apartment in Georgetown, beside an old girlfriend of mine who was only in town for a couple of nights. We popped popcorn and kicked off our shoes and curled up before the fire to watch a sappy movie on video. I felt like I was in high school again. Just spending time for nothing but fun. And forgetting for a few hours, about carrying the heavy weight of dragging the truth up from the basement shadows. About conspiracies, about Melissa, about cancer, about Emily, about death. And halfway through the movie, my friend--who is single, a lawyer--looked at me and asked if I am happy with my life. I told her I was. But then she asked, with a wistful look in her eyes that was uncharacteristically revealing, if I didn't feel like I was missing out...like it was unfair that she and I had not yet been among the chosen few who are given the gift of true love. Of sharing their life with a true companion. And I realized that there had been a time--in my twenties, perhaps--when I had identified with what she was saying. But that sometime ago...I had forgotten, or just ceased, to think that way. My mother's well-meant comments about hoping I fall in love, had ceased to sting. All I gave my friend was a smile and a shrug, and some sort of placating remark I cannot recall. But my mind did not leave the thought to sleep. Because I have something that my friend does not. Because I have...this man. This man who tells me jokes nearly every day of my life, though I have laughed at only enough to count on one hand. This man who looks for me in a crowd, and locks gazes with mine with a sigh of comfort and a welcoming smile. This man who says "Scully", the way other men would say "Honey". *Am I missing something I could have or *should* have in this life?* I have this man who has a temper like wildfire. And when he pushes people away like flies, I am not afraid to walk up to him and shout in his face until he listens. Because there is a crack in his armor open to me and no one else. And I never doubt this. This man who sweeps his eyes over the length of my figure with something far from common lust, but nearer reverence. But only when he thinks I'm not looking. And aren't these moments the sweetness that keeps me from remembering those past desires? And in quiet thoughts I often don't allow even myself to hear, I ask--Are we not, he and I, in fact, stretching out into glorious slow-motion, the tender first moments of light and beauty that most couples rush through and treasure only in memory for the more ordinary years to come... This man who steps between me and every rude stare, every lude comment. Who wraps me in his coats and guides me through doorways. And who respects--my independence. The thing I need above all else. Have always needed. The thing he gives me without reproach, without resentment. Because it gives him the freedom he himself craves. On the worst night of my life, I could go to this man and wilt into tears--and he would take me in without question, wrap me in his arms and carry me to safety and hold me as long as I needed to be held. I would never make use of this gift. At least I don't think I will. But I have no doubt that I have this--and always will. *Am I missing anything?* I have a man--who I know from actual example--would go to the ends of the earth to find me. As long as I wanted to be found. I have this man who argues philosophy with me--like we are dancing. Or making angry love. There is a passion behind our choreography that makes my skin quiver. This man who will give up all that he has ever cared about, ever believed in--if I am not there to share it with him. This man who never once looked at me as an Ice Queen. He saw so much further into me from our first day together than he could ever know. He has been my shelter for longer than I care to admit. I'm not sure I admit it now. This man who phones me in the middle of the night to quell his nightmares. With my rationalism, my concern, the sound of my voice. My love. And he wishes I would do the same. I see him, silently studying my tired eyes some mornings, wondering what has plagued my night. Wondering if it was anything at all. And I shrink from his probing. But at the same time, his grey eyes are soothing somewhere deep inside me. This gift I hold--the open door. And someday, I might actually cash that one in. Someday. *Am I missing something?* Yes, of course, there is the physical desire. Though I am certainly not untouched by him. Our connection is strong. Our caresses precious. But yes, upon secret occasion, I have been known to wallow in the sensation of him. To slip my hand between my legs and wish that it was his. But there is a flush of embarrassment that comes with this pleasure. For that is not who we are. Not yet. I have this man, with whom I have been known to share a few genuine smiles. When my secret love for his warped sense of humor gets the best of me, despite the morbidity of the scenes that may surround us. And when our eyes lock, and our warmth bubbles over like that...there is nothing that can match the feeling. For our shared humor always becomes...shared affection. And then we grow shy, and we look away. But the warmth remains. And I ask--*Am I really missing anything at all?* THE END ************************** Again, I am above begging...but PLEASE send feedback!!!:) bstrbabs@yahoo.com