Watcher
By JadedDana
jadeddana@netscape.net
Rating: PG (a bit of language)
Category: V, A, maybe hints of R
Spoilers: various for myth eps through 6th
season
Summary: A watcher's perspective of M &
S's relationship
*******
Watcher
By JadedDana
********
I look through my binoculars at her
empty apartment and remember how much I
hated her once. Strange, isn't it, how
those you hate at first become the ones
you care most deeply about in the end?
At first, I hated her because she
could be with him, and I couldn't even
speak with him. He was not to even know I
was still alive, and I was careful to obey
Their orders and not let him catch a
glimpse of me. But for some reason They
assigned surveillance of him, and her, to
me, and so I have become intimately aware
of every detail of both their lives in the
past 6 years. Their homes, their cars,
their office, all are bugged. I know
those two are naive to think they are only
watched closely when they are 'close to
the Truth'. I've heard them speak of it.
How wrong they are!
I hated her simply because she was
there with him. Then I hated her because
she was close to him; she made him smile.
That used to be MY job. After a while, I
grew to hate her because he trusted her
like he never trusted me. No matter what
it was, he never trusted me completely.
And he protects her. He watches her back
even when there is nothing to fear, as if
he's afraid she'll vanish into the mist
like so many others in his life did--like
I did.
Just when I had decided I should not
hate her simply because she had everything
I wanted, I was given another reason to
hate her. She disappeared, and he was
torn apart. I know that it was not her
fault that They took her, but I still
hated her because her presence (or more
accurately, absence) hurt him. And when
she was returned, I hated her because she
made him smile, and because I knew what
happened to those who were returned. I
knew the pain she would inflict on him
soon. It was just a matter of time.
Later, when he went to New Mexico and
everyone told me he was dead, I didn't
believe Them. I was like her in that way;
in fact, I'm sure if we had made diary
entries about that time when he was
missing, they would sound exactly alike.
We had abandoned our duty to protect the
man we cared about very deeply for just
one moment, and in that moment, he died.
Or at least appeared to. I had been in
London the weekend the shit hit the fan,
and by the time I had returned, they were
already gone. I hated her because she
shot him, and I hated her because she left
him alone, and I hated myself because I
had done the same thing.
I was watching his apartment when
Skinner and she pointed their guns at each
other, and all three of us knew nobody was
going to get shot, although neither
acknowledged that fact then or later. I
saw her face when he walked through the
door. That was when I first knew that she
loved him heart and soul. I don't know if
it was romantic love--I still don't--but I
know that she would give her life for him,
she would kill for him without a second
thought, and she would sell her very soul
to the devil if it would save his. In
this, we are sisters. And I hate her for
that, too.
Later that year, when they couldn't
stop fighting because they were terrified
to let the other close enough to be hurt
again, I hated her. And I hated him at
that point too. I was amazed that her
curse had not materialized yet, but I was
sure that it would come, eventually.
When Mother had that stroke and he
wouldn't leave her bedside, I watched from
a hill outside the hospital, and I hated
everyone who had caused him so much pain.
That included me, I realized, but I
ignored that fact. It was my job to
protect him, but he still got hurt.
It tore my heart out when he saw that
mute little clone and thought it was his
sister. I don't think he realized that 25
years had really passed and that his baby
sister was no longer a little girl. I
doubt he realizes it even now.
I traveled to Russia with him and
Krychek--there was no way I was trusting
that rat to protect him. I knew he
wouldn't. Since I was gone, I could not
observe her reactions to all this, but she
didn't chase after him and I hated her for
that, even when I knew rationally she did
him more good staying here. No one would
ever believe it, but I was the one who
allowed for his escape from the camp, and
I smoothed his exit from the country as
well. I laughed when I heard about
Krychek, before I went to his apartment in
New York and allowed him to cry on my
shoulder. I hate him too, but I suppose I
must love him in some way--otherwise I
would have shot him already, and damn what
Spender says. I suppose the two of us
have almost as twisted and intricate a
relationship as Fox's partnership.
I watched from a balcony when he
walked into the courtroom, and I hated her
when he gave her that hug--I knew that he
was willing to risk everything for her in
a way he was never willing to for me. I
have known this intellectually for years,
but somehow that made it concrete and
real, and I hated it.
I hated her when her first nosebleed
came, but to my surprise, I hated Spender
and all of Them even more. I suppose that
somehow in my years of spending my life
watching theirs, I grew to admire her
strength, her integrity, her ability to
survive loss and still stand tall. I
hated that, too. She was everything that
I was not, at least in her character. In
other areas, we are much alike.
I hated her during those months for
pushing him away, even as I cried quietly
in the apartment across the street from
hers as I watched her solemnly looking
into her mirror for hours during the
night. I suppose she was asking why to
her God, herself, anyone who would listen.
She never made a sound, though. I felt
the pain of this curse I foresaw in a way
I hadn't any of the others. It was
actually at my urging that Spender
approached him with the cure. I was
watching his apartment that night, and I
saw him shoot his watcher. I'm sure he
thought that was the only one. I followed
him to her apartment, heard their plans.
I didn't report it yet for some reason.
But I watched him run into the hospital,
and I'll never forget the look of
desperation on his face as he screamed at
the staff. I hated her then for being
weak enough to succumb to this, even when
I knew she had held out the longest of any
burdened with this curse.
I hated Spender when he forced me to
finally meet with him. It was easy,
pretending to be everything he expected,
but it ripped my heart. I knew it would
actually help him, that he had held on for
too long already, but nothing has ever
hurt me as much as the expression on his
face as I drove off.
I didn't hate her that Christmas,
when she found Emily. I hurt for her so
much that I cried until I was sick. I
hated my father, and Spender, and everyone
who had every been involved in the
Project, in this abomination that would
create children for the sole purpose of
killing them. I think that was what
turned me from Them more than anything. I
hated them with a venom I had never felt
towards her, no matter how much he was
hurt. I am still glad that he was only
there part of the time, that she pushed
him away during this period. It is such a
raw pain, I don't think he could have
handled it if she chose to share it with
him. I noticed that after this, she chose
black more and more often, that she no
longer walked by parks or schoolyards,
that she avoided her girlfriends with
children and even her mother. She was in
mourning much deeper than even my mother
was when she thought she lost me. It was
terrifying, too, because it was a hidden
pain. But that is how Dana is--always a
brave front, even when she's so empty
inside the only thing left is the front.
I'm not sure exactly when I started
to think of her as Dana and not 'the
subject'. I know sometime during her
first year with Fox I began to think of
her as Scully, but sometime between the
cancer and her daughter's death, she
became Dana to me.
That summer, when the witch came
back, and they lost their precious files,
I began to hate her again, but more
because I was supposed to than out of true
anger. I did truly hate her when she
tried to leave him after Dallas. I hated
him for trying to use a kiss to keep her
with him, and I hated her for allowing it
to almost happen. I hated her for making
him go to the ends of the earth to save
her, and I hated him for going. I
followed them there, too, but I neglected
to inform my boss of my trip. I'm sure he
was surprised when he realized Fox was
actually INSIDE their dirtiest little
secret. It would have been fun to watch
his face when he found out.
After they made it out, and Fox had
fainted, I had no choice but to emerge
from my hiding spot behind the hill and
help Dana get him to my vehicle, which had
plenty of gas, and plenty of blankets.
They would have frozen to death if I had
not stepped in. I was forced to give Dana
a quick injection once they were settled,
though, which would make my memory fade
from her mind. I could NOT let her tell
him I was there. Once I was sure they
would be ok, I skied over a few miles (ok,
maybe closer to 50 or so) and let the
crazy scientists living on this hunk of
ice know where they were. They actually
rescued those two. I then skedaddled back
to DC, hopefully before Spender realized I
was gone, and played dumb. I never got
the impression he thought any differently,
but with him, you never know.
I laughed at them so many times that
fall, when Fox lost interest in
everything, and Dana still followed him
all over the country chasing UFOs and
other paraphernalia. It was really sad,
but no matter how angry I got at my
brother when he ran off to Bermuda, I
still laughed, somehow. Dana was no
longer mourning her daughter, although she
had still not recovered entirely. She
still wore black almost exclusively, but
she remembered how to smile again, and for
that I was thankful. Fox went stir-crazy
checking backgrounds and investigating big
piles of manure, but he wasn't as
disillusioned as he had been that spring.
They laugh a lot more now, I've realized.
They have not made any kind of follow-up
to Fox's foolish move in his hallway this
summer, and I am not sure why. Maybe all
the stress they were under in Antarctica
made them forget it. Maybe they realized
what a mistake that would be--at this
point, any kind of misstep would terminate
their partnership and possibly their
careers. But they are closer friends than
ever before, and I don't hate her for it
anymore. I now view this whole conspiracy
the same way they do. An evil that should
be eliminated. However, I can't reveal my
existence to them yet--they are still
being too closely watched by others, less
friendly than I am. I'm just sitting
tight, biding my time until I have the
opportunity to help my brother and his
best friend uncover the truth and abolish
the lies. Until then, I will watch, and
wait.
The End.
By JadedDana
jadeddana@netscape.net
Rating: PG (a bit of language)
Category: V, A, maybe hints of R
Spoilers: various for myth eps through 6th
season
Summary: A watcher's perspective of M &
S's relationship
*******
Watcher
By JadedDana
********
I look through my binoculars at her
empty apartment and remember how much I
hated her once. Strange, isn't it, how
those you hate at first become the ones
you care most deeply about in the end?
At first, I hated her because she
could be with him, and I couldn't even
speak with him. He was not to even know I
was still alive, and I was careful to obey
Their orders and not let him catch a
glimpse of me. But for some reason They
assigned surveillance of him, and her, to
me, and so I have become intimately aware
of every detail of both their lives in the
past 6 years. Their homes, their cars,
their office, all are bugged. I know
those two are naive to think they are only
watched closely when they are 'close to
the Truth'. I've heard them speak of it.
How wrong they are!
I hated her simply because she was
there with him. Then I hated her because
she was close to him; she made him smile.
That used to be MY job. After a while, I
grew to hate her because he trusted her
like he never trusted me. No matter what
it was, he never trusted me completely.
And he protects her. He watches her back
even when there is nothing to fear, as if
he's afraid she'll vanish into the mist
like so many others in his life did--like
I did.
Just when I had decided I should not
hate her simply because she had everything
I wanted, I was given another reason to
hate her. She disappeared, and he was
torn apart. I know that it was not her
fault that They took her, but I still
hated her because her presence (or more
accurately, absence) hurt him. And when
she was returned, I hated her because she
made him smile, and because I knew what
happened to those who were returned. I
knew the pain she would inflict on him
soon. It was just a matter of time.
Later, when he went to New Mexico and
everyone told me he was dead, I didn't
believe Them. I was like her in that way;
in fact, I'm sure if we had made diary
entries about that time when he was
missing, they would sound exactly alike.
We had abandoned our duty to protect the
man we cared about very deeply for just
one moment, and in that moment, he died.
Or at least appeared to. I had been in
London the weekend the shit hit the fan,
and by the time I had returned, they were
already gone. I hated her because she
shot him, and I hated her because she left
him alone, and I hated myself because I
had done the same thing.
I was watching his apartment when
Skinner and she pointed their guns at each
other, and all three of us knew nobody was
going to get shot, although neither
acknowledged that fact then or later. I
saw her face when he walked through the
door. That was when I first knew that she
loved him heart and soul. I don't know if
it was romantic love--I still don't--but I
know that she would give her life for him,
she would kill for him without a second
thought, and she would sell her very soul
to the devil if it would save his. In
this, we are sisters. And I hate her for
that, too.
Later that year, when they couldn't
stop fighting because they were terrified
to let the other close enough to be hurt
again, I hated her. And I hated him at
that point too. I was amazed that her
curse had not materialized yet, but I was
sure that it would come, eventually.
When Mother had that stroke and he
wouldn't leave her bedside, I watched from
a hill outside the hospital, and I hated
everyone who had caused him so much pain.
That included me, I realized, but I
ignored that fact. It was my job to
protect him, but he still got hurt.
It tore my heart out when he saw that
mute little clone and thought it was his
sister. I don't think he realized that 25
years had really passed and that his baby
sister was no longer a little girl. I
doubt he realizes it even now.
I traveled to Russia with him and
Krychek--there was no way I was trusting
that rat to protect him. I knew he
wouldn't. Since I was gone, I could not
observe her reactions to all this, but she
didn't chase after him and I hated her for
that, even when I knew rationally she did
him more good staying here. No one would
ever believe it, but I was the one who
allowed for his escape from the camp, and
I smoothed his exit from the country as
well. I laughed when I heard about
Krychek, before I went to his apartment in
New York and allowed him to cry on my
shoulder. I hate him too, but I suppose I
must love him in some way--otherwise I
would have shot him already, and damn what
Spender says. I suppose the two of us
have almost as twisted and intricate a
relationship as Fox's partnership.
I watched from a balcony when he
walked into the courtroom, and I hated her
when he gave her that hug--I knew that he
was willing to risk everything for her in
a way he was never willing to for me. I
have known this intellectually for years,
but somehow that made it concrete and
real, and I hated it.
I hated her when her first nosebleed
came, but to my surprise, I hated Spender
and all of Them even more. I suppose that
somehow in my years of spending my life
watching theirs, I grew to admire her
strength, her integrity, her ability to
survive loss and still stand tall. I
hated that, too. She was everything that
I was not, at least in her character. In
other areas, we are much alike.
I hated her during those months for
pushing him away, even as I cried quietly
in the apartment across the street from
hers as I watched her solemnly looking
into her mirror for hours during the
night. I suppose she was asking why to
her God, herself, anyone who would listen.
She never made a sound, though. I felt
the pain of this curse I foresaw in a way
I hadn't any of the others. It was
actually at my urging that Spender
approached him with the cure. I was
watching his apartment that night, and I
saw him shoot his watcher. I'm sure he
thought that was the only one. I followed
him to her apartment, heard their plans.
I didn't report it yet for some reason.
But I watched him run into the hospital,
and I'll never forget the look of
desperation on his face as he screamed at
the staff. I hated her then for being
weak enough to succumb to this, even when
I knew she had held out the longest of any
burdened with this curse.
I hated Spender when he forced me to
finally meet with him. It was easy,
pretending to be everything he expected,
but it ripped my heart. I knew it would
actually help him, that he had held on for
too long already, but nothing has ever
hurt me as much as the expression on his
face as I drove off.
I didn't hate her that Christmas,
when she found Emily. I hurt for her so
much that I cried until I was sick. I
hated my father, and Spender, and everyone
who had every been involved in the
Project, in this abomination that would
create children for the sole purpose of
killing them. I think that was what
turned me from Them more than anything. I
hated them with a venom I had never felt
towards her, no matter how much he was
hurt. I am still glad that he was only
there part of the time, that she pushed
him away during this period. It is such a
raw pain, I don't think he could have
handled it if she chose to share it with
him. I noticed that after this, she chose
black more and more often, that she no
longer walked by parks or schoolyards,
that she avoided her girlfriends with
children and even her mother. She was in
mourning much deeper than even my mother
was when she thought she lost me. It was
terrifying, too, because it was a hidden
pain. But that is how Dana is--always a
brave front, even when she's so empty
inside the only thing left is the front.
I'm not sure exactly when I started
to think of her as Dana and not 'the
subject'. I know sometime during her
first year with Fox I began to think of
her as Scully, but sometime between the
cancer and her daughter's death, she
became Dana to me.
That summer, when the witch came
back, and they lost their precious files,
I began to hate her again, but more
because I was supposed to than out of true
anger. I did truly hate her when she
tried to leave him after Dallas. I hated
him for trying to use a kiss to keep her
with him, and I hated her for allowing it
to almost happen. I hated her for making
him go to the ends of the earth to save
her, and I hated him for going. I
followed them there, too, but I neglected
to inform my boss of my trip. I'm sure he
was surprised when he realized Fox was
actually INSIDE their dirtiest little
secret. It would have been fun to watch
his face when he found out.
After they made it out, and Fox had
fainted, I had no choice but to emerge
from my hiding spot behind the hill and
help Dana get him to my vehicle, which had
plenty of gas, and plenty of blankets.
They would have frozen to death if I had
not stepped in. I was forced to give Dana
a quick injection once they were settled,
though, which would make my memory fade
from her mind. I could NOT let her tell
him I was there. Once I was sure they
would be ok, I skied over a few miles (ok,
maybe closer to 50 or so) and let the
crazy scientists living on this hunk of
ice know where they were. They actually
rescued those two. I then skedaddled back
to DC, hopefully before Spender realized I
was gone, and played dumb. I never got
the impression he thought any differently,
but with him, you never know.
I laughed at them so many times that
fall, when Fox lost interest in
everything, and Dana still followed him
all over the country chasing UFOs and
other paraphernalia. It was really sad,
but no matter how angry I got at my
brother when he ran off to Bermuda, I
still laughed, somehow. Dana was no
longer mourning her daughter, although she
had still not recovered entirely. She
still wore black almost exclusively, but
she remembered how to smile again, and for
that I was thankful. Fox went stir-crazy
checking backgrounds and investigating big
piles of manure, but he wasn't as
disillusioned as he had been that spring.
They laugh a lot more now, I've realized.
They have not made any kind of follow-up
to Fox's foolish move in his hallway this
summer, and I am not sure why. Maybe all
the stress they were under in Antarctica
made them forget it. Maybe they realized
what a mistake that would be--at this
point, any kind of misstep would terminate
their partnership and possibly their
careers. But they are closer friends than
ever before, and I don't hate her for it
anymore. I now view this whole conspiracy
the same way they do. An evil that should
be eliminated. However, I can't reveal my
existence to them yet--they are still
being too closely watched by others, less
friendly than I am. I'm just sitting
tight, biding my time until I have the
opportunity to help my brother and his
best friend uncover the truth and abolish
the lies. Until then, I will watch, and
wait.
The End.