Apparitions II- Thoughts
By Sandee
*****
Details in part One
For missing parts, visit: www.geocities.com/surefinewhatever00/
SUMMARY: Mulder has a little discussion with himself
DISCLAIMER: Mulder, Scully and their souls and thoughts and beings belong to
the Lords at 1013 and Fox
*****
"For me, Saturday is the most annoying day of the week.
"First of all, there's no work. Work is over. There's stuff I bring home, but
my insomnia takes care of that. at three in the morning, everything's done. So
I surf the Internet. Until about 5 AM. It's sick. I think I have seen
every model available. And you will not believe how much junk I send Scully.
"Short, succinct, three-to-five word messages.
"S- I'm up late. Just checking. CU on Mon. -M
"So maybe that was a little more than five words. But I sometimes I think I
send her more signals than I intend to. It's because I don't intend to send
her signals. It is only incidental. What I really am set out to do is push
her away.
"And by pushing her away, I am saving myself from a lifetime of heartbreak.
"Okay?" I say indignantly to the little boy on my desk. The little boy is
me. That's what I looked like when I was ten.
He nods at me, knowingly. "I know."
I glare at him and stand from where I was seated on the couch. I enter
my bedroom and begin to change into running clothes. The little kid follows
me.
"Jogging pants, gray shirt and jacket, right?" he says, entering my closet
and my thoughts. He throws out the said items of clothing and tells me to
put them on.
I am a profiler. Why don't I understand this guy?
I don the clothes and tell him sharply: "You don't think you're going
jogging like that, do you?"
The kid shakes his head... and pulls a set of clothes just like mine out of
the closet. I laugh bitterly at him, quietly.
"Don't laugh," he says.
"What?" I ask him quietly. "You think you're going to fit into that? I
didn't even know that I had another pair of jogging pants."
It's odd, the way he looks at me. A bit guiltily, a bit sadly, a bit amused.
He dons the clothes. They don't fit. He looks at me. "Excuse me," he
slurs through his braces. God, I hated those.
He enters the bathroom... and later emerges looking just like me. As tall as
me, as wide as me, but sans the braces.
"Ready, Fox?"
Ick. Fox. "You know I hate that name. Why do you still call me that?" I ask
him. He just grins.
"Okay. I'll call you Mulder."
This puzzles me a bit. "Then what should I call you? And you haven't answered
my question, yet. Who or what are you?"
The man sighs like a gay horse. But if this guy is me, does this mean I
sigh like a gay horse? I listen to myself sigh. Nope, nope, it's definitely
just him.
"That was mean." He tells me.
"What was mean?"
He snorts at me. God, maybe this was me in the past life: a horse. "I am not
a horse."
"How did you--"
We sit on my bed and he morphs- amazingly -back into a little boy wearing
my outfit. He raises his eyes to mine, and begins to speak in a high,
squeaky little-boy voice. "I am your Thoughts, Fox Mulder. Whatever you
think of, I think of first."
That *is* funny.
"That must mean you thought up the gay horse thing, then."
He smiles forcedly at me. "Yes, I did. I'm the profiler, you know. And
I'm responsible for all your quips, innuendoes and ScullyFantasies."
My mouth drops open. "You? A ten-year-old makes all those up?"
He snorts. "I'm not ten. I'm not even thirty-seven, or however the hell old
you are. But it's the nineteen year old who makes up the fantasies."
"Do you know about them?"
His teeth (enclosed in metal) are exposed with his grin. He rubs my
forehead lightly, then draws his hand away. "I know everything you
know, Mulder."
We exit my house and we jog to the park. We round the rotunda in the center
a few times before he leads me off. I follow him.
"Where are we going?" I ask.
He is silent. We jog a few minutes until he stops in the middle of the park,
at a secluded bench. We sit at the bench and he produces a bag of
sunflower seeds. We consume them quietly.
Finally, he speaks.
"I need to ask you something, Mulder."
I spit a shell into the wastebasket beside me. "If you know what I'm
thinking before I think it, why do you still need to ask me?"
"I anticipated this response."
"Bet you did."
My Thought sighs. He spits a seed husk over my head and into the bin
without getting a drop of spit on me. I guess now I know why I'm so great
at basketball, even when I was ten, I was a good shot.
"I'm not you when you were ten."
"Okay. What were you going to ask me?"
Taking in a deep breath, he regards me. "Listen. I'm not going to ask you.
I'm going to ask your soul."
"What?"
A tiny growl emits from between his puny lips. "Mulder," he begins
slowly.
"Yes?"
"Don't interrupt. Mulder," he begins again. "I want to ask you why you
haven't told her."
I frown. But I don't interrupt.
"You can answer." He tells me. And I do.
"Because it isn't important. I'm headed for more pain that way, and so is
she. And we don't need that. Not right now. Not ever. It isn't
important."
I see his forehead wrinkle again. "Why is it not important, you're talking
about your destiny here, Mulder. Your soulmate. Your soul is lonely. It needs
a playmate." He explains quietly.
I wrinkle my nose. "Scully... is my soulmate?" I'm not disgusted. I'm
actually quite happy about this revelation. I'm just a little confused. I
mean, how can somebody so smart, so loving, so beautiful, so perfect,
so deserving of so much more... possibly need a screw-up like me?
My Thought rolls his eyes. I don't roll my eyes... that's Scully's job. But
I guess I used to roll them. I don't think I know how to anymore. "Don't
you remember? Don't you understand?"
I glare at him again. "Well, if I don't remember and I don't understand,
that must mean that you don't either, right?"
He just smiles at me. "Sometimes I prevent you from accessing such thoughts.
But here, I'll give you something."
And it begins, like an old 45 in my head.
All the times, ever, that Scully has risked her ass for mine, has shown
me respect and love and that I have just thrown back or given a rude quip
or response to, all the times I have treated he like dirt... but unlike
dirt that washes away with good detergent, she stuck to me...
I open the eyes I never realized closed. My Thought is gone. Maybe he
merged back into me, like he unmerged from me half an hour ago in my
apartment. I think he did.
He thinks he did, too.
And now, there is only one thing left to do.
I run all the way to Scully's building and race up the stairs. No time
for waiting around in elevator, I might change my mind. I need motion, motion
to concentrate on, motion to distract me from my thoughts.
I reach her door and my knock resembles a convulsive hand disorder.
She opens the door, looking a bit disgruntled, like she just woke up from a
long nap. Her eyes are hooded and she gives me a soft smile. It morphs
into worry. "Mulder? What's wrong?"
I enter her apartment and walk a few paces. I breathe in the last air that
will enter my lungs before I express to Scully... whatever.
Wait a minute. What am I going to say?
Instead of words, I opt for action. I spin around, grab her roughly and kiss
her for heavenly minutes. The kiss is magical, real, almost tangible in a way
I have only ever imagined.
She is the one to break away. I look deep into her eyes, and feel her legs
wound around mine, her heat throbbing against me, her breath in my face and
her hands massaging the base of my neck. She is smiling... a little,
soft ScullySmile that melts my insides, turns my brain into green Jell-O and
my dick into steel.
"I knew you'd come..." she whispers and kisses my lightly again.
So did I, the ten-year-old says. So did I.
****
end part II
part three coming soon!
For missing parts, visit: www.geocities.com/surefinewhatever00
By Sandee
*****
Details in part One
For missing parts, visit: www.geocities.com/surefinewhatever00/
SUMMARY: Mulder has a little discussion with himself
DISCLAIMER: Mulder, Scully and their souls and thoughts and beings belong to
the Lords at 1013 and Fox
*****
"For me, Saturday is the most annoying day of the week.
"First of all, there's no work. Work is over. There's stuff I bring home, but
my insomnia takes care of that. at three in the morning, everything's done. So
I surf the Internet. Until about 5 AM. It's sick. I think I have seen
every model available. And you will not believe how much junk I send Scully.
"Short, succinct, three-to-five word messages.
"S- I'm up late. Just checking. CU on Mon. -M
"So maybe that was a little more than five words. But I sometimes I think I
send her more signals than I intend to. It's because I don't intend to send
her signals. It is only incidental. What I really am set out to do is push
her away.
"And by pushing her away, I am saving myself from a lifetime of heartbreak.
"Okay?" I say indignantly to the little boy on my desk. The little boy is
me. That's what I looked like when I was ten.
He nods at me, knowingly. "I know."
I glare at him and stand from where I was seated on the couch. I enter
my bedroom and begin to change into running clothes. The little kid follows
me.
"Jogging pants, gray shirt and jacket, right?" he says, entering my closet
and my thoughts. He throws out the said items of clothing and tells me to
put them on.
I am a profiler. Why don't I understand this guy?
I don the clothes and tell him sharply: "You don't think you're going
jogging like that, do you?"
The kid shakes his head... and pulls a set of clothes just like mine out of
the closet. I laugh bitterly at him, quietly.
"Don't laugh," he says.
"What?" I ask him quietly. "You think you're going to fit into that? I
didn't even know that I had another pair of jogging pants."
It's odd, the way he looks at me. A bit guiltily, a bit sadly, a bit amused.
He dons the clothes. They don't fit. He looks at me. "Excuse me," he
slurs through his braces. God, I hated those.
He enters the bathroom... and later emerges looking just like me. As tall as
me, as wide as me, but sans the braces.
"Ready, Fox?"
Ick. Fox. "You know I hate that name. Why do you still call me that?" I ask
him. He just grins.
"Okay. I'll call you Mulder."
This puzzles me a bit. "Then what should I call you? And you haven't answered
my question, yet. Who or what are you?"
The man sighs like a gay horse. But if this guy is me, does this mean I
sigh like a gay horse? I listen to myself sigh. Nope, nope, it's definitely
just him.
"That was mean." He tells me.
"What was mean?"
He snorts at me. God, maybe this was me in the past life: a horse. "I am not
a horse."
"How did you--"
We sit on my bed and he morphs- amazingly -back into a little boy wearing
my outfit. He raises his eyes to mine, and begins to speak in a high,
squeaky little-boy voice. "I am your Thoughts, Fox Mulder. Whatever you
think of, I think of first."
That *is* funny.
"That must mean you thought up the gay horse thing, then."
He smiles forcedly at me. "Yes, I did. I'm the profiler, you know. And
I'm responsible for all your quips, innuendoes and ScullyFantasies."
My mouth drops open. "You? A ten-year-old makes all those up?"
He snorts. "I'm not ten. I'm not even thirty-seven, or however the hell old
you are. But it's the nineteen year old who makes up the fantasies."
"Do you know about them?"
His teeth (enclosed in metal) are exposed with his grin. He rubs my
forehead lightly, then draws his hand away. "I know everything you
know, Mulder."
We exit my house and we jog to the park. We round the rotunda in the center
a few times before he leads me off. I follow him.
"Where are we going?" I ask.
He is silent. We jog a few minutes until he stops in the middle of the park,
at a secluded bench. We sit at the bench and he produces a bag of
sunflower seeds. We consume them quietly.
Finally, he speaks.
"I need to ask you something, Mulder."
I spit a shell into the wastebasket beside me. "If you know what I'm
thinking before I think it, why do you still need to ask me?"
"I anticipated this response."
"Bet you did."
My Thought sighs. He spits a seed husk over my head and into the bin
without getting a drop of spit on me. I guess now I know why I'm so great
at basketball, even when I was ten, I was a good shot.
"I'm not you when you were ten."
"Okay. What were you going to ask me?"
Taking in a deep breath, he regards me. "Listen. I'm not going to ask you.
I'm going to ask your soul."
"What?"
A tiny growl emits from between his puny lips. "Mulder," he begins
slowly.
"Yes?"
"Don't interrupt. Mulder," he begins again. "I want to ask you why you
haven't told her."
I frown. But I don't interrupt.
"You can answer." He tells me. And I do.
"Because it isn't important. I'm headed for more pain that way, and so is
she. And we don't need that. Not right now. Not ever. It isn't
important."
I see his forehead wrinkle again. "Why is it not important, you're talking
about your destiny here, Mulder. Your soulmate. Your soul is lonely. It needs
a playmate." He explains quietly.
I wrinkle my nose. "Scully... is my soulmate?" I'm not disgusted. I'm
actually quite happy about this revelation. I'm just a little confused. I
mean, how can somebody so smart, so loving, so beautiful, so perfect,
so deserving of so much more... possibly need a screw-up like me?
My Thought rolls his eyes. I don't roll my eyes... that's Scully's job. But
I guess I used to roll them. I don't think I know how to anymore. "Don't
you remember? Don't you understand?"
I glare at him again. "Well, if I don't remember and I don't understand,
that must mean that you don't either, right?"
He just smiles at me. "Sometimes I prevent you from accessing such thoughts.
But here, I'll give you something."
And it begins, like an old 45 in my head.
All the times, ever, that Scully has risked her ass for mine, has shown
me respect and love and that I have just thrown back or given a rude quip
or response to, all the times I have treated he like dirt... but unlike
dirt that washes away with good detergent, she stuck to me...
I open the eyes I never realized closed. My Thought is gone. Maybe he
merged back into me, like he unmerged from me half an hour ago in my
apartment. I think he did.
He thinks he did, too.
And now, there is only one thing left to do.
I run all the way to Scully's building and race up the stairs. No time
for waiting around in elevator, I might change my mind. I need motion, motion
to concentrate on, motion to distract me from my thoughts.
I reach her door and my knock resembles a convulsive hand disorder.
She opens the door, looking a bit disgruntled, like she just woke up from a
long nap. Her eyes are hooded and she gives me a soft smile. It morphs
into worry. "Mulder? What's wrong?"
I enter her apartment and walk a few paces. I breathe in the last air that
will enter my lungs before I express to Scully... whatever.
Wait a minute. What am I going to say?
Instead of words, I opt for action. I spin around, grab her roughly and kiss
her for heavenly minutes. The kiss is magical, real, almost tangible in a way
I have only ever imagined.
She is the one to break away. I look deep into her eyes, and feel her legs
wound around mine, her heat throbbing against me, her breath in my face and
her hands massaging the base of my neck. She is smiling... a little,
soft ScullySmile that melts my insides, turns my brain into green Jell-O and
my dick into steel.
"I knew you'd come..." she whispers and kisses my lightly again.
So did I, the ten-year-old says. So did I.
****
end part II
part three coming soon!
For missing parts, visit: www.geocities.com/surefinewhatever00