The Locket
By Shoshana
 
     I'd planned this well. Every detail. So that Scully would
absolutely, positively be in the office Friday afternoon. Doing
paperwork. Till three p.m. When I asked her to walk over to the
National Gallery with me. To see the John Singer Sargent exhibit.
She'd wanted to go, I'd known. But she'd either been too busy or out
of town. I 'd always liked his work and I knew it was just the hook
to get her over there on a quiet Friday afternoon. Well, maybe not
too quiet, if school groups were still streaming through, but we'd
find a place away from the crowds.

     I went to the antique store last Tuesday, where I found the
most beautiful Art Nouveau locket I had ever seen. A woman's profile
looks to her left, wavy locks curling around her head, then wrapping
around the edges of the piece. A small diamond is mounted in a star
shape setting to the left of the woman's lovely face. Not a very
expensive piece I know, but I had to have it for her. I knew she
would love it.

     I had it engraved. This was the first time I'd had anything
engraved for a woman. Even my wedding band, so many years ago, had
no personal message inside its circumference. I still didn't know if
it was the right thing to give her. It's not a ring. It didn't
commit her to any stronger relationship than we already had. It
could be interpreted as a gift of friendship, not a romantic token.
Just to know that she had it and that she treasured it was all I
needed to hope for.

     We left the office on time and arrived according to my pre-
planned schedule. We walked around the exhibit for twenty minutes,
taking in Sargent's portraits and landscapes, reading our brochures
along the way, commenting on the different media he used, especially
watercolor. Scully loved these. They were painted in Venice, in
Florida, all around the world. An oil painting of the artist's
niece, "Nonchaloir (Repose)," was her favorite in that medium, with
rich greens and golds in the young woman's shawl and voluminous
dress. We sat down in front of that one, so that she could bask in
its glowing sumptuousness.

     It was quiet in the gallery and we didn't make any conversation
for quite awhile, before I broke the silence with a question.
"Scully?"

     She pulled her attention away from the painting and directed it
all toward me. "Yes?"

     "Where do you see us in a year?"

     She didn't answer right away, composing her response carefully,
thoughtfully. "I really don't know Mulder. I think we'll still be
together, if that's what you're asking."

     I was very nervous now. I had planned every detail, every
second, so that I would be able to handle my emotions, respond
intelligently to whatever answer she gave to my carefully chosen
question. I couldn't speak, I couldn't even get my mouth to open. I
sat with a lump in my throat and tried to get my composure back so
that I could proceed with my plan.

     "Mulder, are you alright?" she asked, concerned that no
reaction to her statement was forthcoming.

     I gathered my courage from somewhere, bolstered by joy that she
had spoken quite affirmatively of a future for us, whatever obstacles
stood in the way. I knew there was a lot of ambiguity in her choice
of words. We could be together as friends or as lovers, her words
could be interpreted either way. I was going to take a chance on the
latter. I couldn't let her drift away from me again, not if I could
find any way in the world to stem that frightening possibility.

     I reached inside my suit jacket and pulled out the velvet box,
smiling at her, still unable to find the words. She watched quietly,
patiently, with a serene smile of her own. Why is she not surprised
at this?, I immediately thought. Maybe the enigmatic Dr. Scully had
been expecting this. Maybe I should have gone for the ring. Nah.
This was more her style. And we could always get her the ring. I
hoped.

     "What's that Mulder?" she said, breaking the weighty silence
that seemed to have imprisoned my vocal cords.

     "Open it."

     She beamed like a teenager now, reaching over and grasping the
object in her small, exquisite hands, then glancing up at my jackass
grin several times before finally opening the little box. She seemed
stunned, maybe because she expected something else (Oh, God I hoped
so), maybe because she thought it was as beautiful as I had.
 
     "Oh, Mulder, this is so lovely. You bought this for me?"

     My conversational abilities were at an all time low. I nodded
and smiled, trying to get the lump out of my throat so that I could
regain the power to speak and rejoin Homo sapiens. Finally, I said,
"Yeah."

     She read the inscription, then grinned broadly and asked, "Will
you help me put it on?"

     "Sure. Turn around."

     She did and I gently moved her silky hair so I could secure it
at the back of her neck. She turned around and fingered the locket,
smiling and whispering, "It's so beautiful, so beautiful." She took
my hand and kissed it chastely, not releasing my fingers, but
intertwining them in her own.
  
     I squeezed her hand gently and said, "That's not all that's
beautiful, Scully."
 
     She flushed, a bit embarrassed, a bit overcome with emotion.
Much to her credit, she composed herself a bit and said, "Mulder, can
I show you my favorite sculpture at this museum?"

     "Sure, lead the way."

     And we walked hand in hand through the thinning crowds of
schoolkids and tourists until we got to a sculpture gallery, with
many large and small works, mostly by Rodin, from what I could
remember from my Art History classes at Oxford. At the entrance to
the gallery, she told me to shut my eyes. I obliged her, feeling a
bit silly, but humoring her plan. We walked across the length of the
gallery and she stopped me gently in my tracks. She then said, "Open
your eyes, now."

     I did, and I discovered we were standing in front of Rodin's
small bronze "The Kiss." Scully reached up and pulled my startled
face down to hers, kissing me full on the lips and not letting go
till we both found it necessary to catch our breath. "My favorite
sculpture, Mulder. You made it come to life."

     I pulled her close to me, afraid to let go, to let the moment
pass. We stood like that a long time, oblivious to curious patrons
of the arts, happier than I knew we'd both been in years. Our
felicity was only interrupted by the public address system, advising
that the museum would soon be closing, and why don't you silly
kissing fools leave already...

     So we're over at Scully's apartment tonight, watching movies,
and re-enacting her favorite sculpture at the National Gallery of
Art. I'm glad to see that one of my well laid out plans has at last
succeeded. So, what did I have engraved on the locket? Simply, 'I
want to believe in us.'

fin

N.B. For more about the exhibit, see:
http://www.nga.gov/exhibitions/sargent.htm

Rodin's sculpture is at:
http://www.nga.gov/cgi-bin/pinfo?Object=1011+0+none