Really?
He made me trust him.
Made you...
He betrayed me.
And yet you still trusted your life to his hands in Russia.
He knew the language.
And that's the only reason?
Yes.
...
He helped destroy my life.
Your life was set on the path to destruction the moment your father
let them take Samantha.
They took the one person I depended on because he stopped me from
getting there.
They took Scully because she was working with you.
He killed my father.
Did he?
What?
There's no proof. And he's always denied it.
Well, he's hardly likely to admit it, now, is he?
Good point.
Thank you.
And that's why you hate him? Because he did what you didn't have the
courage to do yourself?
What the hell do you mean by that?!?
Oh, come on. There's no point in lying. I mean, you're talking to
yourself. I know what you know. Remember?
It's not the same.
Isn't it?
Thinking about something and doing it are completely different.
True. It takes nothing to think about something. But choosing to do it
requires the courage of your convictions and the ability to face the
repercussions.
And because of those choices, the paths we take will always lead in
opposite directions.
Then how come you keep ending up in the same places?
Because the rat bastard likes following me to taunt me.
It's not that simple. Your lives are inexplicably linked. Bound
together by a thread that runs deeper than anything else. It's as though
one can't exist without the other.
Don't be so melodramatic. We're different people.
Are you?
Truth and lies. Light and dark. Black and white.
There is no black and white. Merely shades of grey. And you're not so
innocent yourself these days.
He has no soul. His eyes are like ice.
Wrong colour.
What?
His eyes—they're the wrong colour for ice. Ice is colourless; his
eyes are a perfect green. And framed with lashes that people would kill
for.
I would kill him if I had the chance. Beautiful green eyes, or not.
You already have had the chance. Twice. And you admit you find his
eyes beautiful?
The only thing that comes out of his mouth are lies.
And the hint of a kiss so soft it was barely there, and so pure it
branded you for all time. Oh, and nice subject change, by the way.
Thank you.
My pleasure.
I hate him.
You've said that.
Well, it's true.
Who are you trying to persuade?
I don't need to persuade anyone. It's the truth.
You know, it's strange how you've dedicated your whole life to finding
the truth, and yet, you're quite willing to lie to yourself.
What do you mean?
You know what I mean.
I hate him.
That's the third time you've said that. You just haven't said why.
Well? Why do you hate him?
He killed...
No! The truth this time.
Because his eyes can see into me, and his kiss seared my soul.
Now we're getting somewhere.
I hate him because...
Yes?
Because I love him, and I don't want to.
Why?
Why do I love him? Damned if I know.
No, why don't you want to love him?
What kind of question is that?
Quite a reasonable one. So, why don't you want to love him?
Because he's a liar, a traitor, a murderer.
You know, for someone who has spent his life searching for the truth,
you seem to spend an inordinate amount of time avoiding it. So, for the
final time, why don't you want to love him?
Because his gaze ignites me. Because his touch makes me forget. I hate
him because he's the only one who could ever make me give up the search
for Samantha, the truth, everything. But most of all, I hate him because
I need him. And that terrifies me.
The sound of the apartment door opening shook Fox Mulder out of his
inner turmoil. Slowly, the FBI agent raised his head, and looked at the
man standing in his doorway. The newcomer was in shadow, the only light
coming from the one unbroken light bulb some way down the hall. Even so,
Mulder knew who it was. Reaching out a hand, he flicked on the lamp on
his desk, casting some light around the room. Never once breaking his
gaze with the piercing green eyes, Mulder smiled. "I'm glad you're here,
Alex," he said softly. "There's something I want to tell you."
END...
I Believe
by Claire
I hate him.
