From: polly122456@yahoo.com   
      
   Title: The Perfect Life (1/1)   
   Author: Polly - polly122456@yahoo.com   
   Classification:  310 Words, Scully POV, MSR, Post   
   Episode   
   Rating:  PG-13   
   Spoilers:  Chimera   
   Disclaimer: "The X-Files" and its characters belong   
   to Chris Carter, 1013 Productions, and FOX.  No   
   copyright infringement is intended   
   Archive:  If you want it, it's yours   
   Feedback:  Always welcome and greatly appreciated   
   Summary: Finding the perfect life   
      
   *   *   *   *   *   *   
      
   I hear the front door close, keys jangle as they're   
   tossed on the table. He's home. I breathe a sigh of   
   relief and wait. I don't need to call out. He'll find   
   me; he's a trained investigator.   
      
   Speak of the devil.  Rumpled suit. Heavy stubble.  He   
   looks tired.   
      
   "Hey," he says, lightly touching my shoulder. "Still   
   washing off the seamy underbelly?"   
      
   "Four showers, three baths since I left that   
   stakeout," I reply. "I almost feel clean."   
      
   "Clean," he whispers. "I wish I felt that way."   
      
   I scoot forward in the tub and beckon to him. "Come   
   on in, the water's fine."   
      
   His mouth curves into a reluctant smile. "Better not.   
   I haven't had much luck with bathtubs lately."   
      
   "When you fall off a bike, you get right back on," I   
   counter. "Same rule applies to bathtubs."   
      
   He chuckles softly and hesitates, but soon sheds his   
   clothing and eases his bruised and battered body into   
   the tub. His arms envelop me, clinging to me as a   
   drowning man might a life preserver. He rests his   
   chin on my shoulder and the words come tumbling out,   
   the abridged version of his Vermont X-File; the   
   housewife whose obsession with the "perfect life"   
   literally created a monster.   
      
   His purging complete, he pulls me into a tighter   
   embrace; cleansed on the inside, satisfied to let hot   
   water and bath oils take care of the rest.   
      
   I should tell Mulder that every little girl dreams of   
   the fairy tale version of the "perfect life": adoring   
   husband, comfortable home, beautiful children. I had   
   a dream like that too, once upon a time. But Ellen   
   Adderly never realized that you rarely get the neatly   
   packaged fairy tale; something as fickle as   
   perfection is in the eye of the beholder.   
      
   I'll tell him later. Right now, until the water   
   cools, I'm content in my lover's arms. Peaceful.   
   Clean. Perfect.   
      
   The End   
      
   *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *   
      
      
      
      
      
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    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)