While watching season eight (particularly the ones with Annabeth Gish because she's awesome), I began to wonder exactly what Monica was thinking when Doggett called her in the middle of the night to bring her out to DC. And, because staring at the TV screen wasn't bringing me any answers, I decided to write it. And here it is: the inner melodramatic ramblings of Special Agent Monica Reyes.
Disclaimer: if you don't know it by now, there's really no hope for you.
"You're hurting for her, I know. Agent Scully."
That was what I said to the despairing man sitting on the bench before me. That was what I said to you.
What I thought was something entirely different. It wasn't so much words as a feeling, a mixture of red hot anger ad black despair that flooded my whole body, making it nearly impossible to force any words out, let alone the understated phrase that i had just uttered. It simply did not express what I was feeling-- what I had felt in the past 32 hours.
When you called me last night, I must confess that I had absolutely no idea what to say to you. I mean, here was a man from my past who had walked into my life and changed everything-- and we weren't even romantically involved! But you'd shaken up my world with your odd New York/Georgia accent and your piercing blue eyes-- eyes that i'd dreamed of for many months after we'd parted ways.
And last night, you did it again! But here's the worst part of it: hearing your wonderful, gravelly voice on the other end of the line made me do something that I don't normally waste my time with doing.
It made me hope.
This is something that peopl don't realize about me. They see my happy, slightly ditzy outward mask and they figure that being hopeful sort of goes along with the package. But giving the world an opportunity to crush my spirit by hoping that life will get better-- well, no one likes being hurt.
Last night I hoped. I hoped that when you saw me, you would realize how much you missed me (despite our relatively short acquaintance). I hoped that we could have something together-- just the two of us, John and Monica. I hoped like hell that you hadn't found someone else.
And the world crushed me when I saw that you were in love with your partner. Special Agent Dana Scully.
Special Tramp Dana Scully.
Do you know what hurt me the most, though? What hurt the most was realizing that you didn't see how much this Agent Scully of yours was in love with the missing man-- Fox Mulder. What hurt me the most was realizing that this piece of information would do nothing for me but force me to keep on hoping. And what hurt the most was realizing that I don't have the guts to say anything about it to you. That soon enough, I'll go back down to New Orleans, and you'll stay here, gazing after your uninterested partner with those bright blue eyes that I just know I'm going to start dreaming about again.
So as i watch you walk away from me, from your past, from all that I represent, I feel like collapsing onto the vacated bench and crying my eyes out. Just like the old days, eh?
But I don't. Because I've got a feeling about this-- about you and me and not the past, but the future. Maybe it won't happen today, but someday we'll be together.
And do you know what? It's enough to make me hope.
I told you it was melodramatic! Also, I wrote it in the middle of the night, so that might have contributed to it a bit. Please review! Pleeeeeeeeeeeeaase?