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Another Long One

Chapter Text

If losing sleep were any indication
Of the loving that I've missed
I would wrap myself around you
But how likely can that be when I feel like this
And if life were not unfortunate
And reason blew like summer through the trees
I would stop to let you catch me
But I think that you would find me on my knees

^^^^^^^^^

Date: Thu, 27 May 1999 01:43:34 -0400
To: surlyone@mindspring.com
From: M.F. Luder
Subject: Another Long One

Can you believe I just got back to the hotel? That fucking SAC Watts kept
me there until after midnight, running the profile over and over. He won't
accept that I'm right, and I know I am, and if we're not lucky another
little boy will die tomorrow night. Maybe even this morning. Jesus.

There's nothing else I can do tonight. I know, Walt, I know. But it's
going to be another long one tonight, no matter. Just me and my . . . good
intentions. I want to blame Watts, Scully, the killer, you, I don't know,
but I'm thinking, Walt, no one did this to me. No one forced me to do
this. I do it because I want to be right. I need to be right. You know me.
The last word.

I just can't afford to be right anymore. I can't sleep tonight, I can't
face the nightmares of those little boys, curled up, almost like they're
asleep. Almost. God, it's going to be another long one tonight.
You know, I never have the nightmares when we're together. So, losing
sleep is my barometer of missing you. I look at the empty side of the bed,
at the bags under my eyes in the mirror, and I want to wrap myself around
you. Not very likely. Even if you were here, I don't think I could let you
touch me. Not when I know what's out there, in the shadows.
But if this weren't happening, if we were alone in some beautiful, silent
place, I would stop running and let you catch me. Really catch me, for
good. The way I am tonight, I think that you would find me on my knees.

Shit.

I have to tell you, just thinking about you is oddly comforting. But it's
dangerous, I know. When I'm home, I can never talk to you like this. I
can't . . . be vulnerable. I couldn't take pity from you, Walt. I need you
to hold me, and I need you to fuck me, but I can't let you in all the way.
Not yet. But tonight, I really want to.

The last time I took my head out of my head enough to notice, you were
right next to me being-- Being kind, I'd have to call it, in that gruff
way of yours. But I don't give you much, do I? And I'm so scared that one
day, you'll finally change your mind.

God, Walt, I'm exhausted, and I shouldn't write about important things
when I'm this tired. I don't know if I should send this. Hell, you should
certainly be in bed by now, so if I change my mind I can probably get the
guys to delete it from your account or something. No, no, I'll send it.
Just, please promise me something. You won't mention this. You won't hold
it over my head.

Just know, know that I'm trying. That I know what you do for me. That I
love you, for more than your ass and your tongue and your expensive
mattress.

It's going to be another long night tonight, in more ways that one, Walt.
Just, write me in the morning, will you? Send me a joke or tell me what
you watched on TV last night. Something stupid so I know you understand.
I'm going to go take a shower, try to get those kids out of my head. Oh,
what I said about being right? Don't you dare tell Scully.

Yours,
Mulder