I am not sure when things changed. I can't even recall our first real kiss. His kisses are always the same. I don't like this. He looks at me with his emotionless hazel eyes and it seems as though he doesn't even love me. He holds me, kisses me and puts his hands all over my body, but I cannot feel the love anymore.
It was different before we crossed the line. He would gaze at me with loving eyes, sometimes sneak in a hug or a kiss on my forehead. We would talk late at night about anything and everything but it was the fact that we could understand each other that really mattered. He would call me at all hours of the night just to tell me about his day, although I had been with him in the office. I think it surprised him that I no longer scolded him for doing this, and eventually it became a habit. Soon, I would wake up on the first ring, I never really fell fully asleep until he called me, but once he did, no one could have woken me.
Somehow in a moment of weakness, I led him to believe it was alright to kiss me, and I am not talking about a peck on the cheek. I was probably drunk. Actually, I think we both were. But that does not excuse it. So we kissed again, and more often than not, I suppose sex was on his mind. Then one day everything just went wrong.
Mulder wanted me to go to England with him to check out some crop circle that a computer program had predicted. I told him I didn't want to go, so he left me behind. I went to the hospital and somehow, by freak accident or otherwise, I stumbled upon my college professor.
I have fond memories of Daniel. Yes, we were once in love. But he was a married man, and I couldn't carry that weight upon my shoulders, so I left him, and medicine. I left it all behind, and nobody ever knew why. Except for Daniel. He could read me like no man had ever been able to before. He made me feel special, and I loved the way he would kiss me. We never got far enough to consummate the relationship though, because he had a wife and child at home, and I was just another girl to him.
I told all of this to Mulder that night, over a few bottles of beer. Somehow we ended up in the same bed, and somehow we ended up having sex. And, how could all of this happen over a few lost causes, a broken heart, and a miracle? Well, I can't tell you that. But what I do know is that I hate it. We never really talk anymore, and we never just gaze secretly at each other. We never hope that one day we will kiss, that one day we will be together as one. We never do anything together anymore, except for go to work, come home, and have sex.