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