SERVATIS EIUS

BY

AllyinthekeyofX

I was more than a little surprised to see her here although I suppose that on a balmy Summer evening she has as much right to be here as anyone else. I often find myself drifting towards this place at the end of the day.

Just to sit amongst the trees and flowers, enjoying an almost forgotten view of what normal people do during their down time. Watching young couples strolling along, arms entwined as they focus yearning glances on each other. Nothing exists for them but the moment; and then of course there are those who don't have the luxury of being able to block the world out. Still young, but now with the added pressure of keeping an eagle eye on their offspring; kids who take off in front of them, heedless to their parent's warnings not to go too far ahead.

It sometimes seems as though the whole world is here, each, in their own way, appreciating this oasis of life that is tucked away in the corner of a concrete jungle.

I used to jog here; back when I actually had someone to share the experience with, but now, years have passed and I just like to observe.

I know I look out of place - a lone man, firmly stuck in middle age, sitting on the smooth turf in a two piece business suit. But I don't let that small detail deter me. No one ever seems to notice anyway, and if they do, they are much too polite to say anything to me.

Sometimes, I wonder what they would think if they really knew who and what I am.

An agent of the FBI, who long since resigned himself to being alone, spending time in the park, living through other's a life I can never hope to have.

Because I knew I loved her a long time ago. I think I might have fallen in love with her the very day she first walked in to my office; so young, so trusting, so naive.

But over the years I have watched that innocence stripped from her. Piece by painful piece with every new deception, she has become a little older, a little wiser, a little more reticent.

But as I watch her now, it is all too easy to imagine that the years have never been. Dana Scully is a beautiful woman in every sense of the word, and now, as the sunlight bounces off her bright copper hair I am literally dazzled by her.

She is maybe fifty yards from me, offering me a clear, unobstructed view of her as she walks towards the lake. Dressed casually in jeans and a navy shirt, she appears to be much younger than her thirty six years. My eyes flick down to her feet.

Sneakers.

So glaringly white they almost hurt my eyes.

It figures; Scully is not the kind of woman to wear grubby footwear.

She is holding something in her hand, and I find myself squinting against the bright sunlight in order to better determine what it might be.

A small bag I decide, although, containing what I'm not entirely sure.

She is still heading towards the lake and my eyes follow her progress, drinking in her image like a man denied sustenance for a lifetime. I love watching this woman move. She has the grace of a cat, the strength of a great bear; and for all her apparent vulnerability, she has proved herself to me on countless occasions and I realised a long time ago, that this tiny woman has a steel spirit unlike anything I have ever experienced before.

I have found myself, on occasion, wanting to protect her, and if I'm honest, I have kept certain things from her in an effort to do just that.

She has always found a way to thwart my efforts though. Telling me, in no uncertain terms at the same time, what she thinks of me for trying. She is a capable agent in her own right - I know that. But it doesn't prevent me from looking out for her.

As far as she'll let me at least.

Protection on her terms is all I can hope for and I have to be satisfied with that.

She's reached the lake now, and is squatting down at the edge of the sparkling water. Her lips are moving, but I am too far away to make out her words. I'm tempted to move closer, but a fear of discovery prevents me, and then, a small smile plays across my lips as I realise her true purpose for being in the park tonight.

She reaches in to the bag she is holding, and gently throws a piece of bread towards the lake. I watch transfixed as she begins to coax the lone swan from the water towards her, bribing it with small treats until it is only inches away from her.

I've seen the bird before. It is a permanent fixture here. Left alone when on the lake to live in isolation, fully dependent on the humans who frequent this place for companionship. I'm not sure, but I don't think it can fly although I've seen it try a couple of times, only to eventually cease in its efforts to escape this place of beauty; content to linger a while longer in its surroundings.

It is a beautiful bird, a noble bird and it is somehow fitting that it has chosen Scully for a friend.

She is still speaking. I would dearly love to hear those words, spoken I am sure in those soft tones she reserves only for times when her guard is down. It's almost like being a part of a fairy tale as I watch as she coaxes it ever nearer, until eventually, the swan stretches out its neck to take a piece of bread from Scully's palm.

It doesn't snatch.

Its movements are slow, deliberate, as though it senses that this remarkable woman will never seek to hurt it in any way.

Even from a distance, I can see the smile that lights up her face; it's not a smile she chooses to bestow too often, but one which makes my heart twist painfully in my chest.

In fact I would give my life if I thought it would allow her to smile like that more often. Just as I would sell my soul to tell her how I really feel about her.

But I know it could never be. Too much has gone between us to ever allow me to express my true feelings to her. She would never accept me in that way. She considers me to be a part of her life.

Her friend.

And no matter how much I want it, I know deep down it can never be anything more than that.

So I just content myself with watching her, it's a view I will hold on to even as I let myself in to my silent apartment; this view of Dana Scully in the park on a mid week evening, smiling gently as she tends to that beautiful creature before her. I will never mention to her that I know how she spends her summer evenings. Never mention the fact that I have watched her as she feeds that lonely swan in the park.

Tomorrow I will, as usual, be all business. It's what she has come to expect of me and I refuse to upset the delicate balance of our relationship.

A man has joined her by the lake now, and as I squint against the sunlight I realise that it is time to go; uncomfortably aware that I shouldn't be watching her like this. She would be angry and embarrassed, afraid even, if she knew that I had seen her.

Had seen them.

So I begin to rise, cursing softly as my cell phone trills; sounding stark, out of place in these surroundings, and I stab at the send button before the second ring has had time to die.

Time to let go of the image of Scully.

Time to get back to business.

"Skinner."

I allow myself one last glance towards them and I can't help a small, sad smile, watching as Mulder pulls Scully gently towards him, pressing his lips to hers softly as she closes her eyes and literally melts her body against his, her arms snaking around his waist even as his palm glides up her back to settle on the smooth white skin of her neck. They have eyes only for each other and even from here I can feel the intensity that smoulders between them, a passion born of immeasurable suffering as they stand there, like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, perfectly aligned to each other.

The swan senses that it is no longer the centre of attention, and it turns away, leaving them to each other.

Reluctantly, I do the same.

End

Notes – I'm right in the middle of a new chapter for Painting by numbers and needed a fluff interlude. Thanks for reading Ally x