Burning





It burns.

He was there in my apartment, like a vampire I'd forgotten I'd invited. 
He attacked me - maybe to get me back for all those times I'd attacked
him as he stood helpless in handcuffs.  He teased me about it, told me
he'd lost his arm.  But his eyes - his eyes said things I didn't want to
believe.  There were so many things I didn't want to believe anymore.

His eyes said trust me.  I didn't want to, I didn't want to believe him
or his story.  I'd convinced myself that I'd been lied to for all those
years and his story was just one more beautiful lie.  Just like him.

And he turned my world upside down again.  He told me about a war in
heaven as I fought a war inside my own mind.  Inside my own body as he
touched it.

His eyes burned green in the darkness.  I couldn't take my eyes off of
them as they burned.  They said trust me, believe me, know I'm with you. 
He was too beautiful, too dangerous, too close to me.  I almost didn't
hear what he said, overwhelmed by him and by what his words and his face
did to me.

And then...then he stopped talking about rebels and danger.  I could see
him stop as if he were deciding what to do.

Then he kissed me, his mouth hot and yearning on my cheek.  It wasn't
the gentle kisses I'd given Scully, it wasn't the soul-kisses I didn't
know I wanted.  It was something else.  The kiss of one who loves. 
As I sat there, stunned he gave me his gun, and said something in
Russian.  I caught only Tovarish, comrade, friend.

I almost pulled the trigger, but I didn't.  I believed his eyes.  I
believed everything in his eyes.

And my cheek burns.


copyright 1998 Debra Fran Baker and NightRoads Associates

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