THANKS: To April, for reminding me of my need to rip out hearts and examine them. To Denise, cause you
are going to hate me after you read this. To The Crew, for being The Crew. And to Jim, for his patience.
I'm not the one who's so far away
When I feel the snake bite enter my veins
Never did I want to be here again
And I don't remember why I came
"Voodoo" by Godsmack
I can't believe that bitch. What the hell is she thinking? What the hell am I thinking? How did I get here?
Where is here, you ask? I'm in hell. And I came here willingly.
Why did I follow her? What did I think I could accomplish by expanding on our relationship?
Why am I sleeping with Scully?
And why don't I feel anything besides anger?
I used to think that I loved her. That she was the only one for me, that I'd never be lonely again. Little did I
know. I'm lonelier now than I've ever been.
And now this, this explosion waiting to happen.
Mix one part Dana Scully, one part Fox Mulder, a dash of Diana Fowley, shake well, and watch out. BOOM!
Now don't get me wrong, I'm glad to see that there is some emotion left in Scully. I really am. I just wish that
emotion was directed at me, and not at an old flame of mine.
Not that I'm much better. When I saw my office, my life's work, burned beyond recognition, I didn't respond
to Scully's offer of comfort. I guess I blamed her, blamed her meddling.
And when she put her arms around me, I couldn't move. I was in shock.
And I still am.
Our relationship changed that night, and I'd give anything to take it back. I sought her body to comfort my
soul. And it left me aching.
But I couldn't risk losing her, as a partner and a friend. So I kept returning to her, kept taking solace in her
embrace.
Oh, who am I kidding? I kept fucking her because I liked the power it gave me over her. Boy, was I ever
wrong.
After I told her I loved her, things began to change. She became detached during sex, uninterested. I tried
to get her to tell me what was wrong. And I received her standard "I'm fine" as a response. Which I gladly
accepted. It took the pressure off of me, allowed me to continue.
Than she started using our relationship as a weapon to wound me, and a chain to keep me in place. Her
denials cut like knives, and her come-ons felt like salt poured into an open wound. But I couldn't stop, either
her or myself.
I was reduced to a whipped dog, both dreading and desiring her touch.
When she said that her interest was personal, and that if I took that away from her she saw no reason to
continue, I knew I was done for. I knew I had to stop being an asshole.
I knew that I had to fix what was wrong. But first, I have to know what that is.
I have to ask her.
Loving Scully is like being a human boomerang. I always come back.
And I have to love her, I know that now.
Please, Scully, help me love you.
Fin