Title: He's Such A Beautiful Man Author: dayflow email: dayflow@hotmail.com Finished: 16 July 1998 Disclaimer: as long as it says i don't own 'em and ain't making any $$$ it's kewl... Archive: go for it Gossamer! NOT ATXC! i'll post it there myself. anyone else, just let me know where it is! :-) Category: V A Keywords: MulderAngst Scully/Other Spoilers: none that I know of. Summary: Other POV of angsty Mulder at an FBI function. Wonder why he's so angsty? Feedback: yes please! :-) dayflow@hotmail.com Author's Notes: I love MulderAngst! I was just wondering what would make Mulder angsty... and this image of Mulder against a wall brooding came into view... much thanx to SA Mully and Ary for proofing! And Lisa, whatcha think? *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* He's such a beautiful man. I've always admired him from afar. He may have a "spooky" reputation, but I've never seen it. I admit that I'm biased. That I can't see him as that, for I've placed him on a pedestal no one can topple. And it's not just because of his looks. Every female in the secretarial pool, hell! every female in the *building* as commented on his lean body, his brains, his slightly off but still sexy features. Me more than most. But there's more to him that no one knows about. He's so mysterious, such a loner. My imagination runs wild with thoughts about his supposedly non-existent private life. But underneath that suave exterior, I sense a troubled soul. A soul that needs some elusive, ethereal truth to make him whole. It's like he's a little kid with a half formed picture puzzle, searching for the pieces to bring the image into view. But the pieces are scattered all over the house and he stumbles and falls trying to pull them out from the locked cabinet shelf and from behind the washing machine. And for some strange reason I can't comprehend, this makes him the noblest, heroic, most human man I know. But I wouldn't wish his life on anyone. The danger, the lies, the search, the reputation, the condescension, the loneliness... It makes me want to mother him. It makes me want to cry. Especially now. The look in his eyes... I never expected him to be here. He rarely attends FBI formal functions, even when ordered to. Especially since he's dateless at a Valentines Ball. I watch him. He's in his slightly wrinkled tux, leaning against the wall, in the shadows, nursing a watered-down soda in his left hand; his right runs through his hair before it gets shoved in his pants pocket. Maybe it's the smoke, the red and white lights glinting off the disco ball, or the darkness in which he hides that add a desolate air around him. Maybe it's the isolated area he stands in or the slump in his shoulders or the bowed head. Maybe it's nothing. Maybe it's everything. But he looks so lost and alone by the wall. And it's all because of *her*. I may watch him, but he watches her. In her black, floor length, body hugging evening dress, her red hair pulled back into a French twist with curly tendrils brushing her cheeks. The newly made Mrs. Jonathan deShan, or as he calls her, Scully. His eyes watch her every move as she glides her arm around her husband's waist. Leans her head against her husband's shoulder. Nuzzles her nose against her husband's neck. And he can see in her eyes all the joy and peace he could never give her as she and her husband sway in time to the music. He can see that she doesn't see him, doesn't even know he's there. He can see that her eyes are for her husband alone. Every look, every touch they share makes him retreat further and further into the wall, into the darkness. But the moment he sees them start to lean into a kiss, his body straightens and tenses up, as if the wall has suddenly become pure flame. He jerks his head away and half walks, half runs to the door. He brushes past my shoulder, muttering a "Sorry" as he goes. I catch a glimpse of his face. Pain. Sadness. Anger. Loss. All etched into his features and displayed in his eyes. How I want to reach out and comfort him! I wish it was *I* who could take that pain and sadness and replace it with joy. *I* who could cleanse away the anger and the loss. How I wish that he would accept me and my comfort! How I wish, for once, he'd be happy and at peace. But I know it's not possible. I'm not strong enough to pull him off of the cliff edge. I'm not bold enough to break into his heart. I'm not smart enough to solve the questions with him. I can't help him find the pieces to the puzzle. I can't put it together with him. That's *her* job. But I know that really... I can't bring him down to earth. I can't take him off my fantasy pedestal and bring down into my reality. For in the end, like all the troubled souls of my past, he'd bleed me dry and break my heart. And I can't go through that again. Not even for him. It's too bad... He's such a beautiful man. THE END dayflow http://users.ez2.net/dayflow/xfiles/Obsession.html daisyd143@ez2.net dayflow@hotmail.com *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* MSNBC: If Fox Mulder discovered that Larry Sanders was a clone would you have the heart to kill him with an Ice pick? David Duchovny: I think he would stab him but it wouldn't be with an ice pick. *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*