Title: Kiss the Sea (1/1)
Author: Ms. AM
Email:
ALMowry@pathway.netRating: G
Keywords: M/S, angst
Category: V, Post-ep
Archiving: Sure I don't mind.
Spoilers: Yep the whole she-bang.
Feedback: Oh yes please do.
Disclaimer: They're mine, mine I tell you. All mine, I'm rich and independently wealthy. I'm a happy miser. (Channeling Daffy too)
Summary: Imagination or reality, past, present or future...
Kiss the Sea (1/1)
She felt a calling.
A beckoning from an unknown source--Scully followed.
The shoreline loomed ahead, white sand seemed to kiss the sea or was the sea kissing the sand?
Ebb and flow...the sand and the sea.
She watched the spectacle with lonely eyes.
"Come closer," a voice whispered; the sea, the sand?
Maybe it was her imagination.
It didn't matter, she obeyed, taking off her shoes and stepping onto the beach.
"Closer."
The fine white grains seeped between her toes and dusted the soles of her feet with a gritty texture she yearned to remove--but refused.
As she drew nearer to the water, she saw the footprints--two pair. One set large, an adult's; the other set small like a child's.
They continued as far as she could see and, feeling like Dorothy following the yellow-brick road, Scully began her own journey with sandy footprints as her guide...
She walked and walked.
Then she walked some more following another's previous path.
She didn't stop when the wind increased making each step more laborious--she continued.
Even when she walked just a little too close to the sea and its liquid nibbled at her toes--she continued.
She felt a kinship with the sand at that moment, wanting to follow the siren call of the sea and envelope herself in its coolness.
She pulled herself back with the knowledge that, sometimes, there were grains of sand that never returned. Once they followed the lure of the sea, they were lost and so--she walked.
Distance and time faded away with each step, miles and hours--days perhaps slipped away...
A mist grew before her and she caught a glimpse of a man, in jeans and a leather jacket with chestnut hair. She paused--holding her breath as the child beside him turned his head and looked at her.
It was a little boy who, smiling, let go of the man's hand and stood looking at her. Then with a small wave he turned away. The man hadn't stopped and the boy ran to catch up, linking his small hand with the much larger one of the man.
Scully wanted to call out, but her voice seemed frozen.
The pair faded into the mist ahead. She sprinted forward with one arm curved under her abdomen supporting her unborn child. She came to a dead stop at an outcropping of rocks.
"Mulder!" She finally cried out and dropped to her knees in the sand.
She woke, with his name on her lips and her body trembling and sweating. The baby kicked once as she closed her eyes, fingers circling her abdomen in a soothing caress...
* * * * *
The rocks were jagged and hurt her feet as she scrambled carefully over them.
One set of footprints faded into the distance--she chose to follow.
Perhaps the child was tired and was being supported by the man's arms. That must be the answer, she decided.
She couldn't be far behind.
She walked.
She stopped when in one step the singular set of footprints changed from large to small. Her mind, trying to wrap around this oddity swam to a familiar poem...
'My son, my precious child.
I love you and would never leave you.
During your times of trial and suffering,
When you see only one set of footprints,
It was then that I carried you.'
She shook her head--God wasn't here.
She had seen two people, a man and boy; large footprints had become small.
Was the boy carrying the man? Was he stepping forward under the heavy burden of a weight much larger than his own?
She walked.
At one point she paused, turning around and gasping at the sight behind her. Smooth sand stretched out as far as she could see, no rocks, and no footprints; not even her own...
She closed her eyes and turned back. Opening them, she saw the boy, sitting on the beach a few yards away. He was dressed in a navy blue shirt and jean shorts.
She slowly walked toward him. His little face looked up at her, while his hand shielded his eyes from the Sun's glare at the same time.
"Hello," he said and stood, dusting off the sand from his shorts and taking Scully's hand. They stood together watching the waves buffet the beach.
* * * * *
"I'm glad you came," he said.
"What's your name? Where are your parents?" She asked.
"My father is away a lot...he works for the government. He's away now."
"What's your name?" She repeated.
He looked at her with big round eyes and shook his head sadly.
* * * * *
"I want to call you something, why won't you tell me your name?"
"No--come with me," he said and pulled her along farther down the beach. She stood in awe at the site. "Neat, isn't it?" He asked.
She circled the triangular shape; her memory flashing to the craft she found buried in Africa. It was a replica made of grains of sand.
The boy sounded sad when he spoke, picking up a handful of the white grains and letting them sift through his fingers.
"He almost failed, you know, he almost gave up, but he didn't--he helped me make this. We made it together."
"Who?" Scully breathlessly asked.
The boy looked at her, his eyes moist and smiled in that way that only children can. "I like you," he said and took her hand in his own, squeezing gently.
* * * * *
They had watched the sun set together, not speaking. The sky turned dark and the stars created a mural across the sky with their light.
"I'm cold," the little boy said and wrapped his arms around himself, shivering. Scully pulled him to her side, warming him as best she could.
"Maybe you should stay away from the water," he suddenly said. Scully looked to the sea, confused, in the dark it looked foreboding, black and oily. The tide seemed to be coming closer and closer to where they sat; she stood and tried to pull the boy back with her.
"Come on," she said.
He shook his head and looked up into the sky, tears on his cheeks, "He, he helped me and, and...then he went away." He sobbed and got to his knees facing her, "Why? Why did he go away?"
Scully knelt down and pulled the crying child into her arms, rocking him back and forth. She tried to keep her own tears from flowing but found she could not.
"I don't know," she murmured into his hair.
They cried together on the beach and under the stars.
* * * * *
She lifted her head from the sand, her face warm from the Sun's morning rays. The boy stood about ten feet away from her.
"I won't see you anymore--not like this, not like we are now," he said.
He turned and walked over to her, cupping her cheeks in his small hands. "Thank you," he whispered before kissing her forehead.
She wanted to protest, but something within her wouldn't let her utter a single sound.
She watched transfixed as the boy walked toward the water's edge and faded from sight like a mirage.
She stood and started walking nearer to the sea, but his warning rang in her ears.
Strange how she'd always been at peace with the sea, like it was a part of her. Now she felt more like the sand, only moving when some other force made her.
She once thought Mulder was like the sand. How it's always shifting and changing, but he was the sea as well, pushing and pulling--luring her away from the things she'd always thought she'd wanted.
Her feet felt damp and looking down she saw that area of the beach where two elements combined; wet sand, a compromise between the two; that was them--Mulder and herself.
She closed her eyes letting the breeze and the sound of the waves carry her away, never noticing the footprints leading away from the sand-craft.
Three--one small set between two larger.
And yes, the sand still kissed the sea...
The End
Authors Notes: Any and all feedback will be gratefully acknowledged, I will be very interested in seeing the ratio of votes for the boy being Mulder's inner child vs. the possibility of him being Mulder and Scully's child. Let me know and thanks.