TITLE: Politics of Kissing: Proof of Existence

AUTHOR: Foxie Meg

RATING: PG (for some language)

SPOILERS: Uh, duh...

DISCLAIMER: They're not mine, although I'm beginning
to wonder who Chris is taking tips from!

SUMMARY: What might've been going through 
Mulder's mind in the closing scene of "Existence"

ARCHIVE: Already submitted to Gossamer; anywhere
else, just tell me where you're taking it so I
can come visit.  Oh, and leave my name and stuff
with it so it doesn't get lonely. ;)

FEEDBACK: Do you have to ask?  Don't make me beg.
It isn't pretty.  megan86@thexfiles.com

***


It's no longer a question of existence - I think
I'm pretty much entitled to assume those feelings
now, based on the fact that Scully just handed me
my first child.

Yes, I *know* it's hers too, but considering all
the confusion I just went through, I'll be damned
if I don't call this kid MY son for the rest of his
life.

Well, at least until he needs a diaper change.  Then
I might start calling him Scully's baby.  Although, 
the way I'm feeling right now, I don't even think
diaper duty could deter me.

It's incredible, really.  I've never known I could
feel like this - as trite as that sounds, there's
just no other way to say it.  It's a feeling I didn't
know existed.  It's an emotion so much bigger than
I am, I don't know how I'm containing it.  Just 
looking into his eyes is like... like an epiphany.
Like Saul on the road to Damascus.  Like Mary at the
annunciation.  Like Zechariah when the angel announced
his wife's pregnancy.  Like... like... like every 
miracle in the history of mankind, and every one not
yet documented.

All right here in my arms.

And standing across from me.

I want to hold her so badly, but my arms are full,
and damned if there is any way in hell I am putting
this boy down anytime soon.  My son.  Mine and Scully's.

Dear God.

I can't breathe - and yet, at the same time, the air
feels golden.  Thick, warm and soft - wrapping around
us as tangibly as this fuzzy blanket around William.

My mind, my soul, are so full of emotion I am surprised 
I am even making coherent sentences.  But somehow, I'm 
clearer than I have been in a long time.  All this 
has thrown me into a higher plane, where every moment 
is eternal, and all that matters is right now.
 
Right here.

And despite (as Scully is pointing out) the fact that
we were nervous - moreso than most new parents, I would 
dare to say - throughout the pregnancy, in this new,
clearer plane of existence, I see clearly that underneath
all that worry, I always knew.  

I just knew.

And I think she did too.  

And I know she knows what I'm talking about - but 
we've been running, constantly, nonstop, since I've
been returned, and I haven't had a chance to tell her.
Not really.

I think she saw it on my face in the hospital when she
had that partial abruption.

I think she saw it in my eyes when I gave her that doll.
The one that had been Samantha's, and my mother's before
that, and her mother's before that.

But she needs to *know*.  To have undeniable proof that
these feelings exist in me.  That I want her and this baby -
God, do I ever want them - as my family.

For better or for worse.  Now and always.  'Til death do 
us part - and with our track record, even that's not saying 
a lot.

So she questions me.  And I see it in her eyes - the 
bigger question.  Not, "What is the truth behind this
pregnancy" as our semantics imply, but "Where do we 
go from here?"

And normally there is a certain politic to kissing.  You
wait.  First thoughts - she wants it - slamming against
second-guessing... oh wait, maybe she didn't.

But this time the politics are clear.  And God help me,
I love her, and I love this baby, and when I close my
eyes and lean forward, it's like jumping off a cliff.
Because even though we've shared one night of passion,
that was a lifetime ago - literally, for one little guy
in this new equation - and this feels like our first kiss.
 
Maybe it is.

Please be there when I land, Scully.  Please don't let
me be misreading you.  I want you.  I want this baby.
I want us.

Tell me I wasn't wrong.

...And she kisses me back, and I know that I've played
my hand right - that it's all out on the table now and
all bets are off.  

And all three of us, right here, right now, have begun
anew in a bright, clean moment that makes everything
until now seem like the prologue.

This is our story.  *This* is our life.  This is our
reason, our proof of existence.

This is forever.

*** 
 
THE END

***

AUTHOR'S NOTES:  All right, all right!!  So it's sappy.
But damn it all, that last scene just turned me into a
great big puddle of mush.  Wow.  Did that really happen?
Somebody please tell me next season's not going to start
out with, "Remember 'Existence'?  Well, that was just a
joke.  Here's what *really* happened."

Wow.  That's all I've got to say.  Chris, I love you
again!  You can have them as long as you keep being
this nice to them!