A LIFE, PROLOGUE: DEAR HEART

By Char Chaffin

MSR, PG-13

Spoilers: Vague, Through Season Nine

Disclaimers: Clones on Loan

THANKS: To everyone who emailed me, asking for 'just one more

"Life" story, please!' This is for you, with love -

DEDICATION: To Nancy, who is a dear spot in my own online life!

Additional notes at the end -

Summary: 'It's a lonesome town, all right...'

"Dear Heart"

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'Dear Heart, wish you were here to warm this night...'

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Another dingy town, small and nondescript. Another motel, another

greasy spoon diner, another series of days and nights spent holed up.

He hates his life. No, that's not quite correct, because by no

stretch of anyone's imagination could this be called a life.

He hates his existence, that's more accurate.

Sitting in a corner booth at the diner, which is named - of all

things - simply, "Eats," he pokes at a cold hamburger nestled between

two halves of a soggy bun, garnished with wilted lettuce. One bite

convinced him that his stomach couldn't handle the stress, so instead

he's downed several cups of coffee and has spent the evening staring

out the clouded window. Main Street, Po-dunk, USA. On a weeknight

there's nothing happening. He figures it's as boring behind closed

doors as it seems to be out in public. Ironically it's these deader-

than-a-doornail towns that afford him the most anonymity and safety.

He used to think the big cites were easier to disappear in. He

doesn't think that way any longer.

It's a clear night and the stars are slowly popping out. There's a

quarter moon as well, and as he gazes at it through the blurry window

he can't help but wonder if his woman is staring at the same moon,

and thinking of him.

Of course, she is. He knows her. She might have her feet planted

firmly on the ground but deep inside her heart she's a romantic, and

a moon-gazer. He used to tease her about it just to watch her get

indignant and argumentative.

"I do NOT gaze at the moon, Mulder! Why on earth would I want to?"

"Because you're hoping, if you do, you'll see a "Moon-Gotcha."

"I know I'm going to regret this, but... what's a "Moon-Gotcha?"

"Well, I'll show you. See the moon?"

"Yeah..."

"GOTCHA!"

"MULDER! Let go of my kneecap; that TICKLES!"

He can almost hear her laughter, as he stares at the moon. Almost.

*************

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'Dear Heart, seems like a year since you've been out of my sight...'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She's the reason he sits in tiny, dark diners that smell of old

frying oil. She's the reason he moves from place to place, back-

tracking and side-stepping his way across the country. She and his

child, his William. Two days old when he left, bending over the

bassinet to kiss the tiny, perfect face. Trying to stem the tears,

upset when two of them dripped onto the soft blue receiving blanket

that lay over his son as he slept. Spilling more tears on her pale,

sad face when he had to say goodbye; had to hold her so tightly one

last time, there in the doorway of the bedroom they'd shared all too

infrequently.

As he'd wiped at her wet cheeks, she'd done the same for him. And

their final words to each other were banal and frustrating and so

much like them...

"You'll need to change vehicles several times. And don't forget to

get word to me - safely, of course - when you need more funds."

He'd nodded and buried his face in her hair, inhaling the scent,

imprinting in his mind the good clean of it, knowing that anything

resembling good was going to be damned scarce. "I'll try to leave

notes with the guys, and maybe I can email you once in a while. As

soon as I secure everything and it feels safer."

<I love you. I worship you. I can't bear the thought of having to

leave you, even for a day, much less weeks and possibly months.>

He'd wanted to say that, over and over again. Instead he'd talked of

notes and goddamned email messages. They were both idiots, it would

seem.

But the kiss they'd shared more than made up for the words they

never spoke. Hard, desperate, taking, greedy, soft, tender,

supplicating, needy... unutterably sad. No words could have topped

it, and so none were offered. He'd walked to the curb and climbed

into the taxi; it drove away carrying him, his suitcases... but not

his heart. He'd left it, beating out its love for her, in her hands.

That drive away from Scully had signaled the beginning of hell for

him. Days and nights on the road. Buying a beat-up car, driving it

until he could dump it, and buy another. Seeking to vanish into the

mystic the way their enemies seemed to be able to do at the drop of a

hat. Praying that with his absence, he'd secure a measure of

security for the woman and child he'd walked away from.

Mostly, he'd prayed.

********************

The sheets on the lumpy bed are old and pilled, frayed, smelling of

bleach and a touch of mildew. The blanket is threadbare and the

bedspread should have been put out of its misery years ago. It

doesn't matter all that much to him because it's not like he's going

to fall asleep, anyway. Usually he finds himself flat on his back,

staring at the ceiling and wishing with an intensity bordering on

pain that he was in that apartment in Georgetown. He'd have both

arms full of family, better believe it. Instead, he counts the

cracks in the cheap plaster job that some underpaid Joe Schmoe

slopped over the ceiling - probably back during the Depression - and

he thinks of every second he held her, every kiss he gave her.

It keeps him sane.

From that first tentative meeting of lips to the first mesh of their

bodies on a night much like this one, he never questioned that they

belonged together. In his mind it was inevitable. If he was unsure

of anything, it was the regard and interest their relationship might

generate among those who'd seek to use them to control and manipulate

a future that he was just beginning to comprehend and to fear. That

alone kept him from declaring himself on more than one occasion.

But one night... one night it was impossible to deny it any longer.

One night everything that needed to be said between them was whittled

down into a kiss so fiercely sweet that it nearly sent him to his

knees.

He still can't recall who kissed whom first. It just seemed as if

one moment he was looking into her eyes and the next she was bare and

warm and beneath him in his rumpled bed, their mouths fused together.

There was no memory of having undressed; only the magic they created

on each others' bodies with lips, tongues, hands.

Her skin was damp and satiny against his. Her legs twined around

him, holding him tightly while her mouth fed from his with greedy

passion. Into the silence of the room their sighs and gasps, broken

words of need and desire, blended with that first hard thrust of his

flesh piercing hers. When she arched up against him, when her blue

eyes went opaque and blind with the power of her release... that's

when he knew he'd do anything to keep her at his side, loving him.

That's when he became the strongest he'd ever been in his life - and

the most vulnerable.

**************************

As the shadows shift across the small motel room, he rubs at eyes

gritty from lack of sleep and wonders if William is still awakening

at two in the morning to nurse. A smile breaks over his face when he

recalls how unbelievably lovely Scully looked when she nursed their

son, how his tiny hand fisted against her pale skin, the way her eyes

met his as William fed at her breast. Glowing with new motherhood,

she presented the most beautiful of miracles and he'd sat next to her

in complete awe as she nursed their child.

Twenty hours later, he was gone.

Mulder rubs at his eyes again, trying to alleviate the sting of

tears held ruthlessly at bay. He tells himself he's doing the right

thing, staying away. He knows the consequences of being found,

especially if Scully and William were found with him.

But, God Almighty, he misses them. The pain of loss kills him,

little by little, each day he spends on the road, moving farther away

from them.

*******************

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'A single room, a table for one - it's a lonesome town, all right...'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Another gray dawn and he's sitting on the bed, still fully dressed,

still thinking. It's been three days and he should probably head

out, find another little burg and start all over again.

He doesn't want to. He wonders if he'll ever be able to face that

new dawn, easing the car back on the road and driving again.

He wants to go home. The ache inside him threatens to overwhelm him

to the point of pain, as he stumbles to the bathroom to splash tepid

water on his face. He needs a shave, and yet why should he bother?

The only woman in the world whose opinion of him truly matters is as

unattainable to him right now as a star in the night sky.

He can't go back to Georgetown; that's a no-brainer. But Jesus,

it's a big world and surely there are many hiding places in it.

Instead of actively searching, he's been sobbing into his coffee when

he could be making some short-range plans.

Would Scully live with him anywhere? He knows she would. She'd

pack it up in a minute, cram William and her clothes into suitcases,

bag up a stroller and nab the first available mode of transport out

of town.

Would she leave her family behind if the only way they could

disappear involved allowing the Scullys to think they were dead?

There's the million-dollar question. Luckily for him he's sure

enough of her love and commitment to provide the only acceptable

answer...

*********************************

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'But soon I'll kiss you hello at our front door...'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His fingers shake when he dials the phone, taking a chance on

calling her cell.

"Scully."

"It's me. I need you to listen."

"Mulder, oh, God..."

He closes his eyes at the sound of her voice in his ear, soaking it

in, letting it wash over him. He murmurs into the receiver, "I know.

Me, too. But right now you have to listen. Okay?"

A sigh of longing and then a firm, "Yes. I'm listening."

He finds himself taking a deep breath as he retains a death grip on

the phone. "I want you to pack what you can, and leave. Contact me

when you get settled and tell me where you are. Go wherever you

want, as long as you feel safe when you get there. Soon, okay? I

can't live this way any longer. I can't."

He breaks off, fighting to keep his voice even. It's asking too

much of her, he knows. Yet he could no more stop himself from asking

than to stop breathing. One more hour without hearing her voice

might have done him in, and under more sane circumstances a phone

call could have gone a decent way toward placating him.

But he's not quite sane, not right now. And his need for her is all-

encompassing... There's a plea in his tone when he pushes his mouth

closer to the receiver, as if by touching it with his lips he's

somehow touching her. "Can you do it, Scully? Can you drop it all,

the job and the family, and meet me? Can you disappear with me?"

Her sigh fills his head and his heart. "You even have to ask? I'm

more than ready. Consider us on the way. I can't do it any longer

either, Mulder. It's killing me in small measures, each day."

Her willingness to give it all up, relinquish contact with her

family, humbles him. In truth, he expected her to need a bit of time

to think it over. Though he wants to run with the words she just

echoed in his ear, he also wants to give her an out, just in case

she's being impulsive.

Mulder's jaw clenches a bit as he cautions, "Be very sure. Once we

do this, we can't go back. You know that. You stand to lose so

much, Scully. If I were a less selfish man I'd find reasons to stop

myself from asking you."

"Mulder, you're not selfish. I made the choice a long time ago to

walk with you, stand at your side and put my trust in you. I love my

family but you are my life. There's no question in my mind as to the

path I need to follow. There's nothing more to be said, except to

iron out the small details and then try to relax as much as you can,

until I contact you."

She's holding firm with him, being the practical one, but he can

hear the small tremor behind her words. If it takes all that he has

and all that he is, he'll keep her and William safe and that tremor

will never return...

With a soft whisper of, "I'll wait for your call, Scully," he

disconnects, fighting the prick of tears at the corners of his eyes.

He has a tough job ahead of him... making sure he stays calm until

she calls him, and then making damn sure he's ready to hit the road,

when she does.

*******************************

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'And, Dear Heart, I want you to know I'll leave your side

nevermore...'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The days have melded into weeks that have dragged on, weighing him

down more than usual. His cell has remained stubbornly silent and

he's wanted to stomp on it in frustration. It's not that he worries

she'll change his mind. She won't. Even the thought that she'll

leave her mother, her brothers in the dark concerning her fate,

won't sway her.

She's going to do it. She's coming to him.

Mulder refuses to think about anything except their immediate

safety. Instead of agonizing over what's she's giving up for him, he

finalizes what arrangements he can, and stays as optimistic as

possible. Instead of worrying about what next year will hold, he

makes himself concentrate on the pure relief he'll feel when his

family is safe in his arms and he's holding them close. As far as

he's concerned, the day after that miracle and every day thereafter

will take care of itself.

They'll need to bury themselves in a place that accepts the stranger

and asks no questions; begin a life as far removed from their present

existence as possible. He tells himself, with complete honesty, that

there isn't a way of life he couldn't endure as long as Scully and

William could be at his side. As long as he can count on awakening

each morning with her sweet face next to him on the pillow and fall

asleep at night after rocking their son to sleep in his arms...

That's all. That's everything.

Mulder sits with ill-concealed patience and makes notes, pours over

road maps, drinking bad coffee and ignoring gritty eyes left over

from another almost-sleepless night. It's coming together, slowly,

but there will be all kinds of small yet important details that need

to be ironed out. Again, he refuses to dwell on anything other than

willing the damned phone to ring, hearing at last that she's

somewhere with William and both of them are waiting for him to find

them.

He's kept in sporadic contact with the guys, understanding and

grateful as hell that he'll always have a lifeline to the world he

and Scully have chosen to leave behind. As some of those afore-

mentioned small details have been ironed out, Mulder finds himself

more and more impressed with their expertise and their cunning.

Their unswerving loyalty and dedication to him and his loved ones has

meant the world to him. Thanks to their efforts, he and Scully - and

William - will have anonymity and a safe mode to function in. The

rest will be up to them.

Mulder is more than equal to the challenge.

He stares at his cell as if willing it to ring; then forces himself

to cease the obsessing. Pouring the rest of his cold coffee down the

drain in the bathroom sink, he prowls the small confines of his room,

peeking out of the drawn curtains at the window, seeing nothing but

the image of Scully as she stood on the curb and watched him leave.

He never wants to replay another image like that in his mind, ever

again.

He wants to see her face light up when he walks into a room; wants

to feel her arms come around him in the dusk of the evening after the

supper dishes have been cleared. He wants William on his knee,

gurgling up at him while they play 'horsey ride,' and he wants most

of all to curl his family close in the dead of night when the only

threat outside their window is a thunderstorm, a blizzard, a heat

wave. He wants it so badly, and waiting for it to begin has been the

hardest thing to deal with.

And as if by magic, through his desperate will alone, it does.

Mulder snatches it up so fast he almost flings it across the room.

He punches a button and barks into the receiver in a voice too rough,

overly worried; so hopeful.

"Hello. Hello!"

"It's me." She sounds tired but wonderful; Mulder lets his clenched

fingers relax around the small cell phone. After weeks and weeks of

uncertainty her voice in his ear is his only reality.

He sighs through her name as he responds to that short salutation

and when she speaks again he can almost hear the smile she must be

wearing.

"We're ready for you. Plattsburgh, New York." Her voice lowers to

a soft whisper as she recites an address. With those few words she's

given him that lifeline he needs; has blessed him with a future and

proven her trust and loyalty all over again. As if he ever needed

further proof.

It takes a moment for his voice to steady but he manages to reply

without blubbering. "I'm leaving now. It may take a few days.

Leave a light on for me, okay?"

Her watery chuckle is a balm and a promise. "I'll also put the

coffee on and turn down your side of the bed. Hurry, okay? Your son

wants you to read him a story."

Mulder closes his eyes against the sudden burn of tears that he

won't allow to fall. Now is not the time for them. Now is for

gladness, for anticipation. For reaffirmation.

"I'm never leaving you again, Scully. I promise."

He has to strain to hear her; miles and miles between them - as well

as a shaky connection - reduces her reply to a thread of sound. But

he catches the words right before she disconnects.

"I won't let you, Mulder. Never again. I love you so..."

Mulder carefully folds his cell and places it in his pocket. He

scoops up the papers, maps and other assorted items from the small

table near the window, collects his belongings and walks out the

door. He slides behind the wheel of the old sedan parked out in the

lot and singles out a map, spreading it open the seat next to

him. He drives away with a smile on his face and an image of Scully

waiting in a doorway somewhere up north, William in her arms, smiling

for him.

For him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

'And, Dear Heart, I want you to know... I'll leave your side...

nevermore...'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

End

Final notes: I have received so many emails from readers who

enjoyed "A Life" and wanted to know how it all began, that I just had

to reopen the series and write a prologue. It's been wonderful for

me, revisiting this universe and creating a beginning for it. Thanks

for wanting more!

Nancy, as always you are in my thoughts and my prayers. I'm so glad

we're friends!

The title and words of the song I borrowed? Written by Henry

Mancini in 1965, "Dear Heart" is a lovely, sad and yet hopeful melody!

I love to hear from you; email me sometime! char@chaffin.com

Website? Moi? But of course! http://char.chaffin.com