This story uses lines from The Profiler and a short story by Jack Marshall called The True Meaning of Love.  
Dedicated to Huon, Andrew, Malcolm and Nicole - if not stalkers, then you still really freaked me out!

The Meaning of True Love

I learned the meaning of true love in Washington DC.

It was in an open plan office in the J Edgar Hoover building, when I was delivering a 303 form to someone I was sent to investigate. Seated at the desk was a beautiful man. Our eyes met, I introduced myself, he treated me like shit and dumped me like a bad date. For some time we worked together, neither one of us daring to speak of the growing attraction that sparked between us.

As the days sped by, I found myself hanging around him more often, or, when we were apart - counting the moments until I might see that beautiful man again. I began to wait until after we would go home for the day, wait until he left the building and got to a block away, then start my own walk, following in his footsteps. To my amazement, I realised I was falling in love with him.

Finally, one magnificent fall day, I summoned the courage to tell him: "Mulder, I have to tell you–"

Before I could finish, he interrupted, "I’m sorry, but I’m really late, Krycek. Scully is waiting for me." And he walked on.

His partner. I was shattered. After all the time we’d been together, he still thought of her as his partner? The days seemed endless, I stopped following him home at night. My fantasy had been destroyed. But then, one day I realised how silly I had been. How wrong. Because he was not free to love me, I had stopped loving him. I had fallen into a terrible trap – I realised that my love for him had been dependent on him returning those feelings.

On that day, I understood true love is unconditional. I had spent too much of my life refusing to love another person until I could be sure my love would be returned. That wasn’t love, I realised, it was simply a form of narcissism. The healthy expression of true love does not require anything in return.

And I was in love with him. That day I waited for the alarm to go off with excitement. I raced to our car and returned to my routine of bringing him coffee, candy, gifts from the heart, and listening to his talk of his other partner. I knew that his talking of her was nothing more than a blind. That night I followed him through the streets, to his home. Then I turned around happily and went home. It was a simple matter to aid my employers when they wanted his other partner to disappear. That wasn’t jealousy, we just didn’t need her.

When my employers caused us to part, this meant nothing. I would have dearly loved to have been there for him, while he came to terms with her disappearance and learned she wasn’t that important to him, but I knew my love would be enough for us both during this difficult time.

I hacked into the computers, I needed to know everything about my love. The computers told me his father had not loved him, had made his childhood a cold and miserable time. To prove my dedication I took care of that old buzzard. One old buzzard less in the world, that’s a good thing. I knew he would be happy and he’d know then how much I loved him.

I began to follow him every day. And after a while I began standing across the street from his house. It didn’t matter to me that he didn’t love me; anyone can love a person who loves them back. I was expressing a truer love.

One day, after I’d had been sliding around his building, he saw me. He came outside and punched me several times, and pulled a gun on me. This, I understand, was a test of my love. Too often in life I’d allowed embarrassment or discomfort to force me to hide my feelings. No more. Each blow seemed to strengthen my love for him, as they served only to prove the depth of my feelings.

Of course, she misunderstood, and shot him (and karma took its revenge later, brutally shooting Melissa as Scully had shot my love). That was the first time I realised that he truly cared about my welfare, taking a bullet for me. I loved him more than ever. I returned day after day. As winter turned to spring, he called the Consortium. They warned me to stay away and I smiled. What kind of weak love, I wondered, would be so easily deterred by the cold hand of government? True love, I knew, could not so easily be surrendered.

Oh, those silly old men who sent me to Hong Kong. He followed me there, he couldn’t stay away from me. Many people would have stopped after that beating and the events that followed. But those people are like I once was, dependent on the feelings of others to determine their own feelings. If my love could not survive a week in the bottom of a silo after being infected by aliens, it wasn’t really love; it was infatuation. Lust. So the day of my release I sent him the receipts from the Militia, drawing him to me again. Ah, and again he hit me, intense emotion on his face. I know that only I can create such feelings within him.

The continuation of the beatings did worry me, I admit. When we should have been working as a team, in the darkly starkly romantic settings of the Russian Gulag, he still refused to come to me in gentleness. Was it possible, I wondered, that I had fallen in love with a dysfunctional person? Was the man I loved crazy? His numerous stays in mental institutions would seem to indicate as such. But once again, I knew that if I allowed his few shortcomings to change my feelings, then what I was feeling could not possibly be true love. The true test of love is found in suffering. I gave up my arm for him, what greater test could he give me? I wear the amputation like a heart on my sleeve. My empty sleeve.

I face the most difficult test now that he has had me put in jail for my ‘crimes’. Crimes of passion, crimes of love. He knows I did it all for him, but this is his way of forcing me to prove it, to confess my acts of devotion. It’s been two years now, and to be honest, the doctors here have, at times, made me question whether I still love him.

But I know that is just what they want me to think. And then I remember that true love cannot be defeated by time or distance; true love is eternal. And I know then that no matter how long they keep me locked away, no matter how long they test my resolve, the hour I am free I will return to his side.

For that is the meaning of true love.

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