SEEING IS BELIEVING
I watch her.
She doesn't know I watch her.
She probably wouldn't like being observed, being scrutinized, but I can't help it. She's too fascinating to look away. Everything this woman does is calculated -some movements are subtle and barely noticeable- but all are premeditated. Nothing she does is by accident. If she turns to you, a frown etched into her porcelain features, you know you'd better run, because Dana Scully is pissed, and you don't want to mess with this woman when she's pissed. It's the same with her smile. I've seen her melt even the toughest guys with that smile, but she doesn't use it nearly enough. She claims she doesn't have reason to. Having watched her, I'm inclined to agree. She's been through so much, more than anyone else I know. And she's still sane, still brilliant. I have to give her credit for that: I would have cracked long ago. But not her; she's strong, so much stronger than I am.
I watched her last year, from the very moment I first met her. I watched her suffer as she searched in vain for Mulder, for her partner, for her best friend. I watched her spirit slowly leave her -her spirit, her fire, her passion, her energy.so many of the things that we love about her.all gone- as the months passed. Then, when we finally found Mulder, I watched her crumble. It was as if she had completely given up. And why shouldn't she? I was already amazed that she had lasted as long as she had- by that time, the rest of us had come to terms with Mulder's death. She, in a rare change of roles, was the only one that remained deluded. I have never hoped so much that someone would be found -not even with Luke Doggett- as I did those couple months searching for Mulder. I just didn't want to see her like I had seen Doggett after we found Luke; Scully didn't deserve that. And then we found him, and he was cold and dead and gone...and just like *that*, she was too. Sure, she kept going with her job, with her life, but I think that was more for her baby, for her family, than it ever was for her. It was as if she was a hollow shell, physically alive, but drained of all emotions. Watching her, I could see that Mulder *was* her emotions, was the reason that she had carried on. And now, it was as if she was carrying on only for her baby, for that last essence of Mulder- all that she had left of him. And it *was* Mulder's- there was never any question in my mind of that. I didn't know how long they had been intimate; whether it had been going on for years, or whether it was a one- time occurrence. I didn't know- and I didn't care. It's easy to see, plain as daylight, that the person Scully cares for the most is -was- Mulder. The Lone Gunmen have told me that it was the same with him, too. Even as an outsider, you could see that these two lived solely for each other. And then, suddenly, it was just Scully, just one, just half of a whole. Truth be told, were it me, I don't think that I would have survived.
I kept watching her.
I watched her, about a month before her son was born. I watched as SHE watched a man come back to life after being dead; watched her question her beliefs; watched her hope again. I saw her, frantic, as she exhumed Mulder, setting herself up for failure, not even daring to consider that her theory wouldn't work. And then, I watched as Mulder came back, against all odds. I had never thought that possible, and I still can't quite grasp it. I think it may have been a miracle, a blessing solely for Scully, because god knows that after all of this, she deserves it.
I watched her...and him -the both of them, now- as they tried to readjust, get their lives back to normal. I watched, during the little time they had left before the birth, as it slowly dawned on Mulder that he was going to be a father, that he and Scully had created a miracle. It was incredible, like watching a little child discover Santa Claus. I watched Scully come back to life, in the same way that Mulder had -in his case, it was literally, but hers was no less real- and smile again, laugh again. She was friendlier with John, friendlier with me -not that she'd ever been discourteous. It seemed that she was friendlier with the whole world in general. She would whistle to herself sometimes when she thought no one was listening -Dana Scully, whistling!- and it was all I could do to keep from laughing, because I knew that she was thinking only of Mulder, of getting home to him. She was like a newlywed, only a thousand times more innocent. I knew she was worried about the impending birth, but for those couple of weeks, it was as if she had put her worries aside and was content.
When her son was born, I watched her. I watched her terror as the hybrids -those silent, faceless, beings- came in, and felt complete helplessness as I realized that there was nothing I could do. I heard, rather than watched, her scream -in pain, in terror- and I felt my heart break as guilt overwhelmed me. Guilt that I couldn't do more to help this woman. I have to admit, I was scared shitless at that point. I watched her confusion and her sigh- or in this case, sob- of relief as the hybrids turned, silent and solemn as ever, and left. And then, I watched the most beautiful thing- I watched her face light up, a smile crease her tired, tearstained eyes, as a voice outside screamed frantically for her. And I understood. Mulder. I hurried outside, and saw her relief mirrored in Mulder's face when he saw me, when he saw her. Then, for the first time in quite a while, I didn't watch. Mulder rushed past me into the room, and I stayed out on the porch, knowing that they needed time together, time alone. Knowing that, even with Scully's need for immediate care, everything would be all right now. They were together.
Two days later, I watched Scully fall apart again, only this time, it was a thousand times worse. This time, Mulder hadn't been taken away, abducted, kidnapped- he had left. This time his leaving had been voluntary. John said that Scully had made him leave, had asked him to for his own safety, but still... One way or another, whether it was his choice or hers, Mulder's leaving had been a voluntary decision. You could see the weight of that in Scully's eyes, the sorrow that she carried. It had been an unavoidable decision, because she loved Mulder -that was indubitable, no longer a question in anyone's mind- but it had been a decision nonetheless. Once again, I watched her, knowing that she was carrying on only for her son.
I'm still watching.
I watch her.
She doesn't know I watch her.
She probably wouldn't like being observed, being scrutinized, but I can't help it. She's too fascinating to look away. Everything this woman does is calculated -some movements are subtle and barely noticeable- but all are premeditated. Nothing she does is by accident. If she turns to you, a frown etched into her porcelain features, you know you'd better run, because Dana Scully is pissed, and you don't want to mess with this woman when she's pissed. It's the same with her smile. I've seen her melt even the toughest guys with that smile, but she doesn't use it nearly enough. She claims she doesn't have reason to. Having watched her, I'm inclined to agree. She's been through so much, more than anyone else I know. And she's still sane, still brilliant. I have to give her credit for that: I would have cracked long ago. But not her; she's strong, so much stronger than I am.
I watched her last year, from the very moment I first met her. I watched her suffer as she searched in vain for Mulder, for her partner, for her best friend. I watched her spirit slowly leave her -her spirit, her fire, her passion, her energy.so many of the things that we love about her.all gone- as the months passed. Then, when we finally found Mulder, I watched her crumble. It was as if she had completely given up. And why shouldn't she? I was already amazed that she had lasted as long as she had- by that time, the rest of us had come to terms with Mulder's death. She, in a rare change of roles, was the only one that remained deluded. I have never hoped so much that someone would be found -not even with Luke Doggett- as I did those couple months searching for Mulder. I just didn't want to see her like I had seen Doggett after we found Luke; Scully didn't deserve that. And then we found him, and he was cold and dead and gone...and just like *that*, she was too. Sure, she kept going with her job, with her life, but I think that was more for her baby, for her family, than it ever was for her. It was as if she was a hollow shell, physically alive, but drained of all emotions. Watching her, I could see that Mulder *was* her emotions, was the reason that she had carried on. And now, it was as if she was carrying on only for her baby, for that last essence of Mulder- all that she had left of him. And it *was* Mulder's- there was never any question in my mind of that. I didn't know how long they had been intimate; whether it had been going on for years, or whether it was a one- time occurrence. I didn't know- and I didn't care. It's easy to see, plain as daylight, that the person Scully cares for the most is -was- Mulder. The Lone Gunmen have told me that it was the same with him, too. Even as an outsider, you could see that these two lived solely for each other. And then, suddenly, it was just Scully, just one, just half of a whole. Truth be told, were it me, I don't think that I would have survived.
I kept watching her.
I watched her, about a month before her son was born. I watched as SHE watched a man come back to life after being dead; watched her question her beliefs; watched her hope again. I saw her, frantic, as she exhumed Mulder, setting herself up for failure, not even daring to consider that her theory wouldn't work. And then, I watched as Mulder came back, against all odds. I had never thought that possible, and I still can't quite grasp it. I think it may have been a miracle, a blessing solely for Scully, because god knows that after all of this, she deserves it.
I watched her...and him -the both of them, now- as they tried to readjust, get their lives back to normal. I watched, during the little time they had left before the birth, as it slowly dawned on Mulder that he was going to be a father, that he and Scully had created a miracle. It was incredible, like watching a little child discover Santa Claus. I watched Scully come back to life, in the same way that Mulder had -in his case, it was literally, but hers was no less real- and smile again, laugh again. She was friendlier with John, friendlier with me -not that she'd ever been discourteous. It seemed that she was friendlier with the whole world in general. She would whistle to herself sometimes when she thought no one was listening -Dana Scully, whistling!- and it was all I could do to keep from laughing, because I knew that she was thinking only of Mulder, of getting home to him. She was like a newlywed, only a thousand times more innocent. I knew she was worried about the impending birth, but for those couple of weeks, it was as if she had put her worries aside and was content.
When her son was born, I watched her. I watched her terror as the hybrids -those silent, faceless, beings- came in, and felt complete helplessness as I realized that there was nothing I could do. I heard, rather than watched, her scream -in pain, in terror- and I felt my heart break as guilt overwhelmed me. Guilt that I couldn't do more to help this woman. I have to admit, I was scared shitless at that point. I watched her confusion and her sigh- or in this case, sob- of relief as the hybrids turned, silent and solemn as ever, and left. And then, I watched the most beautiful thing- I watched her face light up, a smile crease her tired, tearstained eyes, as a voice outside screamed frantically for her. And I understood. Mulder. I hurried outside, and saw her relief mirrored in Mulder's face when he saw me, when he saw her. Then, for the first time in quite a while, I didn't watch. Mulder rushed past me into the room, and I stayed out on the porch, knowing that they needed time together, time alone. Knowing that, even with Scully's need for immediate care, everything would be all right now. They were together.
Two days later, I watched Scully fall apart again, only this time, it was a thousand times worse. This time, Mulder hadn't been taken away, abducted, kidnapped- he had left. This time his leaving had been voluntary. John said that Scully had made him leave, had asked him to for his own safety, but still... One way or another, whether it was his choice or hers, Mulder's leaving had been a voluntary decision. You could see the weight of that in Scully's eyes, the sorrow that she carried. It had been an unavoidable decision, because she loved Mulder -that was indubitable, no longer a question in anyone's mind- but it had been a decision nonetheless. Once again, I watched her, knowing that she was carrying on only for her son.
I'm still watching.