From: susanf34@comcast.net   
      
   *NO ARCHIVE*   
      
      
      
   Title: Slow Burn   
   Author: Susan   
   E-mail: susanf34@comcast.net   
      
   Classification: story   
   Keyword: angst   
   Rating: PG   
   Spoilers: One Son, brief references to Tithonus,   
   Pilot, Fight the Future, The End, Two Fathers   
      
   Archive: No archive without permission.   
   Disclaimer: On paper, they're not mine. In my   
   head, they are.   
      
   Author's notes: When I wrote the first part of   
   this story back in November, I had no intention   
   of adding more to it, and I certainly never   
   expected to be adding nine more parts to it,   
   but then I read your letters, and I knew I *had*   
   to write more.:) Thanks for letting me know that   
   you were touched by my story and for reawakening   
   my love of the written word.   
      
   More notes at the end.   
      
   Summary: There's really only one thing she wants   
   from him, one thing she needs, no matter how   
   painful it may be.   
   *********************************************************   
      
   Slow Burn (1/2)   
   by Susan   
   ~~~~   
      
   She's never done this before.   
      
   No, that's not true.   
      
   There was the time she went to a crummy bar with   
   a man she barely knew and drank more than she   
   should have and had a tattoo burned into her skin   
   then went back to the apartment of the man she   
   barely knew and almost got herself killed the   
   next morning.   
      
   But that was two years ago when she didn't know   
   what she wanted out of her life.   
      
   Or what she wanted from Mulder.   
      
   Now she thinks she knows and earlier tonight she   
   tried to tell him that she knows...of course,   
   she tried to do it in front of his friends, which   
   probably wasn't the best move on her part, but   
   still...what the hell was so hard to understand   
   about "Without the FBI, personal interest is all   
   that I have?"   
      
   Was he really that clueless about her feelings   
   for him?   
      
   Or was he so pissed off at her for going behind   
   his back to find out more about Diana that he   
   only heard what he wanted to hear?   
      
   Either way, he hurt her.   
      
   So now she's sitting in this crummy bar drinking   
   a drink that she doesn't really want but that   
   she thinks she wants but it's not really making   
   her feel any better and it's not stopping the   
   ache she's had in her heart since he looked at   
   her with his cold eyes and said his cold words   
   and on second thought maybe she does know why   
   she wants that drink.   
      
   He didn't believe her.   
      
   He dismissed her emotions and her instincts and   
   everything else that makes their relationship   
   work.   
      
   And he chose not to believe her.   
      
   The same man who believes in everything chose   
   not to trust what she was saying.   
      
   Tipping her head back, she takes another drink   
   from the glass, closes her eyes as the bitter   
   liquid burns the sides of her throat.   
      
   What was she thinking letting him into her life   
   the way she did, letting him challenge her way   
   of thinking and show her a world where anything   
   is possible?   
      
   The truth is, she wasn't thinking.   
      
   She was feeling.   
      
   But how long can she stay away from him in this   
   crummy bar, away from what she wants to tell him?   
      
   She doesn't know.   
      
   She just knows that she needs to.   
      
   And it is at that moment of realization that she   
   hears her phone ring, amidst all the noise, amidst   
   all the people around her who are drinking and   
   talking and completely oblivious to the fact   
   that the world could be ending in less than 24   
   hours.   
      
   It's him. She knows it is. Even without picking   
   it up and looking at the caller ID, she knows   
   it's him.   
      
   It's always him.   
      
   But she takes it out of her pocket anyway, looks   
   at the number, at his name, and wonders just how   
   much longer she can keep doing this.   
      
   A day? A month? The rest of her life?   
      
   She knows the answer, but closes the phone and   
   tucks it back into her pocket, then lifts the   
   glass to her lips again and closes her eyes.   
      
   "You didn't answer your phone," says a low voice,   
   surprising her from behind.   
      
   It's his voice, the same voice that told her she   
   was the only one he trusted, that she was his one   
   in five billion.   
      
   The same voice that sarcastically told her she   
   was making things personal.   
      
   Lowering the glass from her mouth, she places   
   it on the bar and clasps it with both hands,   
   but doesn't turn to look at him. "And you didn't   
   believe me."   
      
   "No, I didn't," he says as he sits down on the   
   empty stool beside her. "And I'm very sorry for   
   that, Scully."   
      
   Was he? Was he really sorry, or was he just   
   saying it to make himself feel better?   
      
   So she turns to face him in this crummy bar she's   
   been sitting in for the last hour and she blocks   
   out all the noise around her and all the anger   
   inside her and she looks into his eyes to see   
   what's real and what's not.   
      
   And then she knows.   
      
   "We need to talk about this," he says, his eyes   
   still fixed on hers, his hand softly squeezing   
   her forearm, then retreating back into his lap.   
      
   "Yes, we do," she says, taking one last drink   
   from her glass, then placing it back on the bar.   
      
   "My apartment isn't too far from here," he   
   suggests as he stands up from the stool.   
      
   But she already knows that, just as she knows   
   that's why she chose to come here in the first   
   place.   
      
   Standing up from her seat too, she tries to   
   look calm and in control even though her head   
   is pounding and her body is thrumming and could   
   somebody please make the room stop spinning?   
      
   She feels his arm brushing against her shoulder   
   then, feels his warm breath on her neck as he   
   leans in closer and whispers, "I think I should   
   drive."   
      
   "Okay," she says simply as they make their way   
   through the crowd and head towards the exit.   
      
   And though she knows she shouldn't talk to him   
   when her mind's so clouded, her heart so heavy,   
   she takes a deep breath, then walks through the   
   door and does what she always does.   
      
   She follows him into the dark.   
      
   ~~~~   
      
   She didn't know what to say.   
      
   Of course, her head was still pounding from the   
   drink she'd had, but still, she hadn't even   
   finished what was in the glass.   
      
   So, why wasn't she saying anything when she had   
   so many emotions buried inside?   
      
   And more importantly, why wasn't he?   
      
   After all, he's the one who said they needed   
   to talk, and now he's driving and he's not even   
   looking at her when they come to a stoplight and   
   if he doesn't say something in the next thirty   
   seconds, she swears she's going to scream.   
      
   Of course, she's not really going to scream,   
   but she may start swearing if he doesn't say   
   something, anything to break the uncomfortable   
   silence hanging between them.   
      
   And then he does.   
      
   "We're almost there," he says as he flips on the   
   turn signal and works his way over into the right   
   hand lane.   
      
   "That's all you have to say?" she grumbles, making   
   sure to keep her eyes straight ahead.   
      
   "That's all I have to say...for now," he replies,   
   and even though it's dark in the car she's sure   
   she can see his knuckles turn white as he grips   
   the steering wheel tighter.   
      
   For now, huh?   
      
   Well, she's got something to say for now too, and   
   he's going to listen to it whether he wants to or   
   not.   
      
   "You hurt me, Mulder," she blurts out, still   
   keeping her eyes straight ahead because if she   
   doesn't keep them straight ahead and she looks   
   at him she knows she's going to say too much   
   and even though she wants to tell him what she's   
   been keeping inside, she doesn't want to tell   
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)