CHAPTER ONE

Are you out there?
Can you hear me?
Can you see me in the dark?

===
 
He touched her today.
His skin on hers: electric, smooth.
He smiles at her every day, his eyes drinking in the sight of her.
But today -- he touched her.
She'd been wearing her mother's ring, the one with the pearl and the tiny
stones.
He noticed it right away, asked her if it was old.  She took a
chance and held her hand out to him.  What would he do?
She knew what he wanted to do, but would he be brave enough?

He was.

At first she thought her heart would stop; it almost did.  Her chest was
so tight she had to fight not to gasp out loud.  At one point she
thought he might lift her hand to his lips.  Just like actors did
in the movies, like she'd seen him do a million times in her dreams.
He turned the palm up and placed his lips on her life line, in her dreams.
For one moment, she thought he had wanted to; his face had softened. For one
moment, while looking at her mother's ring.
He had wanted to kiss her hand.

She's sure of it.

After he'd left, she asked her manager if she could go to the restroom.
She had fumbled with the lock, shaking.  The hand he'd held seemed
hot, prickly, like it was waking up after being asleep. She sat down on the
toilet, put her head into her hands. He was so beautiful; she had loved him
for so long. If only he had a chance to know her, she knew he would love her
back.

He has to love her back.

===
 
Home at last.  Where he is.  She looks around her dingy, cramped apartment.
It's all she can afford. People who work in coffee shops live in dingy,
cramped apartments. In Washington, D.C., anyway.  She used to hate this
shithole, before she met him. Before he became so much a part of her life.
Now she is never alone. Pictures of him stare out from her walls. Him
walking to work, his coat floating out behind like a dark cloud. Here he is
carrying groceries from his car to his apartment, keys clenched in his
teeth, his beautiful mouth pursed in concentration. Here he is jogging; she
loves the ones of him jogging. He's so alive.
His hair is damp with sweat, his gray t-shirt, stained with large circles,
clinging to his chest. His long lean form pushes forward in flight, stilled
momentarily for her photograph. She reaches out to touch him, her fingers
tracing the line of him, her Fox in flight. He's so beautiful and kind, not
like other men...not like him. They were meant to be together; he didn't see
it yet but she would show him, convince him. He would see, after she told
him how much she loved him.

She unpacks her groceries, putting things away in their proper places.
She's making his favorite dinner tonight: lasagna.  She's watched him eating
it in his neighborhood Italian restaurant.  She watches him a lot.
It's her favorite thing to do now.  She knows so much about him,
enough to know they are perfect for each other, meant for each other.

She worried at first about the other woman, the red head.  When she
first started to watch him, it seemed the red head was always turning
up.Then she found out it was only his partner...only his partner; he didn't
love her. She could tell by the way he acted around her that he didn't care
about her. They never held hands, he never kissed her, he never looked at
the red head the way he looked at her. The way he'd looked at her wearing
her mother's ring this morning.  Fox loved her.  Every time he saw her, his
eyes betrayed him, betrayed his need.  His longing for her. She feels it.
She's going to tell him soon. She's waiting for the perfect opportunity. She
can wait. He won't let her down.

She's sure of it.

"How was your day, lover?"  she whispers into her empty apartment,
spooning the lasagna onto his dinner plate.  "That's nice.  Mine?
It was okay; we were busy.  That man who always asks me out came in again
today.  I know, Fox, I know, you told me you would take care of it for me,
but I don't want you to get in trouble at your job. Please, Fox, forget
about him; I'm sorry I even brought it up." She turns her head towards him,
listening to her lover as he speaks to her, a smile on her face at his words
of devotion.

In her empty apartment.

He loves her; he hates it when other men pay attention to her.
She knows she shouldn't have brought up that other man.

They finish their dinner, her lover and her.  She drinks the wine he
pours her.  After she's cleaned her plate, she looks over at his place
setting. She sees that it's full.  She understands what that means.
She knows that she is alone - that this is a dream.
It takes her longer now to remember, longer than it used to,
but she never really forgets.  Suddenly all she feels is rage.
Rage at her life, her loneliness, this constant horrific ache of emptiness
that is always just under the surface.  It eats at her, keeps her up at
night, keeps the nightmares coming one after the other.
Her nightmares of him - that piece of shit who called himself her father.
She hates him, almost as much as she loves Fox.

"I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!" she screams out loud,
her shattered voice echoing in her empty apartment.
What she really hates is herself, her life.  Fox is the only good thing she
has; he will save her.  He will make the nightmares go away;
she can tell just by looking at him that he can do that.
He's strong, not like her.

Thump...thump...thump.   "You wanna shut the fuck up down there?!"
her neighbor yells through the ceiling.  Her hand over her mouth to
stifle her sobs, she lays down on her bed.
Soon, soon this will all be over.
When she tells him that she loves him.

===
 
He's late.  It's not like he's there at the same exact time every morning,
but he's never this late.  She's getting worried. She needs to see him
today; it's important. She hopes he hasn't gone out of town again.
Her nightmares were bad last night; she feels panicked; she'll calm down if
she can just see him. There he is!  He's coming, he's just running late
that's all.

"Hello," she says trying to sound casual. "Do you want your usual?"

"Yes, please, Jane. Can you give me an extra shot today though?
I had a bad night; I overslept. I'm running late."
He smiles at her. He looks tired.

"Nightmares?"  Oh my God. She can't believe she said that.
Oh my God. Why did she say that?  She almost drops the coffee
press in her panic to hide her furious blush of embarrassment.
Shit!

He flinches. "Excuse me?"

She's startled him with her slip up.  She's so stupid, sometimes
she wonders how she makes it from day to day.  "I'm sorry; I didn't
mean to say that.  I -- uh, well, you know, I sometimes have a nightmare
every once in awhile.  I know how they can make it hard to sleep." She
wishes the floor would swallow her whole.
She puts his first coffee on the counter before starting the second one.

His cell phone rings.  She's grateful for the interruption;
she needs time to compose herself.

"Mulder. --  Hey, Scully. --  I know.  I'm getting coffee now. -- No, I just
overslept."  He turns away from her now, dropping his voice.
"No, no, I didn't have another one.  I went  right to sleep after I hung up.
I'll be right there. -- What?"  He starts to laugh.  "Thanks.
Are you going to sing happy birthday to me? -- No, I'm not telling you how
old I am.  Why don't you look in my file Dr. Scully."
He hangs up without saying goodbye.

It's his birthday. She didn't know it was his birthday.
"I couldn't help overhearing; is it your birthday?"  Her knees are shaking.
She can't believe how brave she's being today.

"Yes, Jane, yes it is.  I completely forgot about  it until this very
moment." His face had returned to normal.  No remnants of the confusion that
her stupid question had caused.

"Happy birthday." I love you.

"Thank you, Jane."

Today. It would be today. She know's just what to do.

-end ch 1-