SOUL KISS

Mulder's POV.
Rating: R
Timeline: starts after Duane Barry, official ep date. Scully is gone for good. Notes: Thought this will be my first drabble. Turned out a short-fic. Just can't stop in time. Thanks to Jynn for speedy beta.

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I've never been kissed before. Like them lovers do.

At least not as far as I can remember. Kissing has always been something I thought of as being symbolic of intimacy, a culmination of the inherent love and trust between two people.

I've never loved or trusted anyone that much except for Dana. But our love for each other was something so pure and good, that neither of us felt a pressing need to express it in a physical way. We ought to wait her eyes told me. Too many things were still unspoken, too complicated to be voiced. Our job and duties constantly robbed us of time and chances. Besides I didn't want to risk tainting it so I wanted to wait until we were ... we knew for sure we were ready.

That day never came.

August 8th, 1994. Since then I've lived in the AA era. After Abduction.

I searched. I waited. I went mad with anger and grief and helplessness.

Months passed. My heart screamed denials and fed on hope, but my mind stated the fact. She was to become another ghost in the mansion of my haunted memory.

In the wake of her having been gone forever, I felt a part of my heart close off and die, knowing in my grief that I would never feel that depth of emotion again; so I mourned her loss, long and hard.

It was on the fourth day after her gravestone was put in place, as I lay crying on my bed, that he came to me. I'd locked myself inside my apartment and despite the occasional entreaty, let no one enter. He decided to take matters into his own hands and let himself into the room, in order to comfort me, give me some relief from my sorrow. I'm sure that he didn't mean for things to turn out like they did, but I was in such emotional pain that when the hand caressing my bare back went from simply soothing, to something a little more...affectionate, I grasped onto it like a thirsty man grabs onto water. I welcomed it, happy to feel anything but pain, not caring whom the other party was.

The first time had happened because I was not quite myself. But however drained and wrecked after losing something that I was sure I would never be given again, I wasn't so pathetic and weak-willed to shove him away the next time he touched the side of my face and ran his hand from my chest down to the fly of my jeans.

Things went on like this for some time. He would come up to my place, or I would go to his and we would explore each others bodies, finding new ways to bring out pleasure in the other.

But I never let him kiss me.

He would try though. Oh boy, how he would try. Sometimes he would get down-right creative in his attempts to kiss me. And once he almost succeeded, until I came back to my senses and backed away before his lips could actually make contact.

He would often ask me for my reasons behind not allowing the kiss, so I would tell him. Then he would tell me that it was a load of bullshit. We went back and forth like this, with that becoming a new routine in our relationship, if you could call it that, because he refused to buy the answers I gave him.

Finally one morning, another one where I woke up to sun peeking through the blinds and bed-sheets clinging to my back, he turned to take me in his arms and repeated his plea. I blew up at him, too loud and too rude, told him to quit hounding me on the subject, and ran off outside to blow off some steam with barely having managed to put some random clothes on. It wasn't until I calmed down somewhat that I realized that this was the first time I've gotten so angry in a long, long time. Actually it was the first time I felt much of anything other than the intense desire my lover brought out in me, so I started to think.

When he found me, I was sitting in the small cafe three blocks away. I didn't notice him at first, caught up in my thoughts as I was, contemplating my life in the cup of blackest coffee I didn't have a single dime with me to pay for. When I did take notice of his tall familiar silhouette, my first thought was to ignore him. But then he sat down beside me, put a hand on my shoulder and called my name in that obscenely low voice of his. When I finally raised my head to look at him, what I saw almost broke my heart.

She never ever looked at me this way.

His overall expression reminded me of a little puppy, fierce yet needy, desperate for his master's attention. And there were so many emotions fighting for dominance in his eyes, fear, anger, hope, but the one that stood out the most was love.

It was then that I realized that love had been there for a long time. In every action taken. In every word spoken. In every attempt to bring me out of myself. But it never shined brighter than it did at that moment.

Tears came to my eyes, and I realized that I did not love this man. My heart had been closed off for so long I didn't know if I was even capable of feeling that emotion anymore.

But I was willing to try.

It was with that thought in mind that I pulled Alex towards me for a kiss.

For everyone to see.

*end
 

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