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Date Posted: 19:00:12 04/25/02 Thu
Author: Islandgirl
Subject:

A new fanfic from me

This is just a little vignette I recently felt inspired to write. It's set during season six of XF, it's short and it's PG-rated; to tell more than that would ruin it. Read it if you want and let me know what you think.

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I look in the mirror above the sink of the women's restroom at FBI headquarters and brush a strand of red
hair out of my eyes. I don't think I'm a bad looking. Not beautiful, mind you; in a world where long legs and big breasts are two of the standard harbingers of female beauty, small-breasted, petite women learn early in life that they're never going to be considered drop-dead gorgeous. But for a woman in her 30s, I'm nice enough looking.

My mother asks me, frequently, why I work such long hours and why I don't date more. She's offered to fix me up with everyone from members of her church to her next door neighbor's nephew to her dentist. What I can't tell her -- what I've just recently gathered the courage to admit to myself -- is that these two questions are flip sides of the same coin and can be answered with the same sentence: because I've fallen in love with a man at work.

I work closely with him, which is why I never mind the overtime or coming in on the weekends. I don't think he feels the same way about me, though. Oh, he cares for me to a certain extent; our professional relationship wouldn't have lasted as long as it has, and wouldn't function as smoothly as it does, without a certain amount of mutual rapport between us.

Every great once in a while, there is a tiny flicker of something more. He'll grace me with a touch, a smile, a meeting of eyes or a flirtatious remark. I'm not sure what to make of these events, despite the fact that I replay them over and over in my memory. He's a man, after all, and I'm a reasonably attractive, reasonably young woman with whom he spends a great deal of time. Maybe these occasional slips from the professional demeanor he usually maintains between us are nothing more than a reaction to the stress under which he frequently operates.

There have been other women in his life, although none recently. I'm aware of one, in particular, who shared a relationship with him that I will probably never be asked to share. Hell, I'm not even allowed to call him by his first name!

Still, he exerts an influence of me. I'm aware of things he went through, years ago, that have contributed to making him the man he is today. And I know that, while he may not love me or desire me, to a certain extent he *needs* me; and being needed is a nice feeling.

I've been in here long enough. He'll be wondering where I am. I slip out and walk briskly down the hall to the office that bears his name on the door. I've just resumed my seat when he finishes the phone call he's on and twists in his chair so that he can meet my eyes.

"Will you be able to stay on a bit later tonight, Kimberly?" he asks me.

"I'll be happy to," I answer, bestowing my best secretarial smile on Assistant Director Walter Skinner.

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Replies:

;-) -- DBTL, 16:26:59 04/28/02 Sun
- Thanks!! -- Islandgirl, 09:02:58 04/29/02 Mon
  - Well it worked! -- Scully'sMyHero, 19:15:24 04/29/02 Mon
    - Glad you enjoyed it! (NT) -- Islandgirl, 08:44:01 04/30/02 Tue
  - Well um no -- DBTL, 19:28:12 04/30/02 Tue
    - Re: Well um no -- Islandgirl, 21:22:37 04/30/02 Tue
      - Oops! -- detoured, 16:24:06 05/01/02 Wed
        Re: Oops! -- Islandgirl, 13:51:03 05/05/02 Sun