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The Trouble Is...
by Merri-Todd Webster

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DISCLAIMER: Not to me but to Chris Carter belongs the 
glory of having invented these characters and then cast them 
with such winsome actors.  I make no money off this little 
exercise; I'm just keeping the voices in my head happy.

All I can say about this is it's all Mulder's fault. (Ya hear that, 
Spook?)

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The trouble is I don't know which of them I want more. 

Her subtle strength, or his obvious ability to command.  Her 
sharp, clean mind, or his intensely focused will.  Her soft red 
mouth, full and yielding under mine, her perfect small breasts 
pressed against my chest, or his hard thin mouth making 
*me* yield, his muscular arms molding me against *his* 
chest.

The trouble is, I have to work with both of them.  I see them 
every day, with time out for weekends and the odd stint in 
the hospital.  We've all been through so much 
together--some of it I don't even want to remember.  

The three of us have gone farther into the darkness than 
anybody else I know.  And the two of them have gone farther 
into the darkness in me than even I have--the darkness of 
the hole that was left when they took Sam away.

Samantha.

Sometimes I wonder, am I just looking to her for the sister 
who was taken away?  Do I just want him to replace the 
father who was killed?  Then I think of how I would feel if I 
saw desire in her eyes, or in his, and I know it's not that, it's 
sex, it's lust, the desire to be possessed....

Either one of them is strong enough to possess me, the way 
I want to be possessed.  Either one of them is strong enough 
to take me and make me forget... everything.  And neither 
one of them will ever do that to me, unless I ask for it.

I'm not strong enough even to ask.  I know that.  But the truth 
is, it's really the only thing I'm able to want.

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The trouble is I don't know which of them I want more. 

One so wounded, so fragile, so much needing to be taken 
care of.  The other so strong, even stronger than I am, strong 
enough to take care of me when I need it.  One so beautifully 
sensitive, wearing his vulnerability with his suit; the other 
beautiful as a diamond is beautiful, hard and cold, but 
precious.

When I'm alone, when I have moments to myself, I fantasize 
about both of them.  Both at once, in every way you can 
imagine, and maybe a few you can't.  Not what you'd expect 
from a good Catholic girl, but then I'm not a girl any more, 
and not a very good Catholic--a skeptic, a devil's advocate in 
the court of belief.

Which do I want more: to hold or to be held? To take charge 
or to give up control?  To live by faith or by the facts? The 
truth, if there is one, is that I want both, *need* both, and I 
don't know how to ask for it, because I need it from both of 
them.

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The trouble is I don't know which of them I want more. 

It's hell seeing them both in my office every day, so perfect 
side by side, looking innocent, as if they don't know what 
they're doing to me. Him tall and intolerably elegant in the 
regulation suit, a real clothes horse, a fashion model who 
just happens to carry a gun.  And her all energy compacted 
into that tiny, modestly clad body, a redhaired, blue-eyed 
flame, a killer who just happens to dress like a model. You 
know, I've always been a conservative man. It's been good 
for my career.  I've passed the right tests, played the right 
games; I risked my life for my country when people back 
home wanted to spit on me for doing it.  I've earned the 
authority I carry.  And it means nothing because I can't use it 
to get what I want.  I just go home feeling like my mind's a 
blank screen, running endless porno movies of myself with 
the two of them.

It just isn't fair. 

He knows I risked my job and even my life in the hope of 
saving her life.  He would have done the same thing.  He 
doesn't know how much I did it for him, too, because losing 
her would have killed him. Losing both of them would kill me. 

It just isn't fair. But the truth is, I never expected it to be.

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end