From: pdiddy@hotmail.com   
      
   Title : Sand in my shoes   
   vavie2003@wanadoo.fr   
   Author :poormulder   
      
   Written for the June Mulder's Refuge Contest : All at sea   
      
   Rating : PG13   
      
   Category : MSR, M/O (well, sort of... )Old flame. Nothing serious. Mild MT.   
      
   Spoilers : Closure   
      
     Disclaimer. Not mine. I will give back when I ahve the sand off his cute   
   Butt.   
      
      
      
      
   Happiness is when what you think, what you say, and what you do are in   
   complete harmony.   
      
   Mahatma Gandhi   
      
      
      
   Title; comes from a song by Dido.   
      
      
      
   SAND IN MY SHOES   
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
   "I am going to take some time off."   
      
      
   Scully raised her eyebrows and looked thoughtfully   
   at her partner. It wasn't unexpected after   
   the harrowing events of the last few days, but she had   
   never considered that Mulder would actually take a   
   vacation. He seemed to be fine; at some kind of peace after the   
   discovery of Samantha's destiny. He had said   
   that finally he was free.   
      
   "Where are you going, Mulder?"   
      
   "Don't know yet, Scully. But I need sometime   
   by myself to gather my thoughts."   
      
      
   Scully looked at him and saw sadness in his   
   eyes that nearly broke her heart. She wanted to take   
   him into her arms and wrap him in a fierce hug, but she knew   
   that he needed some privacy and she respected his   
   solitary needs.   
      
      
      
   "Perhaps I'll go to my mother's summer beach   
   house. It's a place where I have fond memories   
   of happier times with my sister. I need to..." he smiled   
   at the touch of Scully's hand on his arm. She understood,   
   she always did, even though he knew she was concerned about him.   
      
   "I understand, Mulder. Take whatever time you need.   
   But Mulder... call me if you want to speak to someone."   
      
   "I will. Thank you Scully." He squeezed her hand back in gratitude.   
      
   She reluctantly let him go, her eyes sad, following his back as he exited   
   their   
   office, shoulders slumped like he bore all the burden's of the world.   
      
      
      
   ***********   
      
      
      
   While driving to his apartment, the weight of his sorrow liquidized all down   
   his face, seemingly of its own volition, but then angrily tried to halt his   
   tears flow behind his eyelids. No. He was going to be strong, and attempt to   
   enjoy his time off. He wanted no more than find the strength to move on with   
   his life now and perhaps find the strength to reveal his true heartfelt   
   feelings to his soul mate.   
      
      
   He packed hastily and dumped everything in his car, driving slowly to the   
   Vineyard. When he arrived, the sun was a glowing crimson globe above the   
   ocean. The recumbent heat of it felt good on his face.   
      
   The ozone hit him first, salty and wet, familiar as an old memory and evoked   
   them one after the other with each deep breath as he exited his car. He took   
   his bag from the trunk and went inside the house, unable now to stop the   
   assault of ghosts from the past. Banter between brother and sister, a   
   childish laugh. *Catch me if you can Fox* And he smiled at the intrusion   
   that fluttered in his heart.   
      
   A fine sheet of dust covered all the plastic covered furnishings so he   
   quickly opened the windows to let some fresh air enter the lonely atmosphere   
   of the house. Motes flying around his head as the breeze wafted through. He   
   breathed deeply, inhaling the salty breeze and began to uncover pieces of   
   furniture.   
      
   He wanted to feel at home here. He wanted it to look the way he had   
   remembered it all those summers ago in happier days where his biggest worry   
   was if the weather would be good enough for beach play, an school grades,   
   chasing kites on the dunes with his sister.   
      
   He loved this place. He loved the way the ocean moved like a living entity,   
   both calm and sometimes turbulent...but ever cleansing, always constant. And   
   he loved the splendid view and the peacefulness. The space to hear his own   
   mind, count his heartbeats.   
      
   He grabbed his running shorts and went for a run on the beach.   
      
   He ran a long time, barefoot, enjoying the quietness and the solitude, the   
   comforting familiarity of still warm sand between his toes. After a few   
   miles, breathless, he stopped, bent over, hands on knees. The sun had   
   disappeared. Sweat was running down his chest and the wetness made him   
   shiver. He took great gulps of ozone damp air; the frantic thump of his   
   heart not an unpleasant sensation. He'd hit that almost addictive pleasure   
   wall all runners strived for, more invigorating here because of the sea air.   
      
   It was dark when he returned to the house, his stomach pleading for   
   nourishment after the exertion and meager self-rationing of late. He decided   
   on a quick blood sugar fix of soup and canned peaches. Next the shower   
   beckoned and he let the warm water gush over his punished body, unknotting   
   his tired muscles, washing away the tangy sea mingled sweat, not just a   
   physical cleansing but a symbolic one too.   
      
   He let the memories have lease again as he stood under the torrent. His mind   
   deftly filtering out all but the good, the heartwarming and those that   
   turned his lips up in a half smile. Spent physically and emotionally, he   
   draped himself in a large towel and went to the bedroom, flopping down on   
   the bedspread letting the sleep come, trying to convince himself that the   
   moisture still clinging to his eyelids and lashes was from the shower. The   
   last thing he registered before sleep claimed him was the nagging little   
   fist where his heart normally was.   
      
      
      
   **************   
      
      
      
   The sun was high in the sky when he awoke. Yawning, he relaxed spread-eagled   
   onto the bed, slowly processing where he was as the sunrays bathed his   
   stubbled face with warmth. He could hear the seagulls from the open window,   
   closing his eyes he smiled. He was at peace here, feeling whole for the   
   first time in his entire life, not damaged, almost happy, despite the mini   
   catharsis of last night. He dragged himself off the bed, grabbed some casual   
   clothes and took a quick shower, then went to the small town mall to buy   
   groceries. While he was choosing some exotic fruit, a tall lean woman, with   
   dark flowing long hair and the most exquisite green eyes he had ever seen,   
   stared back at him, stunned.   
      
      
   "Hi. Fox Mulder, do you remember me?" Momentarily stumped, he leafed through   
   the neatly ordered inventory that was his memory until he hit pay dirt.   
      
   "Of course I remember you, err Sasha isn't it? How are you?   
      
   It's had been a while." He unfurled one hand from his shopping basket to   
   clasp the one she offered, giving her a polite smile.   
      
   "Well, fine actually. I'm divorced now, two kids. I'm back working here,   
      
   I have an art gallery. And you?"  She smiled broadly at some notion, her   
   head cocked to one side, thinking, "I see you as an architect, or a writer."   
      
   "No, I'm working with the FBI. No kids, no wife." He smiled almost   
   apologetically, a kernel of sadness passing through his chest.   
      
   "Great job?"   
      
   "Yeah, great job."   He lied...Well some aspects of it were more pleasing   
   than others...and he would never have met Scully.   
      
      
      
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)