Mulder's Diary
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Dear Diary,
I love her.
I love her with all my heart, all my life, with every fiber of my soul. I'd die for her, kill for her. I'd run to Hell and back for her without the slightest frown. I'd do anything and everything within and beyond my powers. There simply isn't enough vocabulary in the human language to put my feelings for her into words.
It began a long time ago. It began when I first met her in the little basement office of ours seven years ago. I didn't trust her then. But then I didn't trust anyone other than myself at that point. I was so used to isolating myself from the others I hardly knew how to interact with people anymore. Even though, ironically, I was the one who graduated top of my class in Psychology in Oxford. But as I get to know this woman better, I knew she just couldn't be a spy. She's just not the type. She was, is confident, strong-willed, intelligent, stubborn and breathtakingly beautiful. Those fiery red hair and liquid green eyes would capture any man's heart. A M.D. as well as a pathologist, with an undergraduate degree in physics, the ever faithful student of science and hard proofs. She's my exact opposite. My wall of defenses crumbled in front of her. I still remember telling her the story of my life when we were still on our first case together. I hardly knew her then. Heaven alone knew why I confided everything to her in a heartbeat. But I did. I just did. I grew to love her then. Then it hit me. It hit me that her life will be in danger just from standing by my side. The realization that if I really love her, I should shove her away as far as possible, before anything bad happens. For everywhere I go, death and destruction follow like a shadow. Yes, I always carry a shadow with me. The shadow of my lost sister, Samantha. Even mentioning her name opens a wound deep inside my heart that refuses to heal. But this is not about Samantha. This is about Dana. Oh I call her Dana here, deep in my heart. But outside I always addressed her by her last name. And she mine at my request. Another failed attempt of distancing myself with her. But instead we got closer. Somehow whenever we call each other by the last name, it carries a sense of intimacy neither of us would care to admit.
You know, I've had those transfer papers sitting in my drawer for ages and ready to be sent off to Skinner's office anytime. But then I'm a coward. I thought maybe I'll just have her with me for just a little while longer. Then that little while longer became seven years, and it's still going on. I guess I just couldn't bear the thought of losing her forever. I simply can't imagine what life will be like without her. Several times, I've even started to fill out the long, endless form that will sent her away forever, to somewhere alien hybrids are bad movie ideas and government conspiracies are laughable jokes and ghost and vampires and werewolves are just folklore and superstition. At least she will be safe there. No more alien-hunting ghost-busting conspiracy-unraveling futile questing with a badge and a gun. Two badges and more than a few guns to be exact, but whatever. You get the idea.
I always stop at the part when they ask me "Reason for Transfer Request". Because she's too good? Because the cases I, we specialize in are too dangerous and I'm afraid someday I'll find her dead in my arms? Because she's too short and her favorite lunch diet is 6-ounce yogurt mixed with bee pollen? They never seemed good enough reasons. I guess the main reason is that I'm afraid for her life. As I have repeated many times, death and destruction follow me like my own shadow. And it was nothing short of miracles that we're still alive today. There were too much near-escapes than I'd care to count. Not that I'm good at counting anyway.
I remembered the time when Eugene Victor Tooms tried to victimize her. That was the first time. Scared the wits out of me. Though I was careful not to show. The closest I came to losing her, and actually I did lose her for a period of time, was when those cigarette-smoking black-lunged SOBs with cancer abducted her for three months. How I lived through that time was still a mystery to me. And it was a time I could hardly remember. But from what I was told, I functioned like a zombie when she was gone. Not surprising, considering how I have come to depend on her, how I have come to love her. That's why I tried to ditch her from time to time. I wanted to draw a line for her. A line she constantly scratched and erased. A line she had come close to convincing me does not exist anymore. There were also times when she was shaken. There was even a time when she thought I would actually betray her. It hurt then. Even though it turned out she was affected by some TV-induced message that turned everyone paranoid. But it still hurt. But then, I did the same when I was drugged myself. Those bastards drugged my water supply when I was already down with a fever. I was so out of control she even shot me to keep me in line. Pretty far a partner would go to make sure I won't do something stupid and ruin my own life forever. But then, under the circumstances, I couldn't blame her. She's saved my ass more times and I could count. As much as I'd hate to admit it, her science and rationalizations saved me as much as my bizarre theories had turned out to be right. 98.9% was the percentage, I believe. My math's not good, but it's somewhere around there. It might be a little lower, but this I'd admit to no one but you, my dear diary.
Oh, I love her. I really do. Sometimes I can't help myself and I'd start tossing innuendos and what-not at her, just so she would give me that oh-so-famous Scully glare. I even told her "I love you" once. She thought I was delirious. But I really wasn't. I suppose it was a good thing that she brushed my declaration of love off though. I know she wasn't completely opposed to the idea of us getting involved. This I knew from the incident involving a genetic mutant named Eddie van Blundht, who has the ability to morph into someone else in order to impersonate him. That SOB actually tried to pretend to be me in an attempt to seduce Scully. Luckily I made it to Scully's apartment in time, just when Eddie, while looking exactly like me, was about to kiss her. We never talked about what transpired in her apartment afterwards. Not that I didn't want to continue where Eddie has left off. But the risks and the consequences were just too great. Those bastards upstairs might use this as an excuse to separate us. And I simply can't take that chance.
So, I guess things will just have to remain the way they are, for as long as we both work in the X-Files. But that's alright. Because, dear diary, you know and I know, she is my significant other, although probably not in the widely understood definition of the term.
