Nager by Spooky

Category:V,A
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Absolutely None!
Summary: Mulder reflects on his childhood.

Feedback would be greatly appreciated! Please send to
vstachou@sun.iwu.edu

Thanks to the Emu, for editing and thought provoking commentary.

***********

I almost drowned as a child.

This thought seems relevant to nothing, as I sit relaxing in the
jacuzzi tub, letting the bubbling waters soothe my aching muscles.
Damn, I can't wait to see the look on the faces of the Bureau
accountants when they realize how much this conference costs.

But my perusal of fleeting childhood images becomes utterly
necessary as I try to answer the question thrown out carelessly to
me earlier by my partner.

"Mulder, what's so great about swimming?"

Ever the altruist, she appeared at my doorway earlier to offer
herself as a running partner. Our last case was a killer, and she
knew of my inherant need to unwind through exercise. But there
was no way that I would give up the luxury of swimming in a pool
larger than the average bathtub, even to make my partner happy.

But her question keeps ringing through my brain. So to answer it,
my mind hurtles back into the dark mists of memory. To times that
are better left forgotten. Before my sister disappeared. When I
recall that the idylic picture of our life before the tragedy is
just as false as our happy content lives afterward.

I remember the salt air and the warmth of the sun as an almost
viseral sensation. My skin tingles as I think back to the hours
on the beach at the Vineyard. My mother, covered by a huge floppy
straw hat, holding tightly to her baby girl. My father, absent.
Off somewhere talking with the other fathers, away from the loud
cries of children and the sof murmurings of mothers. And my
excitement at watching the waves crash into the shore.

The creation of the white foam at the breaking of the wave a
perfect outlet for the curiousity of a preschooler. The desire to
explore, to get closer to those amazing walls of water, and to
shriek in delight at their noisy destruction on the beach.

And then to feel the terrible pull of the current. The unknowing
step which takes you from observer to participant in the rolling
dance. I can still remember the tugging at my feet, until I fell
down deeper into a state of perfect tranquility.

If it had been up to my parents, I would not have survived that
day at the beach. Instead, an observant lifeguard snatched me
out of the watery abyss into which I had fallen. But the thing
that stands out clearest in my memory are those moments underneath
the tempest.

The silence.

An experience like this should have driven me away from the water
permanently. Phobias are developed from lesser incidents than
this. But instead I found myself drawn to the water, despite the
worries of my parents or the teasing of my friends. Somehow in
those moments, knowledge was imparted to me. And I swam and
swam until I found it.

There comes a point when one swims for long distances at which it
is just as easy to continue as to quit. And at that point, nothing
is more important than continuing. Forcing myself to breath, to
kick and stroke becomes the focus of my existence. And at those
moments I am at peace.

Because under the water, the world is silent. And the silence fills
me until I am no longer capable of remembering anything but the
most basic of movements to keep me alive.

I swim to forget.

THE END.

Thanks for reading. Feedback to vstachou@sun.iwu.edu
Oh, and Nager is French meaning to swim.

-Spooky
***** vstachou@sun.iwu.edu http://www.iwu.edu/~vstachou *****
The random quote of the week:
Michelle: Did they just call that guy a LOSER?
Val: No, they called him a LUGER!