MSR, PG-13
Spoilers:  Vague, Through Season Nine
Disclaimers:  Clones on Loan

THANKS:  To everyone who emailed me, asking for 'just one more
"Life" story, please!'  This is for you, with love -

DEDICATION:  To Nancy, who is a dear spot in my own online life!

Additional notes at the end -

Summary:  'It's a lonesome town, all right...'
 

"Dear Heart"
 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
'Dear Heart, wish you were here to warm this night...'
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 

Another dingy town, small and nondescript.  Another motel, another
greasy spoon diner, another series of days and nights spent holed up.

He hates his life.  No, that's not quite correct, because by no
stretch of anyone's imagination could this be called a life.

He hates his existence, that's more accurate.

Sitting in a corner booth at the diner, which is named - of all
things - simply, "Eats," he pokes at a cold hamburger nestled between
two halves of a soggy bun, garnished with wilted lettuce.  One bite
convinced him that his stomach couldn't handle the stress, so instead
he's downed several cups of coffee and has spent the evening staring
out the clouded window.  Main Street, Po-dunk, USA.  On a weeknight
there's nothing happening.  He figures it's as boring behind closed
doors as it seems to be out in public.  Ironically it's these deader-
than-a-doornail towns that afford him the most anonymity and safety.
He used to think the big cites were easier to disappear in.  He
doesn't think that way any longer.

It's a clear night and the stars are slowly popping out.  There's a
quarter moon as well, and as he gazes at it through the blurry window
he can't help but wonder if his woman is staring at the same moon,
and thinking of him.

Of course, she is.  He knows her.  She might have her feet planted
firmly on the ground but deep inside her heart she's a romantic, and
a moon-gazer.  He used to tease her about it just to watch her get
indignant and argumentative.

"I do NOT gaze at the moon, Mulder!  Why on earth would I want to?"

"Because you're hoping, if you do, you'll see a "Moon-Gotcha."

"I know I'm going to regret this, but... what's a "Moon-Gotcha?"

"Well, I'll show you.  See the moon?"

"Yeah..."

"GOTCHA!"

"MULDER!  Let go of my kneecap; that TICKLES!"

He can almost hear her laughter, as he stares at the moon.  Almost.

*************
 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
'Dear Heart, seems like a year since you've been out of my sight...'
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She's the reason he sits in tiny, dark diners that smell of old
frying oil.  She's the reason he moves from place to place, back-
tracking and side-stepping his way across the country.  She and his
child, his William.  Two days old when he left, bending over the
bassinet to kiss the tiny, perfect face.  Trying to stem the tears,
upset when two of them dripped onto the soft blue receiving blanket
that lay over his son as he slept.  Spilling more tears on her pale,
sad face when he had to say goodbye; had to hold her so tightly one
last time, there in the doorway of the bedroom they'd shared all too
infrequently.

As he'd wiped at her wet cheeks, she'd done the same for him.  And
their final words to each other were banal and frustrating and so
much like them...

"You'll need to change vehicles several times.  And don't forget to
get word to me - safely, of course - when you need more funds."

He'd nodded and buried his face in her hair, inhaling the scent,
imprinting in his mind the good clean of it, knowing that anything
resembling good was going to be damned scarce.  "I'll try to leave
notes with the guys, and maybe I can email you once in a while.  As
soon as I secure everything and it feels safer."

<I love you.  I worship you.  I can't bear the thought of having to
leave you, even for a day, much less weeks and possibly months.>
He'd wanted to say that, over and over again.  Instead he'd talked of
notes and goddamned email messages.  They were both idiots, it would
seem.

But the kiss they'd shared more than made up for the words they
never spoke.  Hard, desperate, taking, greedy, soft, tender,
supplicating, needy...  unutterably sad.  No words could have topped
it, and so none were offered.  He'd walked to the curb and climbed
into the taxi; it drove away carrying him, his suitcases... but not
his heart.  He'd left it, beating out its love for her, in her hands.

That drive away from Scully had signaled the beginning of hell for
him.  Days and nights on the road.  Buying a beat-up car, driving it
until he could dump it, and buy another.  Seeking to vanish into the
mystic the way their enemies seemed to be able to do at the drop of a
hat.  Praying that with his absence, he'd secure a measure of
security for the woman and child he'd walked away from.

Mostly, he'd prayed.

********************

The sheets on the lumpy bed are old and pilled, frayed, smelling of
bleach and a touch of mildew.  The blanket is threadbare and the
bedspread should have been put out of its misery years ago.  It
doesn't matter all that much to him because it's not like he's going
to fall asleep, anyway.  Usually he finds himself flat on his back,
staring at the ceiling and wishing with an intensity bordering on
pain that he was in that apartment in Georgetown.  He'd have both
arms full of family, better believe it.  Instead, he counts the
cracks in the cheap plaster job that some underpaid Joe Schmoe
slopped over the ceiling - probably back during the Depression - and
he thinks of every second he held her, every kiss he gave her.

It keeps him sane.

From that first tentative meeting of lips to the first mesh of their
bodies on a night much like this one, he never questioned that they
belonged together.  In his mind it was inevitable.  If he was unsure
of anything, it was the regard and interest their relationship might
generate among those who'd seek to use them to control and manipulate
a future that he was just beginning to comprehend and to fear.  That
alone kept him from declaring himself on more than one occasion.

But one night... one night it was impossible to deny it any longer.
One night everything that needed to be said between them was whittled
down into a kiss so fiercely sweet that it nearly sent him to his
knees.

He still can't recall who kissed whom first.  It just seemed as if
one moment he was looking into her eyes and the next she was bare and
warm and beneath him in his rumpled bed, their mouths fused together.
There was no memory of having undressed; only the magic they created
on each others' bodies with lips, tongues, hands.

Her skin was damp and satiny against his.  Her legs twined around
him, holding him tightly while her mouth fed from his with greedy
passion.  Into the silence of the room their sighs and gasps, broken
words of need and desire, blended with that first hard thrust of his
flesh piercing hers.  When she arched up against him, when her blue
eyes went opaque and blind with the power of her release... that's
when he knew he'd do anything to keep her at his side, loving him.
That's when he became the strongest he'd ever been in his life - and
the most vulnerable.

**************************

As the shadows shift across the small motel room, he rubs at eyes
gritty from lack of sleep and wonders if William is still awakening
at two in the morning to nurse.  A smile breaks over his face when he
recalls how unbelievably lovely Scully looked when she nursed their
son, how his tiny hand fisted against her pale skin, the way her eyes
met his as William fed at her breast.  Glowing with new motherhood,
she presented the most beautiful of miracles and he'd sat next to her
in complete awe as she nursed their child.

Twenty hours later, he was gone.

Mulder rubs at his eyes again, trying to alleviate the sting of
tears held ruthlessly at bay.  He tells himself he's doing the right
thing, staying away.  He knows the consequences of being found,
especially if Scully and William were found with him.

But, God Almighty, he misses them.  The pain of loss kills him,
little by little, each day he spends on the road, moving farther away
from them.

*******************

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
'A single room, a table for one - it's a lonesome town, all right...'
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Another gray dawn and he's sitting on the bed, still fully dressed,
still thinking.  It's been three days and he should probably head
out, find another little burg and start all over again.

He doesn't want to.  He wonders if he'll ever be able to face that
new dawn, easing the car back on the road and driving again.

He wants to go home.  The ache inside him threatens to overwhelm him
to the point of pain, as he stumbles to the bathroom to splash tepid
water on his face.  He needs a shave, and yet why should he bother?
The only woman in the world whose opinion of him truly matters is as
unattainable to him right now as a star in the night sky.

He can't go back to Georgetown; that's a no-brainer.  But Jesus,
it's a big world and surely there are many hiding places in it.
Instead of actively searching, he's been sobbing into his coffee when
he could be making some short-range plans.

Would Scully live with him anywhere?  He knows she would.  She'd
pack it up in a minute, cram William and her clothes into suitcases,
bag up a stroller and nab the first available mode of transport out
of town.

Would she leave her family behind if the only way they could
disappear involved allowing the Scullys to think they were dead?

There's the million-dollar question.  Luckily for him he's sure
enough of her love and commitment to provide the only acceptable
answer...

*********************************

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
'But soon I'll kiss you hello at our front door...'
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His fingers shake when he dials the phone, taking a chance on
calling her cell.

"Scully."

"It's me.  I need you to listen."

"Mulder, oh, God..."

He closes his eyes at the sound of her voice in his ear, soaking it
in, letting it wash over him.  He murmurs into the receiver, "I know.
Me, too.  But right now you have to listen.  Okay?"

A sigh of longing and then a firm, "Yes.  I'm listening."

He finds himself taking a deep breath as he retains a death grip on
the phone.  "I want you to pack what you can, and leave.  Contact me
when you get settled and tell me where you are.  Go wherever you
want, as long as you feel safe when you get there.  Soon, okay?  I
can't live this way any longer.  I can't."

He breaks off, fighting to keep his voice even.  It's asking too
much of her, he knows.  Yet he could no more stop himself from asking
than to stop breathing.  One more hour without hearing her voice
might have done him in, and under more sane circumstances a phone
call could have gone a decent way toward placating him.

But he's not quite sane, not right now.  And his need for her is all-
encompassing...  There's a plea in his tone when he pushes his mouth
closer to the receiver, as if by touching it with his lips he's
somehow touching her.  "Can you do it, Scully?  Can you drop it all,
the job and the family, and meet me?  Can you disappear with me?"

Her sigh fills his head and his heart.  "You even have to ask?  I'm
more than ready.  Consider us on the way.  I can't do it any longer
either, Mulder.  It's killing me in small measures, each day."

Her willingness to give it all up, relinquish contact with her
family, humbles him.  In truth, he expected her to need a bit of time
to think it over.  Though he wants to run with the words she just
echoed in his ear, he also wants to give her an out, just in case
she's being impulsive.

Mulder's jaw clenches a bit as he cautions, "Be very sure.  Once we
do this, we can't go back.  You know that.  You stand to lose so
much, Scully.  If I were a less selfish man I'd find reasons to stop
myself from asking you."

"Mulder, you're not selfish.  I made the choice a long time ago to
walk with you, stand at your side and put my trust in you.  I love my
family but you are my life.  There's no question in my mind as to the
path I need to follow.  There's nothing more to be said, except to
iron out the small details and then try to relax as much as you can,
until I contact you."

She's holding firm with him, being the practical one, but he can
hear the small tremor behind her words.  If it takes all that he has
and all that he is, he'll keep her and William safe and that tremor
will never return...

With a soft whisper of, "I'll wait for your call, Scully," he
disconnects, fighting the prick of tears at the corners of his eyes.
He has a tough job ahead of him... making sure he stays calm until
she calls him, and then making damn sure he's ready to hit the road,
when she does.

*******************************

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
'And, Dear Heart, I want you to know I'll leave your side
nevermore...'
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The days have melded into weeks that have dragged on, weighing him
down more than usual.  His cell has remained stubbornly silent and
he's wanted to stomp on it in frustration.  It's not that he worries
she'll change his mind.  She won't.  Even the thought that she'll
leave her mother, her brothers in the dark concerning her fate,
won't sway her.

She's going to do it.  She's coming to him.

Mulder refuses to think about anything except their immediate
safety.  Instead of agonizing over what's she's giving up for him, he
finalizes what arrangements he can, and stays as optimistic as
possible.  Instead of worrying about what next year will hold, he
makes himself concentrate on the pure relief he'll feel when his
family is safe in his arms and he's holding them close.  As far as
he's concerned, the day after that miracle and every day thereafter
will take care of itself.

They'll need to bury themselves in a place that accepts the stranger
and asks no questions; begin a life as far removed from their present
existence as possible.  He tells himself, with complete honesty, that
there isn't a way of life he couldn't endure as long as Scully and
William could be at his side.  As long as he can count on awakening
each morning with her sweet face next to him on the pillow and fall
asleep at night after rocking their son to sleep in his arms...

That's all.  That's everything.

Mulder sits with ill-concealed patience and makes notes, pours over
road maps, drinking bad coffee and ignoring gritty eyes left over
from another almost-sleepless night.  It's coming together, slowly,
but there will be all kinds of small yet important details that need
to be ironed out.  Again, he refuses to dwell on anything other than
willing the damned phone to ring, hearing at last that she's
somewhere with William and both of them are waiting for him to find
them.

He's kept in sporadic contact with the guys, understanding and
grateful as hell that he'll always have a lifeline to the world he
and Scully have chosen to leave behind.  As some of those afore-
mentioned small details have been ironed out, Mulder finds himself
more and more impressed with their expertise and their cunning.
Their unswerving loyalty and dedication to him and his loved ones has
meant the world to him.  Thanks to their efforts, he and Scully - and
William - will have anonymity and a safe mode to function in.  The
rest will be up to them.

Mulder is more than equal to the challenge.

He stares at his cell as if willing it to ring; then forces himself
to cease the obsessing.  Pouring the rest of his cold coffee down the
drain in the bathroom sink, he prowls the small confines of his room,
peeking out of the drawn curtains at the window, seeing nothing but
the image of Scully as she stood on the curb and watched him leave.
He never wants to replay another image like that in his mind, ever
again.

He wants to see her face light up when he walks into a room; wants
to feel her arms come around him in the dusk of the evening after the
supper dishes have been cleared.  He wants William on his knee,
gurgling up at him while they play 'horsey ride,' and he wants most
of all to curl his family close in the dead of night when the only
threat outside their window is a thunderstorm, a blizzard, a heat
wave.  He wants it so badly, and waiting for it to begin has been the
hardest thing to deal with.

<Damn it, phone... ring.>

And as if by magic, through his desperate will alone, it does.
Mulder snatches it up so fast he almost flings it across the room.
He punches a button and barks into the receiver in a voice too rough,
overly worried; so hopeful.

"Hello.  Hello!"

"It's me."  She sounds tired but wonderful; Mulder lets his clenched
fingers relax around the small cell phone.  After weeks and weeks of
uncertainty her voice in his ear is his only reality.

He sighs through her name as he responds to that short salutation
and when she speaks again he can almost hear the smile she must be
wearing.

"We're ready for you.  Plattsburgh, New York."  Her voice lowers to
a soft whisper as she recites an address.  With those few words she's
given him that lifeline he needs; has blessed him with a future and
proven her trust and loyalty all over again.  As if he ever needed
further proof.

It takes a moment for his voice to steady but he manages to reply
without blubbering.  "I'm leaving now.  It may take a few days.
Leave a light on for me, okay?"

Her watery chuckle is a balm and a promise.  "I'll also put the
coffee on and turn down your side of the bed.  Hurry, okay?  Your son
wants you to read him a story."

Mulder closes his eyes against the sudden burn of tears that he
won't allow to fall.  Now is not the time for them.  Now is for
gladness, for anticipation.  For reaffirmation.

"I'm never leaving you again, Scully.  I promise."

He has to strain to hear her; miles and miles between them - as well
as a shaky connection - reduces her reply to a thread of sound.  But
he catches the words right before she disconnects.

"I won't let you, Mulder.  Never again.  I love you so..."

Mulder carefully folds his cell and places it in his pocket.  He
scoops up the papers, maps and other assorted items from the small
table near the window, collects his belongings and walks out the
door.  He slides behind the wheel of the old sedan parked out in the
lot and singles out a map, spreading it open the seat next to
him.  He drives away with a smile on his face and an image of Scully
waiting in a doorway somewhere up north, William in her arms, smiling
for him.

For him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
'And, Dear Heart, I want you to know... I'll leave your side...
nevermore...'
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 

End

Final notes:   I have received so many emails from readers who
enjoyed "A Life" and wanted to know how it all began, that I just had
to reopen the series and write a prologue.  It's been wonderful for
me, revisiting this universe and creating a beginning for it.  Thanks
for wanting more!

Nancy, as always you are in my thoughts and my prayers.  I'm so glad
we're friends!

The title and words of the song I borrowed?  Written by Henry
Mancini in 1965, "Dear Heart" is a lovely, sad and yet hopeful melody!

I love to hear from you; email me sometime!  char@chaffin.com

Website?  Moi?  But of course!  http://char.chaffin.com