A LIFE: EXCERPTS FROM A JOURNAL
MSR, PG-13/R
Spoilers: "Pilot," "Triangle," "All Things," through Season Nine and beyond
Disclaimer: Clones on Loan
Additional Notes at the end -
This is an addendum to my series, "A Life," which can be found in its entirety, here:
http://char.chaffin.com/life_page.htm
Dedication: To NancyBratt on her birthday. Happy Birthday, Sweetheart!
"A Life: Excerpts From A Journal"
There has always been such a rhythm to us.
I have been thankful for it.
There has always been a quiet sort of speaking, whether we shared a room alone or were adrift in twenty others or more. A glance, a smile, one single touch... and we held entire conversations in just that manner.
I give thanks for that every day, as well.
There's been a peace, a deep inner satisfaction in knowing that wherever we had to go, our best friend went along for the ride. My best friend... your best friend. Lovers, well... anyone can be lovers. It doesn't take much more than an alignment of body parts and a few aimless thrusts. But when friends become the best of lovers... that's something entirely different. Entirely so much better.
Perhaps, more than my lover, I've always needed my friend. In good times and bad episodes, you have been friend first when I craved it. And lover, whenever I ached for that intimacy.
Did I ever tell you how much I love you, for both? Have I said it often enough to you, how thankful I have been for what you've given me, all these years?
I'm telling you now. I'm saying it, now.
~~~~
"We shouldn't be reading this. It's way too personal. It's not meant for us to see. Let's put it back, now. Okay?"
"No, I want to read it. I think we should both read it, don't you? Don't you want to understand what they meant to each other? What they've had together?"
"We know what they've had together. We were there, remember? We saw it, every day."
"Not like this. Never like this. I want to know more. I need to know it. I mean, we DID see it, every day. But not the way they did; not the way they lived it. I think it must be so difficult for them now, to give up parts of all that they've shared, here on the farm. I miss seeing the way they were, so much."
"I do, too."
~~~~
I remember the first time you smiled at me, really smiled at me. In the rain, cold and dripping, soaked to the bone. You smiled, laughed, and in that single moment I knew we were in perfect accord. Even though time and time again we'd fall out of that selfsame accord, still for that one moment we were in sync.
I remember the first time I held you, even though it meant nothing more than comfort to you and a touch of wonder, for me. Can you even, after all this time, know what that embrace did to me? How my hands shook, my arms trembled, until I almost dropped that burning candle? You were damp and warm and silky and sweet. You were mine in that very instant, although neither of us would truly understand for a very long time that we belonged to each other.
I remember the first time I kissed you, even if you don't. How could you? It seems you might have been someone else. Or perhaps I really was hallucinating. It doesn't matter. Your lips were the same as they are now; just as delicious, sweeter than honey. And you kissed me back. Whether you were yourself just then, or someone else, someone from a past I never even lived... you kissed me back. It was a moment I'll never forget.
I remember the first time I saw you, really saw you, for the amazing influence you'd have on my life, on me. The way you protected me, nurtured me, becoming not only friend but sister and lover, every woman in my life I would ever need. I remember how humbled I was by the knowledge that you might not always understand my views and opinions, my goals... but you'd always support them, defend them. I remember with too much clarity how that knowledge made me vulnerable to you... and how easy it was for me to accept that vulnerability.
I remember the first time our bodies came together, that first perfect night. How I'd hoped and hoped you'd awaken and come to me, and how I was so sure you wouldn't want to. A mass of conflicting emotions, I waited for you to walk through my door and I wanted to get down on my knees in thankfulness when you did.
It was all I could do to lie still when you removed your clothes; when you slipped under the covers and whispered in my ear to 'lose the shorts.' It was the first time I can remember kissing a woman while laughing. That's what I like to remember, most of all: laughter and kisses, making love with joy. Though it's true we have made love in every other way - desperation, undue haste, for nothing more than comfort and once in abject anger - still it's the loving we made between us with smiles and chuckles that has me aching in remembrance right now.
~~~~
"Stop. It's getting too intimate. I'm not comfortable with this. Please, put it back. Lock it back up. Come on, Megan... before it gets much more explicit."
"For God's sake. You're a big boy now, aren't you? I think it's wonderful. I think it's going to be of tremendous comfort to both of us, to read this. Don't you? We need this."
"Not me. I have my own memories, thank you."
"But not like this. Never anything like this!"
"Hell. Don't read it aloud, then. If you have to continue, read silently. Please."
"Oh, all right. But you're going to wish you'd heard it."
~~~~
I remember so many things. The velvet skin behind your ear. The way your perfume would cling to my fingers long after I'd stopped touching you, long after we'd part in the morning and would go our separate ways in the office. The smile you'd send me at random moments throughout our morning, afternoon, evening. The clench of your hand when we'd travel by air; still hating to fly but determined to tough it out except for that telltale grip on my fingers.
I loved holding your hand. I still do.
I remember the sensation of your tongue against mine, the slide of it over my body, the warm and wet kisses that followed in its seductive wake. I remember the feel of you, that inner heaven, the first time your body engulfed me, took me in, made me a part of you. How your hair fell back from your face and the one small tear that slid down your cheek when I moved inside you, when you wound yourself around me to assure I wouldn't leave you.
As if I ever could.
I remember the good because I refuse to dwell on the bad: all of the frightening and destructive things that occurred during our years together. How we lost and found each other countless times. How we hurt and healed each other, said sweet things; sometimes shouted bitterly, too.
How we lost the chance to be a family, and how, through your steadfast courage and trust, we gained it back. How indescribable I felt that first moment when our precious son was again placed in my arms. When I knew for certain, really knew that I'd never be apart from either of you again. The pure joy of watching you give birth to our daughter.
How easy it's been to forget the agonies of the past, and concentrate simply on the future. All of the best, and forget the rest. From now on I want to do just that.
Mostly, I remember you... how you were back then. Small and slight, walking toward me in an ill-fitting suit a size too big. Fiery and delicate at the same time, smiling at me over a mug of coffee, a cup of tea, a bottle of beer. Running in heels, keeping up with my longer strides in boots, sandals, sneakers and bare feet. Wearing my socks to bed on Sunday mornings because of cold toes and a propensity to shove those icy digits up against my warm, naked backside.
Hair like silk, blue eyes, peach skin and the heart of a lion. Tender fingertips and strong arms, part siren and part savior.
I remember telling you we had to go; change our lives, bury ourselves once more. You never questioned the why of it; never for a second hesitated. You gave up everything for me, your very identity. You trusted me in a way no one in my life had ever trusted, before. You put your life - and the life of our son - into my keeping. And then you took my hand in yours and never looked back.
Heart of a lion? Better believe it.
You've kept me safe, all of these years. You've kept our family safe. Maybe you think I was the one who took on that job, but it was you. The glue that held it all together; still holds it all together. I told you once that I owed you everything, and you owed me nothing. Never have those words been more true, than when applied to the past forty-three years.
I remember you. Burned into my very soul, etched there so deeply that the essence of you would never leave me in a million years... nothing has changed. Not in all of these years. What we have shared will always remain; will never be forgotten even though our minds may begin to unwittingly erase some of it.
That's why I wrote it down. I'll read to you every day if you want me to. I'll read it to you until I can no longer make out the writing on the page. I'll tell you everything, for as long as I can. From my heart to yours, my lips to yours, my soul to yours.
Always, June.
Forever, Scully. I promise you.
~~~~
"Don't cry."
"I can't seem to stop. Oh, Kevin... he wrote this down so that they'd both remember all the feelings they carried between them. He wrote it because Mom couldn't do it herself."
"I bet she wrote one for him. We probably just haven't located it yet. If she'd been able, even with the arthritis she'd have written one of her own, and given it to him. I can't help but feel I'll never find a love like that. I suppose the divorce has really thrown me, and it's not Elizabeth's fault any more than mine... but I do wonder sometimes if it's even possible to find someone like that, in this so-screwed-up world."
"I don't know. But if you find her, I hope she has a brother. I'm not having much luck in the 'forever-after' romance department, either."
"I'll see what I can do."
"I really do love you, Big Brother. Even though you're a prime pain in the ass."
"I love you too, Megan-Mine. Even though you're a real pest."
The subtle teasing makes them both smile.
They gather a few more items from the room. A fleecy bathrobe, a few nightgowns. A pair of well-worn slippers and a handful of dog-eared paperbacks from the nightstand. Kevin picks up the cloth-bound journal from the bed and holds it in his big hands while they both stare down at it.
"Should we take this with us? Maybe Dad needs it."
"He'd have told us to bring it, if he wanted it today. I think he'd been reading it to Mom, here in their room, before they had to move to town. He knows it's safe. He knows we'll bring it to him when he wants it again."
"He doesn't know we found it, Megan. He doesn't know we've been snooping."
"I refuse to feel guilty. And we weren't snooping. We were trying to get the stuff Dad said he needed and wrote down on that list he gave you. Who knew something this intimate would be in plain sight, in their room?"
"In their dresser, Sis. Not in plain sight. In their private dresser, in their private sanctum. We went rifling through their stuff."
"Well, yes. We did. But I'm so glad we found it. I'm so glad we read it." Megan blinks away a tear and runs a gentle finger along the cover of the journal. "No one can find this. It has real names in it. It has hints into the past that are still so sensitive. We'd be better off locking it in a vault, somewhere."
"No, Dad needs to get to it and he can't do that if it's locked away in a bank vault. Besides, nobody at the First Simmons Trust would do it; they'd think we're nuts for even asking. You know the entire town leaves their doors unlocked, anyhow. It's just the way it is around here."
"You're right. But I can't help worrying. The careful way we've always lived, the way you and I have been taught to live... even after all these years, knowing those enemies are probably dead and gone... it's hard to break a lifetime of habits."
He gives her hand a squeeze. "It'll be all right. Really. We need to get back. Mom will worry if she doesn't see us, and soon. You know how she sometimes worries when we're not all together in the same room."
"Okay. But I want to install an alarm system here at the homestead. And don't laugh at me! We may be up in the mountains, far from basic civilization... but I know there's a security company somewhere, just waiting for our call."
"Uh-huh. When you find them, let me know. Let's lock up and go."
They gently wrap the journal in the wrinkled tissue paper and place it back in the top drawer of the old dresser. And they're not all that surprised to have found such a treasure, here at the farm. The farm has always been safe; has always been a haven.
They help each other on with their coats and walk out the front door, holding hands. Almost the same as when they were younger, so much younger; back when a ten-year old boy cared enough to play with his little sister, while their parents sat on the wide, old porch and watched them with smiles on their faces and a world of love and knowledge in their eyes.
They drive through the rain and wind, along Bluff Ridge, down Emmett Road to the new care facility... to visit with their mother and father.
The mountains curve around them, strong and protective, as they have always done and always will. The town spreads before them, small and safe, loving and warm. In this tiny section of the world, it's a comfort and a blessing to know their lives are as secure as they were so many years ago, when they first came to the Bluffs.
Everything changes. And yet, nothing really does.
End
End notes: When I started writing Nancy's birthday story, I wasn't entirely sure where I wanted it to go. I wanted her to have the loving MSR, the caring between Mulder and Scully that she has always loved to read. I also wanted to give her the future, too; a stretch of many years of that same loving and caring. Then I remembered that I dedicated the most recent "A Life" episode to her: "Dear Heart," which I wrote in 2005.
It's been over two years between stories and I can't think of anything I'd rather have done, than to add onto this series and dedicate it once more to Nancy.
Have a lovely birthday, Dear One. With your family and friends around you, I'm sure it will be just that.
Thanks for reading, and for taking one more trip to Simmons with me, and visit with Frank and June, Kevin and Megan.
Email me anytime, love hearing from you: char@chaffin.com
My website is always open: http://char.chaffin.com