Date: Mon, 8 Mar 1999

Title: Life's Lessons I: The Beginning
Author: Elizabeth Hanson
Rating: R. For violence and subject matter
Spoilers: perhaps an episode reference or two. Nothing much.
Key Word: Um... all I can say is ring-fic.
Summary: Mulder is forced to bring up his past when he receives a letter.
Things turn out unexpected for both him and the writer of it. NO MSR! just
thought you should be warned.
Archive: Anywhere. Just post my name and email address
Disclaimer: These rather interesting characters are not mine. They belong to
the brainchild whom we all know as Chris Carter. I just like to have fun with
them. ;) Yet, Alexis Mulder has come strictly from my mind.
Comments: Send all feedback to Elizabeth_Hanson@juno.com. When I mean all
feedback it includes anything to that address. I don't care what you say!
Plus, I'm not a psychologist, but I pretend to be so if this is inaccurate,
I'm sorry! :)
Warning: This has Spousal (is that a word) abuse and if that bothers you,
please do not read on. The idea came from my sleep and it would not rest until
I wrote. Forgive me. Also, this has alcoholism, too. So if that also bothers
you, please turn back now.

This is dedicated to Rebecca. I apologize beforehand. Holly too, for all the
pain and suffering I put her through. Hehe. And anyone else who wishes they
had a story dedicated to themselves. This is for you.

"How does it feel, To treat me the way you do?" ~Orgy, Blue Monday. Inspiring
song, recommend it to anyone.
*******
Dear Fox,

It has been nearly 8 years and it still feels as if it has been only a week
ago. By now, you have probably picked up the broken and started over. I have
also, to a certain extent.
I finally got that degree in psychology now, I'm working in a joint
partnership. Hopefully, I can start my own practice within the next year or
two.
Why am I writing this? Well, in one of my courses, I learned to have more of
an open mind and face my own unfinished problems, I guess that sounds right if
I'm supposed to be helping people.
Maybe, I just thought, we could finally tied this off. In the beginning, I
just had a one track mind, while I should've been more open and caring. It's
weird, you think of these things too late. But then, that's life. Plus, people
like me would be out of a job. I'm joking. (Like we did before.) Maybe, I was
just hoping we could end this. Everyday I regret what I did. It was so rash
and final. I know that's what I want but I still have that guilt.
I just hope we can forgive each other and get on with our lives. Though you
probably have already, I feel that I could only end it this way without
permitting a guilty conscience. I just hope you can accept this and we can
come to terms with each other. Goodbye.

Sincerely, Alexis
*********

She reread the letter twice and made sure it was suitable. Closing her eyes, a
tear still escaped. It was done with years ago, but it still felt like a fresh
wound.

Hell, she was young back then- and stupid. Now, she had barely reached 32
years old. She knew she shouldn't blame herself for something that wasn't even
her fault, but she felt in some way she could've prevented it from turning out
as bad as it did.

She wrote out his address on a blank envelope, not bothering to put a return
address. She didn't want to turn him off at all. Even though she didn't have
to add her name. He still lived in the same hell hole, she thought. Probably
kept the same habits, too. She jammed it in the "out" box and gathered her
things and left for home.

-3 days later-

It was saturday, yet another weekend when Fox Mulder sat around in his
underwear and did squat. But it wasn't *that bad, he just got back from Rhode
Island, wrapping up another "doo-doo" case. But this time they found actual
evidence of the suspect making explosives. It wasn't worthless to the FBI, but
he himself didn't give two shits if the guy was making an A-Bomb to blow the
frigging world in.

Oh, but then he wouldn't be able to enjoy that new video tape he ordered
through one of his magazines. He picked up the package laying on top of the
coffee table, opened it and put it in his VCR. Settling back, he grabbed the
rest of the mail and went through it. He had two piles, one for bills on the
coffee table, and then the sweepstakes and catalogues behind the couch.
Towards the end of the pile, he came across a plain, handwritten envelope.

<Can't be mom> He mused, knowing full well of their current speaking terms,
which was nonexistent. But the handwriting was so damn familiar.

Upon opening the envelope he came across sheet of notebook paper, both sides
filled. He frowned, what the hell was this? He checked the envelope to see if
it was the right address, it was.

Unfolding it, he then remembered.

"Jesus", He mumbled. There was no mistaking it. But after eight years??

Reading each paragraph, the more he was swept into the past. Memories of his
acts taunted him, as they would every living moment. He couldn't believe this
was happening. It had been so long since he had heard from her. Not that he
didn't understand why. He understood perfectly.

He laid the letter in his lap, gently, as if it were a piece of china, and
hung his head down to cry.

*****

That night he dreamt. It was the same dream from the beginning. If you could
consider it, since everything had happened in the same room eight years
before.

He had come home late again, like he had so many times before. Staggering and
cursing like the drunk he was.

But she had chosen to stay no matter what. She had taken her vows seriously.
Or more likely was afraid to run back to her parents. They knew what would be
coming to her, and they had been right. She was laying on the couch asleep,
like and angel. An angel ready to fall.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" His voice cried out, his voice hoarse from his
usual bingeing.

She bolted into a sitting position. Even in the darkness of the apartment, he
could see her battered face. Even in his dream, it seemed to highlight every
bruise and cut.

"I- I wanted to wait up for you. It was late, I started to get worried." She
tried to explain. She had stayed loyal, even to the end.

"*I wanted to wait up for you." He mimicked, "You know what I told you last
time when you waited up."

"Yes. B- but-" She trailed off, already knowing defeat in this forever losing
battle.

"Don't you ever listen?" He yelled, suddenly enraged, hate glowing in his
eyes, "I thought I already taught you a lesson."

"You did. I'm so sorry Fox."

"Always saying 'sorry', never owning up to it. That's what you always do."

With all of his strength, he took her and threw her against the wall. She
crumpled like rag doll on the floor, sobbing.

"This is what you deserve!" Kicking her in the sternum. There was a sickening
crack of bones crushing from his force.

"Please," She cried. "I'm sorry, please..."

He never listened.

He had found her laying on the ground the next morning, nearly beaten to
death. At first, he was in denial. He couldn't have down this. Not to Alexis.
Surely someone had to have broken in. But he knew the truth.

He knelt down beside her. Feeling the presence, she opened her eyes. Those
precious green and gold eyes, now blood rimmed and glazed over. Blood covered
almost every visible part of her body. He noticed shards of glass laying
around her. He felt and overwhelming sense of nausea and almost lost his
stomach.

"I'm so sorry." He cried, stroking her dark hair. It was always his turn to
apologize in the end. Tears streamed down his cheeks.

"G- get," She whispered, blood streaming out of the corner of her mouth when
she spoke, "away." She sighed in exhaustion and began to close her eyes.
Before she did, though, Mulder seen the fear in them. The fear on *him. It
wasn't supposed to turn out this way, never.

******

"No!" He yelled, startled. He sat up and turned on the lamp on the table next
to the couch. Before he turned it on, his hand recoiled as if it were burning
hot. He knew it wasn't the same lamp he had used, hell, he shattered it over
her body, but it still gave the effect. Instead he laid in the darkness. It
was better anyways. Darkness for the devil.

He was in the same room it happened. Same couch she had slept on before he
came home and ruined their lives forever. But this was the punishment he set
for himself. He refused to leave. It was hardly a punishment, compared to what
she had received.

He couldn't fall back asleep the rest of the night.

-Sunday morning-

Alexis laid awake wondering what the hell she had done. It had been over, why
the hell did she have to send that godamned letter and stir up more memories.

By now, he had to have received it. Probably the day before. She wondered how
he felt. How it felt to be in her place. Feel the pain from different view.

Oh hell, he had when he seen her awake the first time in the hospital. He had
cried for hours on her lap, repeating over and over how sorry he was. She
hadn't said a word to him. She was still scared he would do something, no
matter how well monitored the place was. She imagined the smell of the liquor
on his breath, soon after he would start screaming at her and blaming her for
everything. Then he would beat her again. This time, though, she wouldn't make
it to see the light of day again.

She had insisted on divorce soon after. Actually, she had still been in the
hospital. But for his sake, she lied about what happened. She didn't want to
ruin his career. She wasn't malicious in that way. Soon after, they had
separated and then divorced.

At first, she was a wreck. Her parents scolded her saying they knew that was
going to happen. the sin of the devil had been written all over them. She
believed them then. They had always been right.

She started going to college. This time for psychology instead of fashion
designing. What had she been originally thinking? Fashion designing? God, how
many people needed help in the world and she picked *that?? At nights, she
went to meetings, it was hard for to accept what she had become. What
statistic, marital battering. She never thought it would come to that.

The degree had come. But not easily. With each lesson, she had to relive the
hell she had been put through. These problems she was learning to treat, were
her own. Part of the term required psychiatric help themselves. No matter how
stable you were. She eagerly took it, knowing how bottled up it was.

She now worked in the same office with the psychologist who originally
evaluated her. She loved it there, but she still wanted to move on.

Dr. Eberth had helped her so much. Releasing everything she had been hiding
all those years. It had changed her into an entirely new person. Except on
relationship terms.

She knew, though, from her studies, the chances of ever being married or in an
intimate relationship was slim to nil. She desperately wanted to break that
mold, but knew it was near impossible. Just because she knew of it, she
couldn't change the books.

And that's why she was now laying there, alone. She had moved into a ritzier
section of Arlingtion. She was able to afford it on her own. Not that she had
a choice. Her parents had disinherited her after everything happened.

Not that money mattered. She had what she needed, and was happy. Sure, she
didn't have every luxury, but she certainly had enough to be considered in the
"mid- upper class" range.

Finally, she got out of bed. It was freezing in her apartment, she shivered
and went to turn up the heat.

She tried to pack her apartment with everything. Make it homey, but it was
phony. Truth was, it was too alone for her. When she was young, that was the
last thing she wanted in life. To be alone. Now it had become a reality and
she didn't have much trouble facing it.

Right in the beginning, before college, before anything. She had tried to kill
herself. Nothing seemed worth it anymore. Life was just a game, and it didn't
matter if you won or lost, it still went on. Back then, she called herself too
weak, for not pulling through. Now, she called herself smart.

She grabbed a piece of danish in the kitchen and went to her living room. On
the way, she stopped in front of the hallway mirror and studied herself. She
looked so different than before. And that wasn't counting the scars etched in
her skin. She was thin. Too thin. Some women would laugh and say there wasn't
such a thing, but she didn't look healthy. Before, she had weighed more, maybe
even aiming towards chunky. It didn't end there. Before- years ago- she had
almost a junior high feature to her. She lost that quick. Now, she looked well
over her age. But the worst thing was her eyes. They had her whole life etched
in their features. All the pain and fear that no one would normally imagine in
a person.

Disgusted, she sat on the couch and turned on the tv. She flipped through the
stations until she found some old rerun of Saturday Night Live. It always made
her smile, and it was entertaining. Now, someone was on "Taxi Cab Confessions"
telling the cabby how they caught anal warts.

She had started to doze when she heard a knock at her door. The noise was
relentless and whoever it was seemed impatient. Which was odd, because she
hardly had any visitors, besides UPS.

She decided not to check through the peephole. Who gave a shit? As she opened
the door, she wished she had. And then run the other way.

Alexis had not seen him since the divorce. She refused to. Now here he was,
sitting on her doorstep. If she had the nerve, she would've kicked him in the
stomach and slammed the door in his face.

Instead, she stared at him, dumfounded.

"I- I got your letter." He began. "Sorry, I had to come."

She nodded. Ignoring what he had to say. What the hell did he think he was
doing? Just coming here like this and-

And it was her fault. She had sent the letter. He had responded. Now she had
to pay.

"Uh- huh." She mumbled, deciding weither to let him in or not. She decided to
wait a couple moments to see what would come.

" I know the reason you sent it was to let go. Clear your conscience. I'm not
stupid. I know this was the last thing you wanted. Me here on your doorstep.
But, I couldn't ignore it. I'm sorry."

She opened the door wide enough to let him through. She closed it, but decided
not to lock it, she was still fearful of this man.

God, he looked so different. It looked like he aged about twenty years. There
were half moons under his eyes and he looked severely underweight. But
underneath that all, he was still there. He was the same man that did
everything.

"How did you find me?" She asked, oblivious of the stupidity of the question
until she heard it herself.

"The phone book." He grinned a little bit. She felt like smacking it right off
his face.

"Yeah, ok." She paused before continuing, "I really didn't want to see you
again."

"I know. I'm sorry, I really am. I wish I could undo all of this, I really
do."

"You could have prevented it in the first place." She snapped, realizing the
sting in the words.

He looked at the ground as if maybe his shoes would tell him what to say next.
Instead she took the opportunity.

"Sit down." She sighed, already regretting what she said before. "You're
already here."

"That's ok, I should be going, really. You're right." She heard his voice
quaver.

Now she knew why she originally fell in love with him. The way he acted. His
emotions, his personality, his touch. But she had experienced the wrong side
of each of those. For once, she was seeing the man she really loved.

"No." Her voice was stern, yet vulnerable. She let out a whimper. "Stay."

She looked up into his face. The pain she saw there was overwhelming. She just
wanted to take him into her arms and make it all go away. He had obviously
went through hell his whole life. Let alone these eight years she missed.

Silently, he went over and sat on the couch. Almost cowering at the far end.
She found more than enough room on the other end of it, she wanted to keep her
distance.

"I should've never wrote that letter." She began, tears finally filling her
eyes. "It just fucked everything up again."

Mulder stared at her, he was shocked. She seemed to be blaming herself for it.
In the letter, she seemed so confident of what she was saying, but now she
seemed like a scared child.

"No, no." He said. "You had every right. I'd be pretty pissed off if I were
you, too. What I did, no one deserved it. Not you especially. I loved you, and
I abused that. I didn't want to, I didn't. But I couldn't stop." He felt the
tears streaming down his cheeks. Not afraid anymore. I was now or never.

She didn't answer him. Didn't look at him. She was looking at a picture she
had on the wall. Anything but the other direction. She couldn't handle it. She
started to sob. It hurt so bad, why wouldn't it end??

Mulder looked at her. The fear grew with each sob. She was going into
hysterics. He should've never come. She was fine before this. Once again, he
managed to fuck everything up.

He reached out and touched her. Her body convulsed from the touch. Self-
consciously, she had started rocking herself back and forth.

"It's ok," He whispered, knowing he out of anybody would not be able to soothe
her. Anyways, he pulled her into his arms and held her. To his wonder, he
grabbed his hand and squeezed it.

At first, she was scared when he touched her. The last time he had did that
changed her life. Without her even knowing it, this touch was going to change
it again. But she had to regain control, she thought. This wasn't going to
help anything.

She tasted something bitter in her throat. It took her a few moments to
realize it was blood. From what? She wondered. But then she felt stupid for
asking that, even to herself. She ruptured some membrane in her nose from
crying. Now she knew she really had to stop.

Trying to pull away, she tried to tell him. "I'm bleeding." She had said, but
from crying and nerves, it sounded like she was talking in a different
language.

He looked down at her face and noticed it. He remembered finding her the next
morning. Covered in blood and glass from the previous night. He pulled his
shirt up and put it underneath her nose.

"Hold it up." He said, making sure she didn't tip it too far to cause it to
run down her throat.

She listened, using one hand to try and hold the shirt and the other to hold
his hand. No matter what, she had already ruined both their clothes and the
upholstery of the couch.

"I have it" He said as she reached to hold the shirt, "Just calm down."

It finally slowed down and came to a stop. She wanted to sigh in relief, she
hadn't had a nosebleed like that in ages. She separated from him and studied
the damage she did to his clothes. Nothing was going to take it out.

"I'm sorry." She said, her voice still shaky as she tried to regain her
emotions.

"It's nothing. Looks better than some of my other shirts." he massaged her
back in slow circles. He remembered he always did that after a fight. It was
his way of trying to win her over again. He knew that's what he was doing now,
but was afraid to accept that.

"I stopped." He said.

"What?" Knowing full ahead of time what he was going to say, but wanting to
hear it from him still.

"Drinking. The day you left. A day too late, I know."

"No, you stopped. That's never too late." She leaned against his chest once
again. She felt the blood from his shirt on her cheek. They were both already
a mess, so it didn't matter.

"To me it is." He paused. "I already lost what was most important to me."

She laid there, stunned. Deep down, she knew it was coming, but didn't know
when. The only thing that snapped her out of deep thought was hearing him cry.

"Don't." She said. "Please. I'm here."

He kissed her head and put his hand on the back of her head, gently stroking
her hair. His other hand was still on her back.

"I love you. I was such and asshole. I'm sorry. I really am."

Now, Alexis regretted being such a bitch from the beginning. If she listened
to him first. Then she would've understood a lot faster.

"I love you too."

"You shouldn't." He said, "I don't deserve it."

"Don't say that. You do."

They laid there together, as if to make up for the lost years. She loved him
so much. She knew she thought she made that mistake before. But it wasn't a
mistake. She trusted this was the Fox she had seen years ago originally. The
one she had loved. She believed the other one wasn't going to come back. She
knew she was right.

His cel-phone went off to ruin the moment.

"Dammit." He mumbled and let it ring.

"No, get it. It might be important."

"Yeah, my wife." He grinned to signal he was kidding, but realized it wasn't
too funny. "Sorry."

Alexis nodded and settled back down against his chest. She heard the voice on
the other line when he picked up and wondered if he had been telling the truth
when he said he had a wife.

"I'm busy. No, Scully, I *really am. What? Does it matter? Yeah, uh- huh. Talk
to you later, bye." He hung up the phone and looked at her. He noticed the
quizzical expression on her face.

"I work with her. She's my partner," He paused. "At the FBI." He added in case
it sounded perverted originally.

"Yeah, thanks for the lowdown." She grinned and wrapped her arms around him.

"Anytime. Wait 'till you meet her." He chuckled softly.

"Why, is she a bitch?"

"Depends whom you ask and when. But really, she's pretty good."

"They say that about me, too."

"Never." Mulder smiled. "Unless it's that time of the month."

Yes, Alexis thought. This is going to work out.

END (for now)

I'm still on the edge weither to continue or not. The second last sentence I
wrote of this, I decided I might do a little series or something. Well, at
least 2 parts, since I thought of an idea for that. Thanks for reading, I do
appreciate it!
Elizabeth_Hanson@juno.com
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