TITLE: One Star Belongs To You AUTHOR: Michelle Kiefer E-MAIL ADDRESS: MSK1024@AOL.COM DISTRIBUTION: Archive if you like, just tell me where. DISCLAIMER: Not mine, more's the pity. SPOILER WARNING: This Is Not Happening RATING: PG CLASSIFICATION: Vignette, MSR SUMMARY: Away beyond the blue, one star belongs to you. COMMENTS: Please visit my other stories at: http://members.aol.com/msrsmut/MichelleKiefer.htm Maintained by the wonderful Jennifer. Author's notes at the end. One Star Belongs to You by Michelle Kiefer Well, I can add your landlord to the list of people who think I've lost my mind. He looks at my check, and I almost see the calculations in his head. Six months rent from a crazy woman who wants to maintain a dead man's apartment as opposed to the cost of looking for a new tenant. He shrugs and pockets the check before leaving me alone in your apartment. I know what my mother will say when she finds out I've paid your rent. She'll speak in that gentle tone people use when speaking to the very ill. She'll ask if it was wise to pay such a sum with a baby on the way. Of course, it isn't wise at all, but I have little interest these days in doing what is logical or sensible. Skinner won't comment on my denial of the truth. His mouth will form a tense, straight line, and his eyes will darken with sorrow. His discomfort will be palpable as he wonders if he can force me to see a therapist. Doggett will sputter and tell me in no uncertain terms that I need to accept reality. Then a shadow will cross his face, and his voice will become softer as he asks if I'm feeling all right. It isn't that I don't believe you're dead, Mulder. I saw you with my own eyes, held your cold, lifeless body in my arms. My tears dampened your hair as I clutched you to my breast. A few weeks ago, I came to this apartment to pick out the damn suit you were buried in. Believe me, I don't doubt your death. It's just that I haven't felt the untying of the knot in my heart. There has always been this connection, like a thread that tied us together. Linked, no matter how many miles lay between us. If you were dead, I'd feel that tie severed, wouldn't I? I knew my father was dead even before my mother spoke the words to tell me. I knew Melissa was gone before the surgeon came out of the operating room to break the news. I felt their deaths deep inside me, like a candle snuffed out. Why don't I feel that for you? So I waited, Mulder, to feel the thread slip its knot. I waited through that long, sad night after we found your body. I steeled myself against the wrenching pain that your loss would bring. I waited during the funeral, standing numbly with Skinner and my mother. I sat alone that night, in silence and waited for the thread to break, but the only thing that broke was my heart. God forgive me, Mulder, but my first thought as I held you in my arms, was that I wanted to follow you. I wanted to go wherever you were; I didn't want to live in a world that no longer held you. It wasn't only the child I carry---your child---that kept me from making good on that desire. The real reason was that I knew you would have been deeply ashamed of me. I think I might be losing my mind. I see you in every tall, dark-haired man on the street. Sometimes I hear footsteps behind me, echoing with your cadence. I smell your aftershave and turn only to find you're not there. Every morning I wake and, for a sweet moment, I forget. My world is whole; my life is normal. Reality crashes over me before my feet touch the bedroom floor. My world screeches to a halt as I remember that nothing in my life makes sense anymore. I spend hours here at your apartment. I fold and refold your t-shirts and jeans. For some reason, I cry every time I see the prescription vials in the bathroom cabinet. There is something so incredibly sad about your name typed out on the labels. It's the little details that break my heart; your toothpaste tube squeezed in the middle, the strands of brown hair stuck in your comb. I follow the same routine every night. I come here to feed your fish and walk through the rooms. I imagine I can see you at your desk, on your couch, in your bed. You haunt this place and me as well. I know I can't afford to pay the rent indefinitely. A time will come when I have to box up your things, sort through your life and close this door for the last time. But not now. Not yet. It'll be dark soon, and I have one more commitment. Gathering my coat, I lock the door to your silent apartment after me. I get in my car, but I don't drive home. The sky is clear tonight, perfect. Traveling through busy streets, I drive as far away from the city lights as I can. I always roll down the window, no matter how cold it is, and feel the wind in my hair. The stars are much better viewed away from the city, where the manmade doesn't compete with what nature has achieved. I park the car and get out, pulling my coat around me. I have this special place, a clearing along the road, where the trees don't block the view. I climb onto the hood of the car, recalling a night long ago where we sat and watched the stars. You had given me a baseball lesson, and I don't believe I fooled you with my feigned disinterest. You knew exactly what effect you were having on me as you curled your body around mine. I turned my head to ask a question and you kissed me. There will come a time when I can't drive out here. In even less time I'll no longer be able to climb onto the hood of the car. But for now, I play my new favorite game. Yes, tonight the sky is perfect, the stars sharp and bright above. I scan the heavens and try to pick out which star is yours. The night before we found you, I looked up at the night sky with Skinner. I told him about the starlight, but I don't know if he understood. I probably explained it badly. My own understanding is a little shaky. But Mulder, perhaps you are starlight. Maybe that's why I don't feel your death in my heart. Wherever you are, I hope you have found the peace that eluded you for so long. I know I will see you again, feel your arms around me, kiss your lips. I believe in my heart that we will walk one day in a place where there is no pain or sadness. So I look to the stars and try to pick the right one. Not that gaudy bright one---not your style. Not that faint one that's barely there. Maybe that one---the steadfast star that never wavers. Yeah. That one would be yours. End - One Star Belongs To You. Many thanks to Kestabrook, for friendship and beta and always being there. This story was inspired by the music of Beth Neilsen Chapman, a woman who is no stranger to sorrow. Away Beyond The Blue - By Beth Neilsen Chapman Away beyond the blue One star belongs to you And every breath I take I'm closer to that place Yeah, baby I'm gonna meet you there On the outskirts of the sky Yeah, baby I'm gonna meet you there And we will fly Away beyond the blue One star belongs to you This life is but a dream Go gently down the stream...