Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not own X-Files, Mulder, Scully or any of that amazing alternative reality. It all belongs to 1013 productions. No profit made, I only publish for entertainment purposes ^_^
I sit in my chair across from you, with only your desk (you still haven't gotten me one) separating us, and watch you talk. I don't actually listen to your words: I already know everything you have to say about alien abductions and government conspiracies. Instead, I watch your lips and think of the relationship we share.
It's been six years. Six years since I walked into your little basement office, a woman sent to spy on you and to slowly destroy your work. And your spirit. I knew what they wanted and being the rookie agent I was eager to please. But then I went on that fateful trip with you to Oregon and all my plans for a great personal career fell through the floor.
I smile as memories flood me. Walking into your room, dressed only in a light robe, I fully expected you to take advantage of my fragile state of mind and use my body to your pleasure. When you didn't, I felt… small, insignificant. Undesirable. I had heard of your ways to charm women into your bed, and when you didn't take me, I was mortified that you did not think me desirable and interesting enough. I knew I was small in more ways than one, but never before had I been turned away. Thus my reputation as a house wrecker, the younger woman, the enigmatic Ice Queen.
It wasn't until later that I realised that it had been a complement. Your way of saying that you weren't attracted so much by my body, but my mind. Your way of saying that you trusted me with your soul. Your way of saying that you wanted more than mindless sex and instead wanted me to stay with you, working on the X-Files. You were holding me close, just like that night.
Just how was I supposed to be selfish?
From that initial moment, we had become close friends and for you I turned my back on my assignment and my career. Instead of destroying your work along with yourself, I resorted to simply preventing you from going overboard with your theories, forcing you to come up with proofs and evidence. I kept you honest and kept you in the FBI with my efforts.
I was your one in five billion.
I realize now that despite pretending to be oblivious, you had always kept out an eye for me. That the feel of your hand on my back was not only for guidance down known and unknown corridors, but to cover my back, figuratively and literally. The kisses you placed on top of my head not only to be physically close, but to keep me from destroying my own sanity, to control my grief, to allow me to feel loved.
Over the years you always looked out for me, cared for me, helped me through my hardest moments. Through cancer, through the discovery of Emily and her death, through my second abduction to Antarctica. Since that day I have believed almost everything you have ever told me about extraterrestrials and abductions and a million other things, but I still pretend not to, so that we can keep arguing and I can calmly watch you with no risk of being discovered.
I can see the darkness in your eyes, and know that it is not only interest in the case, but something deeper and I am scared. Again, who am I lying to when I say you feel none of what I feel for you?
Maybe one day, when I pretend to fall asleep on your couch and you will go to your bed to sleep, I will finally have the courage to join you, so that I can and love all your fears away.
And maybe one day we will walk out of a movie theatre holding hands without worrying about FBI protocol.
And maybe one day, only you and I and another child like Emily will be the only things on our minds.
One day, we may live happily every after.
Author's Note: Please R&R, we all crave recognition. This is my first published story, so don't be too harsh. All constructive criticism is more than welcome though – I do want to get better. Thanks.