Quiet
You don't appreciate quiet as much as you should until you can't remember the last time you had a moment to yourself. The five year old at tap, the twelve-year old at basketball practice and me with a glass of wine and a good book that hadn't been cracked open in months.
The old grandfather clock ticked away as I opened to page...
Ten
and took a large quaff of the merlot which was purchased for New Years and hadn't been opened until today
February 22, 2014
It was noon, but thanks to car pools I could have a drink before the children and their loudness would return in less than two hours...one hour fifty nine minutes...I better start savoring the words of Chaucer and the finest grapes in all of France.
For the last month and a week I had played single parent. After returning to the bureau five years prior - a decision I still questioned and or regretted to this day - my partner, office mate and husband had been on assignment in London. He got to travel, I got Tuesdays and Thursdays in the car pool. I didn't lament my choices; being blessed with a second child and having my first returned to me - regardless of the circumstances - were miracles I would forever be thankful for...I just wondered why he couldn't drive the Wilson twins to school every now and then.
And tomorrow, a Sunday just like any other, but there was one big difference...
I was turning fifty.
What surprises would a five year old and a twelve year old have in store for me? I couldn't imagine. I'm sure there would be a Skype date with my beloved who would promise me the world when he returned home and forget everything the second the plane hit the tarmac.
Don't get me wrong, the man tried. When I turned thirty-three he gave me a keychain, at forty-five he gave me an engagement ring; Mulder had evolved.
Maybe he would bring back a giant chocolate tower in the shape of Big Ben.
As the merlot helped ease the bitterness the doorbell rang. I wasn't expecting anyone and my neighbors in our Chantilly neighborhood appreciated quiet moments as much as I did, so I knew they weren't bothering me; but fearing the worst I finished the glass then went to open the door.
There was a limousine out in front of my house with a man in a black suit standing on my porch
"Mrs. Mulder?" he asked
Even after five years I would never be used to being called that and the ache in the pit of my stomach began to grow. "Yes..." I replied my voice trembling.
"I need you to come with me." he said in a very stern tone which made me wish I had brought the rest of the bottle to the door.
"Why?" I asked as I attempted to swallow the lump in my throat, "My children will be home soon."
"Arrangements have been made." he continued his face never cracking
My heart began to beat rapidly...here it was, the day before my birthday and my world was crumbling. Tears began to follow without my permission and the man's eyed widened.
"No ma'am, it's not what you think!" the slightly older overweight, but not much taller than me man called out as he tried to approach me.
I backed away, nothing he said was making sense, how could I tell my children...
My cell phone began to ring.
It was sitting next to the open bottle of wine and I felt as if I had to answer it due to the fact the ring was some horrible Elvis song I didn't know the words to.
"Hello?" I said my tears evident in my voice.
"Just get in the car Scully." Came the voice I needed to hear. Instead of feeling a sense of reassurance I just cried harder. Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was the relief of knowing my husband wasn't dead or maybe it was knowing AARP would start annoying me soon; either way the tears fell and I couldn't stop them.
"You know with the internet and home security I can see you right now." he continued as I bawled, the ability to form words just wasn't something I was capable of right now.
I heard him sigh, loudly, "I made arrangements with Gretchen and Anne to take the kids to your mothers'. Just get in the car." he said in a persistent manner.
"Why?" Finally escaped my quivering lips.
"Because I asked you to."
I nodded, even though I knew he wouldn't know that - but with cameras all over our home - except our bedroom and all bathrooms - he could obviously see it.
"Just don't forget your purse."
I nodded again
"And passport."
"Why?"
The phone went dead. Mulder was known for being eccentric, and he was obviously up to something and sometimes I just had to trust him - well always - so, after capping and putting the wine back in the fridge I grabbed my coat, jacket and keys and followed the driver out to the limousine which I'm sure had all my neighbors gossiping as I walked out to it with my hair in a messy bun complete with mom jeans and flannel oversized top. Hell at least they made a comeback.
For some reason I always kept my passport in my purse, so that was no issue, but due to mother paranoia I had to call my own mother who assured me that yes my children were being dropped off at her home today, but refused to tell me for how long. It was like everyone had a secret they were keeping from me; and I hated it.
The drive to Dulles took less than twenty minutes, the driver pulled up to departures and after opening my door, handed me a black bag.
"Everything you need is in here." he said tipping his hat to me.
Unsure what to do in these instances, I opened my purse to which he stopped me with his hand, "No need, your husband took care of everything."
"Can I ask you one thing?" I said needing to know, "When did he arrange all of this?"
"A month ago." the driver smiled.
"And he couldn't have let me in on any of it. I look like hell."
"You look beautiful ma'am. Have a nice trip."
Grabbing a seat inside the terminal I unzipped the black bag as quickly as possible and pulled out a folder. First class to Paris at 5:10PM on Lufthansa. The rest of the bag contained a second set of contacts, solution, a second set of prescription eye glasses - he covered the necessities, but other than that...
"What the hell!" I exclaimed once he picked up the phone.
"Are you at the airport?" he replied
"Yes, where I get to hang out for four hours before said flight I knew nothing about leaves."
"Do I need to read you Webster's definition of surprise?"
"I have no luggage."
"To strike or occur to with a sudden feeling of wonder or astonishment, as through unexpectedness."
"Mulder..."
"To come upon or discover suddenly and unexpectedly." Mulder continued to rattle on.
"Cut it out!"
"To make an unexpected assault on- no that doesn't fit."
"Mulder stop reading me definitions off the internet!"
"Just making sure you understand all elements of what a surprise is."
"Yes, I do, but why today?
"Because with the flight time and time difference and the sad fact that Dulles only seems to have direct flights TO Paris in the evening you will not be here until tomorrow morning."
"Why Paris?"
"Because it's supposedly the most romantic city in the world and I want to see if it lives up to it's name."
I had to admit, that in and of itself was pretty damn romantic, "Do the kids know?"
"No. I felt it best to keep them in the dark. I didn't even tell your mother until last week via email."
"Ok, well you didn't let me pack. What am I supposed to wear?"
"Nothing."
"Mulder..."
"I've taken care of that. All you have to do is get on and off that plane."
"In four hours."
"I feared if I waited too long you'd wonder where the hell Gretchen and Anne were. By the way, I told them via text yesterday."
"That explains why Gretchen was giggling like an idiot when she picked Missy up."
"I think she giggles all the time anyway. I think we should give her a sobriety test before she drives the kids."
"I'll be sure to remember that." I watched as late arrivers ran by me, "So, what are you doing?"
"Counting the minutes until you are here, and counting the dollars on this phone call."
"I get it." I sighed, "I'm sick of this London crap."
"I'll be back March 1st."
"But for how long?"
"We'll talk about that later. Just don't forget to get on that plane."
"I won't."
"I love you."
He said it every day and even though I was unsure why, every time it got to me, "I love you too." I replied sensing the tears were trying to make a comeback.
The line went dead and Call Ended were the words haunting me. Why did I even get an iPhone? Because it meant I could at least iMessage my overseas husband for free. That was the selling point. Even if I still missed my Blackberry.
December 22, 2012 the world was supposed to end. We waited...and it didn't happen. No explosions, no aliens...nothing. Our jobs were to monitor the WORLD in case the date had changed and we just didn't know about it. No movement here, there...but for some reason Mulder was constantly "dispatched" to England to meet with the people over there 'monitoring' Europe. Sometimes I wondered if it was all for want. Sure, we said we worked for the bureau and got all holidays including Columbus Day off, but we were actually working for a world wide agency...I felt like a spy without the fancy cover story.
To kill some time I went through the rest of my bag. I would be leaving Monday afternoon. Seriously TWO DAYS in Paris, and not even full days. My guess is he had too much to do before returning home. Unfortunately, he never told me exactly what he was doing, either he couldn't or didn't want to and I had to respect that. I spent my days looking at tissue samples and blood tests and he never asked what I found - which to this day was absolutely nothing.
After playing various mindless games on my phone, eventually check in time had arrived. After that came boarding which was almost instantaneous given I had first glass to which I took full advantage of. Glass of champagne, and another, hoping I could get a good nights sleep because I intended to take full advantage of my time in Paris and with a man who, even after over twenty years, I still wasn't sick of.
Fifty
The plane hit the tarmac and as my eyes popped open that was the first thing that jumped into my head. I'm now officially fifty.
Even at home it was after midnight and I was still fifty
I never asked my mother what time I was actually born, because I didn't think it mattered, so for all I knew on February 23, 1964 at precisely 12:00AM EST Dana Katherine Scully came into the world.
What the hell.
The flight attendants proceeded to alert everyone that it we had arrived in Paris, France that it was currently four degrees Celsius - thirty nine Fahrenheit - and precisely seven am.
Customs was a nightmare. If you have no luggage, are only staying one night and don't know which hotel you're staying at they will hold you in a small room until you spill your guts. Thankfully I had a nice Parisian woman interrogating me and once I told her it was a surprise from my husband for my fiftieth birthday - and she confirmed it on my passport AND Virginia driver's license - she informed me I did not look my age and to have a happy anniversaire. I quickly grabbed my purse, bag and fled as fast as I could to the pickup area outside baggage claim. More than anything I wanted a shower, but the second I saw the face of the man I hadn't laid eyes on since January 10th, I regained strength in my tired legs and ran to him.
Luckily the bags were over my shoulder tightly enough that I didn't drop them as my arms wrapped around his neck so tightly my coat fell to the curbside. I didn't care if I was freezing, tired or jetlagged, I was in Paris with the man I loved and that was all that mattered.
As cheesy and pathetic as it sounded, I was happy.
"That took longer than I expected." Mulder said as he opened the door to yet another limousine.
"I was detained in customs." I said getting into the back of the gas guzzling automobile.
"I was afraid that would happen." he replied getting in after me and closing the door, "But they let you go."
"Yes." I sighed, "Thankfully."
"Good. And because I knew you'd ask I called your mother on my way in, the kids arrived just fine and are being spoiled rotten as always."
"Lovely. Right now I just want to burn my clothes."
"We'll handle that later." he smirked, "Get some more rest...you're going to need it."
I couldn't sleep, and as it was the trip from the airport to our hotel was less than an hour. The driver stopped at the Shangri-La Hotel I was shocked and amazed to see the Eiffel Tower staring right at me along as I got out in front of the luxury hotel with a ridiculous name.
Luckily Mulder had already checked in before I arrived and at the end of the hallway on the seventh floor the door opened to a dead-on view of the that same gorgeous tower.
I couldn't move. My body froze at the sight of it. Without missing a beat Mulder wrapped his arms around my waist, pulled me against him and said, "Happy Birthday, Dana." before kissing me on the top of my grungy head.
Taking my left hand he stepped ahead of me, forcing me to walk a few inches before he could close the door behind me.
"Is it everything you expected?" he asked
All I could do was nod, "And then some."
I then took in my surroundings. Large bed, large flat screen TV, terrace with a dead on view of that metal tower of beauty. Even from the doorway I could tell the bathroom had to be as beautiful as the rest of the room
"Every little girls dream..." I continued as I walked in a daze towards the terrycloth robe which hung in the entry way to the bathroom where I was welcomed with a large deep tub and a bidet.
Mulder was sitting on the easy chair in the middle of the room waiting for me to exit the bathroom.
"Does it fit your standards?" he smirked.
"I'm going to take a bath."
"Ok..."
"I'm going to take a long bath."
"I figured as much..."
"Where I won't be interrupted by 'who took the remote' or 'the last cookie' or 'who looked at whom funny'. I am going to relax!"
"Good." he smiled, "I'll be waiting."
"But I do have one question?"
"What's that?"
"Do I have ANY clothes?"
He merely nodded, "Check the closet, and the dresser."
Like a child in a candy store I rushed to the closet where I was greeted with dresses, and blouses, and skirts and slacks.
Channel, Christian Dior and names I didn't recognize, but the clothes were to die for. Shoes to match, mostly black pumps, but there was a knee high three inch heeled set of black boots thrown in there as well.
The dresser contained La Perla lingerie along with other designer under things I could just picture a man in his early fifties picking out on in the little boutiques of Paris.
"How?" I asked picking up a lacy black teddy that left little to the imagination.
"Pay people enough and they will fill closets and dresser drawers before your arrival. Before you ask, yes I picked out everything myself so if you hate any of it well...tough."
"It's all beautiful, but you know I can't wear this at home.."
"There's a two piece Victoria's Secret flannel set in the bottom drawer."
At this point in time all the thank yous in the world wouldn't be enough. I could feel the tears wanting to break free again and it was all I could do to shut the door and run into the bathroom, where a set of lavender bubble bath, salts and shampoo and conditioner awaited me. The man really thought of everything.
I wasn't even sure how long I had been in the bath before I finally felt the want to get out, and by then the water had become too cold to comfortably relax in. Shockingly enough I never heard the TV come on while I was in there and when I exited wearing the terry cloth robe and a towel over my wet tresses I fully expected to find my husband asleep on the king-size bed. Instead he was on the terrace with two glasses of what I could only assume were mimosas, some croissants and a large bowl of strawberries.
"You know you can stop." I said walking out to the chilly terrace, "You've already won husband of the year."
"I'm going for decade." he said picking up a mimosa glass and handing it to me, "And then century."
Shaking my head I took the glass from him, "You do realize it's freezing out here..."
"But it's romantic."
"I appreciate the sentiment, but I'd rather feel my toes."
Mulder nodded and picked up the tray of food, "E for effort?"
"Most definitely."
I didn't remember passing out, but clearly the jetlag, bread, fruit and champagne had gotten to me. When I awoke on the white bedspread my hair was dry and my husband was in different clothes, fully shaved and playing on his tablet at the desk at the end of the room.
"What time is it?" I asked running my fingers through my long matted hair.
Mulder looked at his watch, "Half past noon."
"Why did you let me sleep so long?"
"It was only a couple of hours and clearly you needed it." he turned off the tablet and placed it on the table, "Are you still tired?"
I felt hazy, but not tired, "No." I replied, "I'm sorry I fell asleep."
"It's your birthday. You can do whatever you want."
Honestly, all I wanted to do was relax. Even though I was in the most beautiful, romantic city in the world all I really wanted was to lie in bed all day with a good book, but I was in freaking Paris; there was more to life than English literature.
"I assume you have an agenda..." I eyed him as he sat on the wooden chair playing innocent.
Mulder shrugged, "There's a spa, where you can get a massage or any sort of beauty treatment you want. There's a gym, if working out is what you have in mind..."
"I was thinking of something outside the hotel?"
"There's an entire city full of things to do. I tried looking into them, but they either seemed over the top, not good enough, or are currently destroying a bridge with padlock sentiment."
I nodded, and looked back out at the giant symbol of Paris, "We could always just explore the city?"
"Would doing it from a horse drawn carriage be too over the top?"
"Maybe when I was forty-nine." I grinned.
Mulder nodded, "You get dressed, I'll make the arrangements."
Generally such tours are scheduled at least three days in advance, but Mulder was able to get them to make an exception - and luckily they had a cancellation - and by two thirty pm we were in the back of a horse drawn carriage with a bottle of more champagne for a ninety minute tour of some of the best parts of Paris. Ok, the touristy parts, and I was only here for less than two days and quite honestly wanted to spend a majority of that time in bed with my husband screaming in passion in ways I haven't been able to in over five years.
After a brisk, but pleasant and romantic trip by the Eiffel Tower, Arc de Triomphe and Champs Elysées, we arrived back at the hotel by four. No photos taken; mental photographs were all I needed.
I only had less than two hours before our six pm reservations at Le Jules Verne, an superb hotel on the second level of the Eiffel Tower itself. Mulder wanted us dining while the sun was setting and at this point in the trip I started to wonder if he wrote romance novels on the side. Wearing a sleeveless black satin dress, which went down to my ankles, but had a nice slit up the left side, and matching four inch black pumps I let Mulder put the matching black sweater over my shoulders before he, in black suit and black tie, led me out of the hotel room to the elevator.
Wearing two hundred dollar lingerie made me feel much sexier than it should have. My hair in ringlets, one unruly strawberry blonde bastard continued to pop into my line of sight. I tried blowing it away, tucking it behind my ear, but it wasn't until Mulder tucked it behind my ear while seeming to intertwine it with other strands that I felt a shiver go from my ear, directly down my spine...a shiver I hadn't felt in oh so many years...even as the elevator door opened I found myself unable to walk.
"Are you ok?" he asked after stepping into the elevator, turning and seeing that I hadn't moved an inch.
"Is it wrong...for me to want to say to hell with these reservations and just spend the rest of the night in bed screaming out your name in ways I haven't screamed it in years?"
I could sense his pulse heighten from my words alone, but after a moment he shook his head and said, "No, but we should at least have a decent meal first."
Fine dining for me lately had been a slew of chain restaurants where my children had a wide selection of dishes to choose from and would still poke at their food. At this fine establishment one had five dishes to choose from. Five. As I perused the menu I began to miss the wide selection at TGI Fridays
"I know..." Mulder was saying without even having to look up from the menu, "I should have checked the menu first."
I couldn't help but smile at the fact he knew what I was thinking without even having to ask. "Foie gras is just abhorrent." Given it was the first thing on the menu, that was instantly where my mind went.
"Then don't get it." he replied flatly, "Fish. They have fish."
I nodded in agreement and closed the menu, "I don't even want to think about how much this is costing us."
"Don't worry about it." he said closing his own menu as we waited for the server to acknowledge us. "It's not every day I have the chance to spoil you."
"I appreciate it." I replied, and I did, even if - at the moment - I had a hard time showing it.
Mulder ordered for us in French, which was much better than mine, and even though I'd heard him speak it many times for many years it still impressed me. Along with our seared turbot and shellfish with seaweed butter, he ordered a 1988 Gerard Bertrand Rivesaltes which the waiter presented to him before opening and filling our glasses.
"A toast." Mulder said holding up his glass and nodding for me to do the same, which I did, "To the woman who has stood by me, supported me and gave me everything I could ever want - even if I had to wait a really long time to get it. For the last twenty two years you have never given up on me, even if you should have, never turned away or looked back. Thank you, Dana, for being my everything."
All I could do was nod and clink my glass with his. We sat there in silence for a bit with our twenty-six year old glasses of wine and a wondrous view of a setting sun. You can actually be with a person so long you don't feel the need to talk much anymore, as if the other person knows what you're thinking or is so comfortable with you that no words need be spoken. This had been our relationship for the last couple of years, other than talking about the kids our lives had become pretty sedentary. Not the constant jumping on planes to various destinations multiple times a month, seeing things that could never and or would never be explained and the constant possibility of being kidnapped, maimed or killed. We were now desk jockeys, and didn't even carry guns. We had them, but they remained locked away at the office and at home. The first few years after we had William back in our lives were difficult, and he didn't really care for us. He ran away a few times, and given I had an infant child to care for made the situation even harder. His adopted parents were killed in a car accident when he was five and after being in foster care for more than a year we were reunited with him the Christmas of 2008 - a month after my second child was born. He resented her, he resented us - me - for giving him up and we attended many therapy sessions in the last five years. He was better, but he was still angry and I feared he always would be and during those tough times no firearms were allowed in my home. As it was I still kept them locked in a firebox in another safe. If someone were to break in, we'd have a hell of a time getting to our weapons. But that was the price I was willing to pay to protect my son.
"You've been quiet too long." Mulder said breaking my mental trip down memory lane.
I nodded and looked at him, "Just thinking of...our life."
"It's had it's moments." he said, "Regrets?"
"Not one." I smiled and took another sip of wine, I was never a wine connoisseur and couldn't tell the difference between a 1940 Pinot Noir or a box of Franzi, but this stuff was rich and was going right to my head. "When did you get in?" I asked wanting to keep the conversation going.
"Last night. I wanted to make sure your plane took off before I hopped the train. Just takes a little over five hours to get here where I got some much needed sleep and I can now admit I did all the shopping last weekend and placed it all nicely and neatly in the drawers and closet. I didn't want to admit that for fear you'd expect the same treatment at home."
"I think I know you well enough. If a t-shirt left on the bathroom floor set me off that much I would have left you long ago."
"Good to know I have other attributes worth sticking around for."
"Very much so." I snickered taking another sip as I tried to wait patiently for my dinner,"You know, I don't feel fifty."
"I don't feel fifty two." He picked up his glass and took a sip as well, "I feel eighty."
We never much talked about it. We didn't want to. Our children were miracles. They were our miracles, but they were different because we were different. I had a metallic chip in the back of my neck that could never be removed for fear of death reminding me every day how different I was from every other person on the street and not one test had shown me I was not alone in this world. Mulder had been experimented on like a lab rat by people thinking they could make themselves immune to the end of the world, then saved by those believed to eventually destroy everything we knew. Nothing happened. Nothing was planned to happen, but it didn't stop me from feeling like some mutant every time I scratched an itch on the back of my neck.
"William's class is supposed to go on an overnight field trip to Gettysburg next month." I said.
Mulder nodded, "Are we sure that's ok?"
I shrugged, "He hasn't hit anyone since enrolling him in the academy."
Mulder nodded again, "I guess it's ok."
We tried public school, but that didn't work. Too many kids, and given his history William needed more hands on teaching. He was smart and became easily bored and disruptive. In the fifth grade, Jason Jenson took his pencil and William gave the kid a black eye. He was expelled. Apparently the school had a no tolerance policy to which Mulder stated "I would have never gotten through grammar school."
After that our only choices were private school or boarding school which I was not going to allow. Browne Academy was sadly an hour away, but coincidentally not far from Mulder's old apartment - and even though they knew his history, his grades and aptitude tests got him in. With therapy and weekend family trips to the beach, Kings Dominion and other places around the state - as well as a drive up to New York for a Yankees game he had gotten better. He had become more trusting. He realized we weren't going to leave him on the side of the road. I used the universal 'we' even though it was 'I' who was to blame.
Since Mulder had been away so much I expected the behavior problems to start again, but being in basketball, baseball and hockey kept him busy - and hockey was a very good way for the boy to get his aggressions out. He was usually beat by the time he arrived home and if anything I was thankful that after dinner all he wanted to do was his homework and go to bed. I knew Mulder's traveling was for the greater good, but I missed him...his children missed him...and I had trouble sleeping alone.
Before my mind could depress me any longer our food thankfully arrived and the white fish with seaweed actually looked more appealing than I had initially thought it would.
The meal was delightful, and rich and ended with a very indulgent dark chocolate croissant which tasted exquisite with the rest of the bottle of wine.
I was fed, I was inebriated and I was happy. I was living in the moment as we walked back to the hotel hand in hand I felt like a young couple in love, not a married mother of two who had just turned the age my mother was when she first became a grandmother.
"I want to do the lock thing." I said to my husband
"What? Why. It's tacky and it's destroying a bridge."
"But it's romantic and I want to come back twenty years from now when we're old and senile and see if its still there."
"The bridge might not even be there another five years let alone twenty years."
"Come on Mulder..."
He nodded and sighed, "Fine. The one time you want to do something just because everyone else does."
We purchased a gold lock, with two gold keys and a black Sharpie. We could have gone the traditional route, but instead we simply wrote Mulder & Scully. Because that's who we would forever be to one another.
Even if he called me Dana a lot more than I was used to lately.
And cringed every time my mother called him Fox.
I was still not allowed to call him by his first name, even if it did slip out during certain circumstances.
We grabbed a cab and under a half moon we walked hand in hand to the Pont des Arts bridge, found a spot for our lock and put it in place before each tossing a key in to the Seine.
Without missing a beat I wrapped my hands around his neck and pulled his lips to mine. Hard...harder and fuller than I initially intended and as the kiss intensified and his hands found his way to my waist I realized exactly how much I had missed him over the last four weeks. I forced myself to stop and he didn't question, just grabbed my hand and we ran back to the awaiting cab as fast as my four inch heels would let me.
In a dark apartment in the first year of the new century I found myself alone and frightened. Frightened over feelings that had been developing for someone who had been my best friend, my partner, the one key person in my life for the last eight years. If I had a cold, he was the first one there with soup. If he was alone on Christmas I made sure he had a place to go. He was the first person I thought of when I woke up in the morning and he last person I thought of before I fell asleep at night and now here I was with a need and desire that terrified me to the core. At that very moment I had two choices. I could go to him, confess my desires and give him my heart, or I could run and keep running for another eight years. Instead I went with my heart and as I lay here now, over a decade later as his fingertips brushed against my skin, and his gentle kisses sent shivers down my spine I knew without a shadow of a doubt that I had made the right choice.
Morning came much too quickly. The morning sun blinded me as the clock reminded me that the hours I had left here were quickly dwindling. It was only a little after eight in the morning and my flight was leaving at two. I would be back home with my children before the six o'clock news and as much as I missed them, having to wait until Saturday to see my husband again was just too much to bear.
The expensive dress lay on the floor by the door, next to the shoes and the lingerie that cost more than my father's first car. I took the robe off the hook and put it on, brushing my rats nest of a head of hair out of my face before opening the doors to the terrace. The cold air hit like I walked into a freezer, but the tears falling down my face worked as a liquid barrier from the frigid temps. It wasn't that I didn't want to leave this beautiful city; I just didn't want to be apart anymore. I couldn't ask him to quit, the bureau was all he had known for longer than I had known him. He was brilliant and could teach, but it wouldn't give him the same satisfaction. Sure he didn't have the same fulfillment of a record of closed cases, but he went to work every day knowing he was making a difference. At least that's what he told me and truth be told that even though I appreciated the time I spent in pediatric neurology, it was a good change for my own well being to no longer have a child die because I couldn't save it. Regardless of all the ones I had saved, it was those I couldn't that ate away at me. Like a constant reminder of how I couldn't protect my own son.
"Isn't it freezing out there?" I heard Mulder call out from inside the room.
I quickly wiped away my tears and took a moment before returning into the much warmer hotel room and closing the doors behind me.
"You know it was actually in the sixties at home yesterday." Mulder said looking at his phone as I returned to the bed and sat cross-legged at the end of it, watching as he played around on his device.
He was laughing at something I was unaware of when he looked up at me and his expression instantly saddened, "What's wrong?"
Apparently you can wipe the tears away, but the evidence of their existence remains, "I have to leave in six hours."
He nodded as he turned off the phone and placed it on the nightstand, "I know. I told you it had to be a short trip. Right after I drop you off at the airport at eleven I have to get on a train back to London."
"I know." I took a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling to prevent the tears from making a return engagement, "I'm just not sure I can do this anymore."
"Do what?" his voice seemed off, like he was preparing for a fight.
"It's just too hard managing the kids alone. I know you have to be in London, but you have responsibilities at home and people who love you and miss you and basketball games and tap and piano recitals and you're missing all of it."
"I know...I know all of this." He took a deep breath as well, "I'm working on it. I promise, but for now this is where I have to be."
I knew he wouldn't give me the answer I wanted, but I knew the answer I wanted could destroy our relationship. We had been through worse, a lot worse, and at least I knew we could survive this. Somehow.
"You just...don't have a secret family stashed in London do you?"
"Like any other woman would put up with me."
"You have that right." I could finally smile again, "Well, we have a couple hours before I have to pack and we have to go back to our separate lives, we might as well make the most of them."
"You read my mind."
Lunch was a quick bite at the airport, Mulder stayed with me until I had to go through security. All of the purchased clothes, minus the ones I was wearing, were packed up in a new suitcase along with the ones I arrived in - which I still wanted to burn. A lot of the women on our block would be happy as hell to have their husbands gone for four weeks at a time, but they didn't share the special relationship we did. They weren't genetically manipulated mutants as I said in the Valentine's Day card I gave him a year earlier.
The clock was ticking and soon we would have to part. I finished my salad as slowly as I could before I felt the pressure and just pushed it away. I didn't want to cry again; I didn't want my children to see me broken.
"It's time." Mulder said standing up and picking up the rest of my salad and taking it to the refuse bin. He sighed and took my new Longchamp bag and then my hand and walked me to the TSA area. He handed me my bag then ran his hands through his hair like he was nervous, but shook it off and kissed me goodbye
As I walked to security I heard him call my name and I turned.
"What? I asked walking back to him.
"Did you really like it here?"
"Of course I did."
"The city, the people, the food..."
"Yes, kind of, a little..."
"They have really good schools here..."
"Mulder, what are you getting at?"
"They want me to move here."
"Here?"
Mulder nodded, "Here. France."
"WHY!"
"Because I speak the language, I understand the customs...I just wanted to make sure you liked it too."
Too much was hitting me at once, "You expect us to leave everything we know, EVERYONE we know and just-" I looked down at the floor, shook my head and before I could stop myself I said it.
"Yes."
To be continued...