Title: Defining A Life
Author: Lynn Saunders
Website: http://www.angelfire.com/scifi2/lynnsaundersfanfic
Email: lynnsaundersfanfic@hotmail.com
Distribution: I do Gossamer/Ephemeral/Spookys myself. Yes
to The Next Files (if you want it). Basically, if you want it,
you got it. Just let me know where you put it. I like to visit
my babies.
Rating: a very tame PG-13
Classification: Other POV, Post-series Fic, D/Other Friendship,
Implied MSR (but, hey, the whole series implied MSR)
Spoilers: "The Truth" and "William" mostly, plus the baby story in
general.
Keywords: Vignette, Other POV, William
Summary: It has been said that a person's life comes down to
just a few very important days.
Submission Date: 1.1.03
SPECIAL THANKS:
This is for all of my beloved listies at IWTB and Beyond the
Sea. Thanks for inspiring me to branch out.
To my very awesome beta team-- Elsie, Mo, Jen, and Danielle--
candy-coated Mulders to all of you sweeties. Thanks for putting
up with me!
AUTHOR'S NOTES:
I have no idea where this one came from. It isn't anything like
what I normally write, so feedback is especially appreciated. Let
me know if you like what you see. You might see more sooner or
later, depending.
The story is set in the summer of 2002. It is assumed that the
events of "William" occurred in late March/early April 2002,
and the events of "The Truth" occurred in May 2002.
FEEDBACK: Stalk me! Please! lynnsaundersfanfic@hotmail.com
Disclaimer: All characters from "The X-Files" belong to
Chris Carter, Fox Network, and 1013 Productions. No Copyright
infringement is intended.
Believe me, I do not make money from my fan fiction addiction.
I'm claiming the main character in this fic. She is my invention
and is not representative of any actual persons or other
characters.
* * * * * *
Defining A Life (1/1)
Lynn Saunders
* * * * * *
As heavy raindrops pelt the window of the bustling cafe, she
gazes out at the small southern town that she has called home
for thirty years now. The afternoon thunderstorm, so common
to Georgia summers, has not kept the crowds at home. In front
of the feed store, a robust farmer unloads baskets of tomatoes
from the back of a rusty Ford pickup while his faithful
companion, a beautiful yellow labrador, waits patiently in
the front seat. The man's hat appears to be almost as old as
his truck and offers little protection from the weather.
Across the street, a distracted mother with two toddlers in
tow struggles up the post office steps. One of the little
ones, a girl, she thinks, laughs with delight as two teenage
boys rocket past on their bicycles. The old man's dog barks.
"Hailey?" He awaits her answer.
Silently, she turns her attention to the man seated opposite
her at the oak table. He looks rougher than she recalls,
somewhat sad. The glass of tea in front of him remains full.
He has ordered no food. His blue eyes search hers for a
decision.
She remembers flying through the air on the old oak tree's
tire swing, running barefoot across dewy meadows to catch
evening fireflies, and skinny dipping at the fishing hole
on summer nights. The boy next door has changed a great
deal in his absence.
He is looking at her with his most intense
expression, the one she used to tease him about when they
were young. She knows now, though, the situation could not
be more serious.
She runs her fingers over the photograph John slid across
the table a half hour ago. In it are the two most strikingly
beautiful people she has ever seen. They stand behind a large
desk covered with stacks of files and papers. One file in
particular seems to be of importance, for it is open before
them, its contents spread out for easy viewing. The woman
studies the file before her, both hands gripping the edge of
the desk as she leans in for a closer look. Her fiery hair
is tucked neatly behind her ears, so it fails to obscure her
raised eyebrow and skeptical expression. Beside her, the man
wears a lopsided grin and appears to be whispering a secret,
for his eyes display a mischievous twinkle. Obviously,
neither are aware that they are being photographed. They are
happy, healthy and comfortable. They are in love.
"It's an old picture, but the best that I could do," John had
explained as he offered her the photo. 'Old' is an
understatement. "5.23.00" is printed in the bottom right-hand
corner. Apparently, the events of the past two years have
made pictures of the couple hard to come by, but she does not
want the details yet. He will give her only the information
she needs to make a decision. Right now, the less she knows,
the better.
She re-reads the newspaper clipping on the table. The names
and phone numbers have been removed.
Help wanted. Basic farming and livestock skills
required. Room and board plus stipend.
"Wyoming?"
He clears his throat, then nods.
There is no question that she is extremely over-qualified for
the position requested. She will be an opportunity that cannot
be refused. She needs only to make a decision.
She studies the couple again, wondering who the child looks
like. The image of a small boy with red hair and blue eyes
forms in her mind. She often has visions or premonitions and
wonders if this is one. She is curious. Is the picture she
has created in her mind correct?
She cannot imagine the strength it must take for a woman to
give up a child. She is not sure, had she been in the same
situation, that she would have been able to keep the child's
best interest at heart. Though she has never met the woman in
the photograph, her heart aches with the knowledge that the
woman had to face such a decision on her own.
She imagines them running, this man and woman. They worry
not only about being discovered, but also about their child's
safety. The future is unsure, and they want so much for him to
lead a normal life with the normal people who have happily taken
him into their home. However, they will not hesitate to reunite
with him if it becomes clear that he will always be in danger,
no matter where he is. They need to screen for possible
problems without interfering with their son's new family. Now,
a simple ad in a small-town newspaper provides a way.
It has been said that a person's life comes down to just a few
very important days. She knows from experience that this is
true. She could go even further and say that a life is
defined by a few very important decisions. It is funny how such
decisions have an awful habit of popping up on what would
otherwise appear to be perfectly normal days.
She looks down at the delicate band of gold she continues to
wear out of habit, though it has been two years since Stew
walked out, leaving her standing in the family room of the
house she paid for and pondering the male mind's fixation on
bleached-blonde hair and large breasts. Since then, she has
sold her veterinary practice. It just reminded her too much
of the life she thought she always wanted. Instead, she
has taken a research position. The flexible hours leave
time in the evenings for volunteer work at the local
animal shelter. She finds that hands-on labor is the best
thing for her.
For a long time now, she has known that there is something more
that she is supposed to be doing with her life. She has always
hoped that she will know when she finds it. Now, she thinks
she has. She wants to define her life today. What better way
than to serve others? What better way than to protect a child
from those who would harm him?
She takes one last lingering look out at Main Street, then
turns again to the couple in the photograph. Finally, she raises
her eyes to those of her old friend and gives her answer.
"Yes."
* * * * * *
Stalk me! Please!
lynnsaundersfanfic@hotmail.com
Visit me online at
http://www.angelfire.com/scifi2/lynnsaundersfanfic
Visit Lynn Saunders' Thumbprint of Approval -- my favorite
authors site -- at
http://www.angelfire.com/scifi2/lynnsaundersfanfic/favoriteauthors.html
Author: Lynn Saunders
Website: http://www.angelfire.com/scifi2/lynnsaundersfanfic
Email: lynnsaundersfanfic@hotmail.com
Distribution: I do Gossamer/Ephemeral/Spookys myself. Yes
to The Next Files (if you want it). Basically, if you want it,
you got it. Just let me know where you put it. I like to visit
my babies.
Rating: a very tame PG-13
Classification: Other POV, Post-series Fic, D/Other Friendship,
Implied MSR (but, hey, the whole series implied MSR)
Spoilers: "The Truth" and "William" mostly, plus the baby story in
general.
Keywords: Vignette, Other POV, William
Summary: It has been said that a person's life comes down to
just a few very important days.
Submission Date: 1.1.03
SPECIAL THANKS:
This is for all of my beloved listies at IWTB and Beyond the
Sea. Thanks for inspiring me to branch out.
To my very awesome beta team-- Elsie, Mo, Jen, and Danielle--
candy-coated Mulders to all of you sweeties. Thanks for putting
up with me!
AUTHOR'S NOTES:
I have no idea where this one came from. It isn't anything like
what I normally write, so feedback is especially appreciated. Let
me know if you like what you see. You might see more sooner or
later, depending.
The story is set in the summer of 2002. It is assumed that the
events of "William" occurred in late March/early April 2002,
and the events of "The Truth" occurred in May 2002.
FEEDBACK: Stalk me! Please! lynnsaundersfanfic@hotmail.com
Disclaimer: All characters from "The X-Files" belong to
Chris Carter, Fox Network, and 1013 Productions. No Copyright
infringement is intended.
Believe me, I do not make money from my fan fiction addiction.
I'm claiming the main character in this fic. She is my invention
and is not representative of any actual persons or other
characters.
* * * * * *
Defining A Life (1/1)
Lynn Saunders
* * * * * *
As heavy raindrops pelt the window of the bustling cafe, she
gazes out at the small southern town that she has called home
for thirty years now. The afternoon thunderstorm, so common
to Georgia summers, has not kept the crowds at home. In front
of the feed store, a robust farmer unloads baskets of tomatoes
from the back of a rusty Ford pickup while his faithful
companion, a beautiful yellow labrador, waits patiently in
the front seat. The man's hat appears to be almost as old as
his truck and offers little protection from the weather.
Across the street, a distracted mother with two toddlers in
tow struggles up the post office steps. One of the little
ones, a girl, she thinks, laughs with delight as two teenage
boys rocket past on their bicycles. The old man's dog barks.
"Hailey?" He awaits her answer.
Silently, she turns her attention to the man seated opposite
her at the oak table. He looks rougher than she recalls,
somewhat sad. The glass of tea in front of him remains full.
He has ordered no food. His blue eyes search hers for a
decision.
She remembers flying through the air on the old oak tree's
tire swing, running barefoot across dewy meadows to catch
evening fireflies, and skinny dipping at the fishing hole
on summer nights. The boy next door has changed a great
deal in his absence.
He is looking at her with his most intense
expression, the one she used to tease him about when they
were young. She knows now, though, the situation could not
be more serious.
She runs her fingers over the photograph John slid across
the table a half hour ago. In it are the two most strikingly
beautiful people she has ever seen. They stand behind a large
desk covered with stacks of files and papers. One file in
particular seems to be of importance, for it is open before
them, its contents spread out for easy viewing. The woman
studies the file before her, both hands gripping the edge of
the desk as she leans in for a closer look. Her fiery hair
is tucked neatly behind her ears, so it fails to obscure her
raised eyebrow and skeptical expression. Beside her, the man
wears a lopsided grin and appears to be whispering a secret,
for his eyes display a mischievous twinkle. Obviously,
neither are aware that they are being photographed. They are
happy, healthy and comfortable. They are in love.
"It's an old picture, but the best that I could do," John had
explained as he offered her the photo. 'Old' is an
understatement. "5.23.00" is printed in the bottom right-hand
corner. Apparently, the events of the past two years have
made pictures of the couple hard to come by, but she does not
want the details yet. He will give her only the information
she needs to make a decision. Right now, the less she knows,
the better.
She re-reads the newspaper clipping on the table. The names
and phone numbers have been removed.
Help wanted. Basic farming and livestock skills
required. Room and board plus stipend.
"Wyoming?"
He clears his throat, then nods.
There is no question that she is extremely over-qualified for
the position requested. She will be an opportunity that cannot
be refused. She needs only to make a decision.
She studies the couple again, wondering who the child looks
like. The image of a small boy with red hair and blue eyes
forms in her mind. She often has visions or premonitions and
wonders if this is one. She is curious. Is the picture she
has created in her mind correct?
She cannot imagine the strength it must take for a woman to
give up a child. She is not sure, had she been in the same
situation, that she would have been able to keep the child's
best interest at heart. Though she has never met the woman in
the photograph, her heart aches with the knowledge that the
woman had to face such a decision on her own.
She imagines them running, this man and woman. They worry
not only about being discovered, but also about their child's
safety. The future is unsure, and they want so much for him to
lead a normal life with the normal people who have happily taken
him into their home. However, they will not hesitate to reunite
with him if it becomes clear that he will always be in danger,
no matter where he is. They need to screen for possible
problems without interfering with their son's new family. Now,
a simple ad in a small-town newspaper provides a way.
It has been said that a person's life comes down to just a few
very important days. She knows from experience that this is
true. She could go even further and say that a life is
defined by a few very important decisions. It is funny how such
decisions have an awful habit of popping up on what would
otherwise appear to be perfectly normal days.
She looks down at the delicate band of gold she continues to
wear out of habit, though it has been two years since Stew
walked out, leaving her standing in the family room of the
house she paid for and pondering the male mind's fixation on
bleached-blonde hair and large breasts. Since then, she has
sold her veterinary practice. It just reminded her too much
of the life she thought she always wanted. Instead, she
has taken a research position. The flexible hours leave
time in the evenings for volunteer work at the local
animal shelter. She finds that hands-on labor is the best
thing for her.
For a long time now, she has known that there is something more
that she is supposed to be doing with her life. She has always
hoped that she will know when she finds it. Now, she thinks
she has. She wants to define her life today. What better way
than to serve others? What better way than to protect a child
from those who would harm him?
She takes one last lingering look out at Main Street, then
turns again to the couple in the photograph. Finally, she raises
her eyes to those of her old friend and gives her answer.
"Yes."
* * * * * *
Stalk me! Please!
lynnsaundersfanfic@hotmail.com
Visit me online at
http://www.angelfire.com/scifi2/lynnsaundersfanfic
Visit Lynn Saunders' Thumbprint of Approval -- my favorite
authors site -- at
http://www.angelfire.com/scifi2/lynnsaundersfanfic/favoriteauthors.html