From: Andrea Bhuruth Date: Tue, 28 Mar 2006 22:38:50 +0100 (BST) Subject: The 21.10 to Hammersmith Source: direct Title: The 21.10 to Hammersmith Category: Mulder/Scully Romance Spoilers: Post The Truth Summary: The doors beeped, the man with the briefcase got off, and he realised he couldn't have done it without her. Rating: G Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, although I've often wished I did! Author: Autumn Notes: There really is a 21.10 train to Hammersmith in London. It leaves Paddington Station and makes the journey in 12 minutes. Proof that happiness doesn't really take time. Comments go to andrea@majesticabooks.com - website: www.majesticabooks.com ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ He liked the sound of the trains, fast and buzzing as they sped along the underground lines like snakes beneath the city. He felt safe down here. Away from the eyes that he suspected watched their every move. Perhaps one of the strangers on the train at that very moment was one of those shadow men. But it didn't think so. He couldn't imagine why everyone looked so miserable, watching the black walls whiz by. He liked the seclusion. It was a strange sensation, not carrying a gun around. Behind him, fingers wrapped around the red pole, eyes watching the electronic doors, she was a vision of sanity. She had never been to London before. The vast underground system amazed her and she greedily drank in each station, pointing to the more famous ones. Piccadilly Circus, Trafalgar Square, Kensington, Kings Cross, Covent Garden and most recently, Paddington. She said her nephew liked Paddington Bear. He smiled, knowing that she wondered if William would have liked the little bear in the rain coat too. It hurt too much to wonder, so he stopped, instead focusing on the squeak of the breaks and the whoosh of the doors as they breezed open, inviting passengers from Royal Oak into his privacy. She leaned close, allowing a man with a briefcase to ease past her, his elegant English accent apologising for bumping her shoulder. It was uncommon, he knew, for a Londoner to apologise. Not that they were rude. Perhaps just too busy. In too much of a hurry. He wasn't in a hurry anymore, and the knowledge made him smile, pulling her close as he grinned into her hair that smelt of jasmine and something spicy. "It's such a pretty name," she whispered, as Royal Oak disappeared from view. He didn't reply. She could sense his agreement, his love for this city had radiated from his pores from the moment their plane touched down in the bustling airport that was Heathrow. He said he was just someone with no name here and people would never be aware of the life they had just barely escaped. Not a single soul, as far as he was concerned, knew of his brush with a death sentence or the baby they had been forced to leave behind. Westbourne Park and Ladbrook Grove came and went, collecting and dispensing nameless faces along the way. He was glad they'd made the train, as it stopped only briefly at Paddington. It felt liberating to be on the move. The train had pulled into the station at nine ten, departing within seconds, leaving behind one man with a guitar and a musty old cap. That man hadn't wanted to go to Hammersmith, though. He was contented playing a Gypsy Kings melody on the worn strings of his instrument. He hadn't been bothered that there was only four pounds and a few copper coins in his hat. "We're so lucky," she said, interrupting his mindless thought, tilting her head to look at him. The train reached another station and moved on again before he spoke. "Yes we are," he agreed, pressing a kiss to her temple, wondering if he was foolish to be so grateful for their fortune instead of mourning what they had lost. He lost himself in thought, and resurfaced only when the doors beeped, the man with the briefcase got off and he realised he couldn't have done it without her. Any of it. And it was there, on the 21.10 train from Paddington to Hammersmith that he whispered in her ear, the one thing he didn't want anyone in the world hearing - not even the silent passengers behind him. The people who couldn't harm them. It mattered to no one but her, but he knew it was an sign of affection that was long since overdue. "I couldn't live without you," he said. She didn't reply. She didn't point out that they were at Goldhawk Road. Her eyes shimmered with crystalline tears, and he suspected she couldn't read the sign. It didn't matter. Finally. Finally her tears were those of joy and for a few moments as the smell of the platform breezed into the train, there was happiness in their souls. Perhaps it wouldn't last. But for now, they were normal, and he wanted nothing else.