From: Megan Graham Date: Sun, 16 Apr 2000 12:33:25 -0500 Subject: Knowing by Meg Source: direct Reply To: "megraham@mts.net" Knowing By Meg (mymango@yahoo.com) Rating: PG for one piece of choice language. Archive: As you wish. Just mail me first and ask permission. Disclaimer: These characters are mine. I own them. I am making money from this fanfic. Classification: Romance. Angst, perhaps. Additional notes at the end. ****************************************************** ************ I wonder, sometimes. What he does and doesn't know about me. I think he knows about the lust. The urge to run my hands through his spiky hair, to grab him, kiss him, throw him to the desk and pounce on him. That part's rather obvious, I'd say. But the real question is: how well does my partner know me? He knows, feels, that sexual attraction between us. How could he not? But I'm not sure he knows me some days. That I'm not a saint. That I can weep, wail, cry out, pound the walls with injustice. Dramatic? Perhaps. But nevertheless, I don't think he knows me. Any more than I feel I know him, some days; those days when he runs off on his own, leaving me to represent order, logic, reason, strength. He counts on me for that. I know that he does. He knows that we go together that way. A duet. There are days when I want to drop it all. Drop that mask, that controlled exterior. For once I just want to fly off the handle, agree with his less than scrupulous methodology, and throw myself headfirst into the abyss. I can't, though. He depends on me. He loves me, too, I think. That's something else that he knows. That's something else that I know about him. He really is a mystery, wrapped, as they say, in an enigma. But there are nights when I want nothing more than to find him, hold him, untie those knots that bind him up until I'm left with nothing but an easily delineated man, a rope with a definite end and beginning, one that you could hold in your hand and understand perfectly. There are other days when even the thought of doing this makes me shudder. I love him too, you see. Knots and all. This is one thing that I'm not sure he knows. He thinks, I think, that he's not worth it. Not worth me. He sees the past, the background. He sees his indifferent family, then looks to mine with longing. Little does he know about the distance forced on me when Dad was gone weeks at a time. Work, he called it. Distance was the only name I knew for it. He sees his former love life, what his relationship with that - woman - did to him. He thinks, I'm sure, that when I come, I exude liquid diamonds. He sees only the differences between us. That's why I don't think he knows me, sometimes. It could be that I don't let him know me. The mask and all. It slips up easily, effortlessly, and I feel trapped behind it. I have forgotten what it is to live as myself. For all my honesty, my dedication to my work, and my plight for justice, I live a lie. But not for much longer. I've decided, you see. Masks don't have to stay up forever. Eventually they fall, strike the ground, and the porcelain shatters. This state of unknowing, that doesn't have to last forever, either. I won't let it. I raise my hand, hesitate briefly, and let it fall. Three times. He answers the door. Tonight, maybe the masks will go away. His and mine. Maybe forever. Or maybe just long enough for us to glimpse each other through the cracks. But there's one thing I know for certain. I need to try. AUTHOR'S NOTES: Surprise! You just read a crossover. Alright, folks, here's the deal. I wanted to write an X-Files/Due South Crossover, but didn't know where to start. So I started talking in a voice I thought was Scully's. Then I thought it was Fraser's. Eventually, I got it through my sleep deprived head that it was both of them at once. The similarities really are striking, if you ask me. And the spiky hair? I cannot blame either Scully or Fraser for their need to run their hands through it - in whatever form, David or Callum, it might take. Oh! So I didn't put the classification/pairings at the beginning - in case you haven't guessed yet, it's MSR and Fraser/RayK. If you archive it, please don't indicate that it's a crossover in the introduction or summary. Feedback is the true source of liquid diamonds. Please send some. mymango@yahoo.com