Better than IWTB

Date: 2011-02-22 08:58 am (UTC)
This fic filled the void from The Truth better than IWTB, although just seeing them together almost voids the craptastitude of the rest of the movie. This is my original ship in Fandom... so yeah. You know what I love about your writing style? I love the effortless, 3-D-ness of it all. I love that I don't have to be an English Lit student or a professor to appreciate the beauty and the art that goes into what you've written. And you've just really nailed the characters IMO.

So she gets her life started again as a little doctor in a little town. She likes it there with all their New England manners and frozen winters and penchant for seafood.

She moves into her apartment two months after she decides to stop waiting. Once the boxes are finally unpacked, she stands with a glass of red wine and a hand on her hip and thinks, Good.


-- Oh Dana!!

There’s no day she realized she was in love with him – that realization was so slow moving that no specific date can be assigned to it. William’s birthday always burns the most. She calls in sick that day, every year.

-- Oh Gawd the whole William thing. Love the way I kinda don't think about it then I read it here and I remember that episode and my chest aches.

does not allow herself to get distracted by the what ifs of picket fences or the neighbors who would always wonder why they can’t shake calling each other by their last names.

-- This hurts so much because that's all I ever wanted for them. And you captured it so perfectly.

Louis’ smile is too sad for a stranger watching her. It makes her feel pathetic, like her loneliness she so often ignores is on public display on a glass showcase.
“Too bad,” Louis says. “You’ve got some fire in you. And I’m not talking about your hair.”
She laughs a quiet chuckle, but it’s something and feels comforting in the Massachusetts Spring.


-- OMG this made me ache

After one Friday night date with Peter, she finds one Fox Mulder loitering outside her apartment building. Peter is holding her hand when she first sees Mulder, and that is the hand that quickly jumps to her throat when she recognizes his form in the shadows.

-- Sometimes... no many times I can just throttle Mulder!

She can’t tell if the shrug is an excuse or an apology and knows she won’t accept either.

-- You go Scully!

she stares at the ground, because she knows looking up would be dangerous. Gravity would pull her eyes straight to Mulder, and she can’t afford that

-- I love oxymoron of gravity bringing her eyes up to meet Mulder's, love what you did here.

“And Peter?” His eyes wear shields.

-- Love that. As well as the light imagery in the previous sentences.

On occasion, she can picture Melissa shaking her head, saying, “It’s high time to move on, Dana.” She has been trying. She has, and she doesn’t know why she can still find some threads of him still stitched in her sweaters. Only some threads though, and most of the time, really, she’s fine. Just not always, and she thinks that’s allowed.

Allowed by whom – well, that’s a question she doesn’t ask.


-- Oh Man you broke my heart so good right there. And the return of Mulder at the end... is there a sequel?
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