*Six*
"So ... what's your first name?"
Pause. "Dana."
"That's beautiful."
Pause. "Thank you."
Awkward glance. "I'm sorry I had to cuff you."
"You didn't have to."
"Yeah, I did. You were going to run away."
"You could've let me go." I smiled half-heartedly. Maybe if I could get his pity ... "Hey, Daniel ... these cuffs are a little tight. Do you think you could just loosen them a bit?"
He shook his head. "Not yet." He looked over at a melting candle and studied it intently. "Did you and Agent Mulder want to talk to me earlier?"
"We wanted to ask you some questions about the couple who were killed near here last Tuesday."
Daniel nodded. "I heard about that."
"Did you ever see them or talk to them in town?"
"Nope."
I sighed. This was not making any sense. "Why are you keeping me here?"
"I'm creating a diversion," he explained quietly.
"What do you mean? Has Darren done something with Mulder?"
Daniel looked at his watch. "Probably not yet."
"Yet? What is he doing?!" Distress crept into my voice.
Daniel was silent.
"Daniel? Is he hurting him?"
He looked down. "No, no. He's not hurting him." His voice was low and ... forlorn? This was confusing. He was sinking into some kind of unpleasant realisation. And I noticed I couldn't help but be drawn in.
"Daniel, tell me what's going on."
He reached behind me and unlocked the handcuffs before tossing them onto the ground. "I can't do this anymore," he whispered, and sat down on the floor.
I stood up, fully intending to leave, but stopped when I saw him bury his face in his hands. This better not be some sort of reverse-psychology method of holding a hostage. I knelt beside him and cautiously put my hand on his back. He let out a despairing sigh, and at the same time I felt something wash over me, a wave reverberating through my senses: I don't think he cares.
"You mean Darren?" I whispered. The wave returned, filled with a sorrowful sense of affirmation. I didn't completely understand what I'd asked, or what he'd answered, but the specific words were irrelevant. Go ahead, Mulder, tell me there's something in Somalian folklore about vampires enticing their victims by telepathically evoking their sympathy. God, there probably is something like that, you know ...
I put my arms around Daniel and held him in simple consolation. Gradually my apprehension faded, and I kissed his forehead softly. He met my eyes, set me in slow motion, as I touched my lips to his. I wasn't expecting to fall under a spell. I wasn't expecting to overlook the obvious need for a hundred different kinds of explanation. I denied my conscience its customary vote in my actions, figuring if I remembered – even for a moment – who I was, or why I was here, I wouldn't be able to place blame merely on the town Fort Dodge for flinging me out of character.
Of course I still had no idea what Darren would want with Mulder.
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