*Fifteen*
He was coming back. Of course he was coming back. This would be fun.
We were dining that evening around seven o'clock. Daniel conjured up a wonderful asparagus dish and entertained me with his usual charming anecdotes. Afterwards, we had tea (I must get some more – we're running out) and sat by the fire.
"Shall we go out?" he asked.
"Where would we go, that we haven't been a million times?"
"Let's go to Vegas."
I laughed. "Too tired."
"I'll carry you."
"Carry me all the way to Vegas?"
"Maybe not. Why don't we go home?"
"Because we have to stay here. Only a little while longer."
"It's been too long. When are they coming?"
He looked so sad. "Soon," I said. "I miss Australia too."
"It'll be different by the time we get back." He put his arms around me and rested his head on my shoulder.
"Everything will be different." I touched his face. "Mulder's coming back, you know. He has to. He has to uncover the truth."
"How long will that take?"
I looked at the grandfather clock in the corner. "Oh, about nine minutes," I said.
Dan smiled vaguely. There was a comfortable silence for a minute or two. After that, it grew faintly uncomfortable. I didn't want to invade Daniel's thoughts – we didn't do that with each other, except during sex – but I got the strange sensation that he wasn't as happy as he was letting on. Stepping on egg shells, I asked, "Is anything wrong, Dan?"
He hesitated, then mumbled, "No." As far as I could tell, it had been a very long time since Dan felt the need to lie to me. Why was he doing it now?
"I don't believe you," I said gently.
Pause. "Neither do I." He uncircled his arms from around me and sat up slowly. "I wish ..." he sighed to calm the quiver in his voice, "I wish I always felt this way."
"What way is that?"
I wanted to see his eyes, but he looked away. "Loved," he said. "I think ... I think sometimes you feel more toward ... your victims."
I could not believe what he was saying. "What? You think I love the people I kill more than I love you? God, Dan, where have you been? That's insane," I told him.
"I said you feel more toward them. I know it's not the same love. I just ... I wish I could do that to you." Now he met my eyes. "I used to do that to you."
"I don't know what you're talking about – I don't kill for sex, if that's what you're implying. I have sex to kill."
"Oh please. You think I don't know how much you enjoy what you do? You think I don't know that you were never planning to kill Agent Mulder? You forget that I know you, Darren. You didn't even need him, you just wanted it," he spat out.
"Well where were you all that time? What were you and Agent Scully doing? Hm?"
"Oh, you – you fuck! I can't even tell you what happened there because right now I am having a hard time believing that I was upset over you when she consoled me. You've become so caught up in this life that you can't even remember what it's like to be human, to feel the need for companionship deriving from the constant threat of your own mortality. Take away that threat and you – you go bonkers. Don't you realise that we've had the very essence of life taken away from us? I thought you could handle it, but apparently not." With that, he stormed upstairs.
"Dan, wait," I called. I didn't want a fight like this. He had hurt me with those words, and I realised that words don't hurt unless they're true. It couldn't be – I never meant to neglect him or our relationship. On the surface I always thought I had sex to kill, and enjoyment was a side effect. But it was true that I'd never intended to kill Mulder. I felt awful.
Daniel slammed the door after himself and I stared at it for a while. Then I decided it was best to leave him alone, maybe later he wouldn't feel so vulnerable. I went back downstairs and returned to staring into the fire, now contemplating my past, my present and my overwhelming future. Suddenly there was a sharp knock on the door. I answered, fully expecting to see Agent Mulder, but instead found a man slightly taller than I, with dark green eyes, wearing a black leather jacket. Panting slightly. Holding a gun.
"Do it to me," he rasped.
excuse me?