03/11/00
Too Long


	<...Happy Valentine's Day, Alex.

- Fox>


	I finish reading the note, tears blurring my vision. I've become a
creature of routine lately; I never expected to wake up and find this. It's
thrown me completely.

	It seemed so innocent at first glance. A flash of white in my
periphrial vision as I grabbed a mug off the shelf. I figured it was simply
a note from Mulder asking me to pick up some milk or something.

	Funny how domestic we've gotten.

	But when I approached the coffee maker and saw the envelope sitting
atop it, I knew *something* was up. Being the man I am and having the life
I've had, I assumed it was something bad. I saw a thick letter from Mulder
with the name "Alex" carefully scrawled on the outside, and I was sure he
was kicking me out.

	The past few months have been like a dream. Literally. In my weaker
moments I've had quite a few daydreams where Mulder and I became partners.
Went on late night raids gathering information to save the world, and then
came home to domestic peace and harmony.

	In my dreams we also fucked like crazy, but I figure that I've
had no right to complain. Every moment with Mulder has been a blessing.

	So I've taken every bit of kindess, every bit of happiness and
friendship that he's been willing to give me, and I've never asked for more.

	But now he's offering. My God! He's offering me *everything I've
ever wanted*. What have I done in my life to desere such a reward?

	I look down at the letter in my hands, so lovingly written. So
cautious. He's so afriad. So afriad I'll reject him. My poor, fragile Fox.
He's been rejected so often he's just come to expect it. He doesn't realize
that I love him, too. Doesn't realize that I was just as afriad to tell him
how I feel.

	I may have taken more bullets in my life, but he's just proven that
he's really the brave one.

	I love him so much... and I just want to get on with the rest of our
lives. The rest of *our life*, together. No more secrets, no more holding
back. All the warmth we've shared in the last few months, plus more.

	How am I supposed to wait until six o'clock for heaven to begin?

	I don't want to spoil things now. I don't need to rush. I've been
waiting years for this, I can wait a little longer. Patience is a virtue,
and it's one I pride myself on having.

	But I want... I just *want* him. More than anything. And now I
know I can have him.

	But he doesn't know he can have me... shit! I look down at the
note again, read his nervous words. He must be a wreck. He's probably
pacing around the office, worrying Scully and pysching himself out.
Suffering in what he thinks is unrequited love. I can't let him suffer.

	I grab the phone off the table, and dial his cell phone number.
I hear the phone ring, and take a deep, nervous breath.

	I can't let him suffer.

	And we've both been waiting too long.


End