To Scully on Her 40th Birthday
By Christine Leigh
Summary: Mulder writes a letter to Scully on the morning of her 40th birthday.
February 23, 2004
Before you think I've lost my mind -- I know, it gets old after the first thousand times -- let me just say that I've possibly only lost it a little this time. This morning I awoke before you as I usually do, and watched you sleep, also as I usually do, and suddenly felt the need to get my thoughts down in words. There are real cards and gifts, and possibly a cake, that await you, but first, bear with me. It won't be too long, I promise.
Scully, you're forty today, but you'll always be the young woman who smiled at me that first day in the office a lifetime ago. The one who didn't waver in the face of what I'm sure she thought at the time was pure insanity. So much of the time we've spent together in the years since then has been of the most unusual nature to say the least, but for me there were moments that are forever carved in my memory and in my heart, that I hold so dear. They're my family picture album, and were long before we were a family.
So there you are my love, singing "Joy to the World," and here you are making me believe you swallowed a cricket. Now you're sitting next to me on my couch that Christmas eve and we're laughing and opening our funny little gifts. Turn the page and I'm grinning like a schoolboy because you've agreed to go see the Liberty Bell with me, and then there's a cocktail waiting made of snow globe water and sardine juice - I never got to taste it, but I think the tofutti rice dreamsicle must come in ahead. Well, perhaps. On the next page is batting practice. The stars were so bright and beautiful that night, but none could compare to the woman in my arms. Oh, and here's you and your invisible man - that one makes me smile every time. I'll never forget the look on your face when you wanted to stay with him. I'm so sorry that didn't work out, Scully. Here's a good group shot - your reaction the first time you met the guys was priceless. Each in his own way came to love you, I hope you know that. Shall I mention my sore jaw? And not to get melancholy, but hearing your voice through the cacophony in my brain saved my life. There are so many, Scully, but these are among my favorites.
The one I haven't mentioned with the rest is the one that still has, and probably always will have the power to break my heart or make it sing, depending on the moment. Today it's making it sing. That is the one of you holding our yet unnamed son that night in your apartment. When I heard his name come from your lips the first time, I think I must have died and been reborn in the space of those few seconds.
Scully, I love you now and always. Happy Birthday, my most precious love.
~ End ~
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This story is (c) Copyright 2004 by Christine Leigh. "The X-Files" and its characters are the property of the Fox Network and Ten-Thirteen Productions and are borrowed here without profit or intent for profit.