Author's Note: HUGE thanks to TuxCat-my editor, my biggest supporter, and my best friend. And, just as importantly, the one who introduced me to The X-Files. :)
Disclaimers: I own nothing, yadda, yadda, yadda...
Dear John,
Wow. I can't believe I wrote that. A literal Dear John letter. But it's not my fault that you have the most generic name in the world, you fucking prick. How could you? How could you do this to me, to us? Not us, like Melvin and Jimmy-they've been coping fairly well. No, I mean US. We had only been together for a few months-well, we'd been working together for fifteen years. But we had so little time as-well, whatever we are. A couple? Boyfriends? Lovers? Somehow, none of these words seem to describe what we have.
I missed you too, John. I know it was the longest we've been apart since we've been together, but couldn't you have waited a few extra hours to see me? You were always the sensible one, Johnny-I thought you knew better than to speed, especially in the rain. And now, because of your selfishness, I'll have to live the rest of my life without you.
I'm sorry, Johnny. That's not fair. I just can't stand the thought of being without you. We took so long to find each other, and now…life is so unfair. Maybe it's good, though, to be channeling my feelings into these letters. It was Mulder's idea, you know. I finally relented and talked to him after three solid weeks of Doohickey and Jimmy trying to drag me to a counselor. Hell, in those first few weeks I was lucky if I could drag myself out of bed in the morning, much less eat, or leave HQ. When Mulder first suggested it, I scoffed. No way was I keeping a damn diary. But then he suggested that I write these letters to you, and-well, I figured it was worth a try. I wasn't coping well on my own, anyway.
I'm sorry I couldn't go to the service, John. Being around all those people pretending to be so sad, people who hardly even knew you; people giving me either sympathetic glances or death glares, just because they can't accept what we had. I keep trying to remind myself that's their problem, but…well, the other day, my first time out since The Accident, a guy who had read the obit we ran started giving me shit about us. Let's just say it's a good thing jimmy was there to hold me back. I'm sorry, John. I know that me beating the crap out of that poor loser and probably winding up in jail isn't what you want. People making fun of me, I can handle. Have been for years. But people picking on you, especially now…that's a whole different story.
I have to go now, Johnny-it's almost dinnertime. Frohike's been making all my favorite foods, trying to get me to eat, and tonight we're having lasagna. My stomach is rumbling despite myself. I hope you can forgive me for my anger and for everything else-I know you can, wherever you are. I may not be religious, but I believe with all my heart that I'll see you again someday.
All my love,
Ringo