Comments, complaints and just plain talk to sheryl_martin@tvo.org
Rating: G, Vignette...Summary: Mrs. Scully ponders her future and her daughter's.Spoilers: Memento Mori, natch... as if that's a surprise at this point...
A Mother's Taleby Sheryl Martin
She sat quietly on the couch; methodically lifting the cup of coffee to her mouth as the news droned on from the television set. One part of her mind noted that Spring was almost here with the local festivities being advertised on the screen. Easter bunnies and Good Friday Mass. The other part whirred away in the darkness.
She had given birth to two daughters.
Now she had only one.
And soon she could have none.
Closing her eyes, she took another sip of cold coffee and remembered her two little girls as they scampered around the house; always fighting with the boys. Always fighting. And sometimes they won; sometimes they lost.
Melissa has been the peacemaker at times - negotiating when she could. And withdrawing into her books when she couldn't.
Dana had been a tomboy from the start - even when she couldn't keep up with her brothers. Then she'd go to her father and still win in the end.
Now one was dead.
And the other one had to fight.
She had stood on the pier years ago; watching her man sail off to the Cuban blockade. The jagged edges of fear that ripped at her insides as she watched the ship fade from sight hadn't fully disappeared when he had returned to marry her. Not when he had kept going out again and again at his country's call; promising to do his best to return to her.
It has only really begun to wane when he had retired, the constant fear of a strange knock at the door; of seeing a chaplain there to tell her the darkest of news a wife can receive.
Then her youngest daughter had come home one day, flushed and proud because she had been accepted by the FBI. And the pain reached up into her heart again. Bill had tried to help in his own way; tried to calm her fears by pointing out that most doctors didn't get into field work and definitely not into dangerous situations. He hadn't been happy at all; but at least he didn't have to worry about his little girl being shot at.
He had been wrong.
She didn't know much of what Dana did; couldn't know. Security oaths weren't new to her. But with every visit she could see the strain and the tension in her daughter's speech and movement. And when Dana had shown up to cry over the supposedly loss of Fox Mulder, part of her had ached to just tell her to quit; to resign. To give it all up before it was too late.
It had been, of course. But she didn't know about the death planned for her daughter until it had already happened.
To her other daughter.
In the hospital, during those first frantic moments when she thought it was Dana in the trauma room and dying, the rage ripped around her like a newly-opened scar. And when she found it was Melissa instead of Dana, her heart broke.
She had always been the cautious one; the safe one. Dana had been the risk taker; the daredevil.
Sometimes she thought it wasn't fair; and then just as quickly hated herself for daring to think such a thing.
And standing there at the grave; a few places from where her husband lay, she prayed that she wouldn't live to bury another child. Because it just wasn't right for a mother to bury her children.
Then the phone call came.
Mulder, soft and scared and sad and uncomfortable that once again he was the bearer of bad news. Fox, the closest thing she might get to a son-in-law. Fox Mulder, who had almost cried when he told her because he was so afraid; hiding it as best he could.
She had been furious.
Mad at Dana for know telling her sooner; mad at Fox for his part in this because she knew instinctively that this had something to do with their work; and at herself for being so mad when she had to be strong again.
On the drive to the hospital she had tried to put the walls back up; smooth the waves crashing over her heart as the familiar pain shot through her veins. She couldn't do this again. It was too much. But she knew she would; because it's what you take on when you become a mother.
The doctor had been talking about the treatment when she had walked into the white cold hospital room; her daughter lying in bed. Calm and cool; much like her father. Fox had been nowhere in sight.
After she had calmed down, she tried to talk to her baby; her only daughter. But the anger still nipped at the ends of her sentences.
"Dana..."
"I'll be fine, Mom." A toss of that red hair; a smile. "I know I can beat this." The sunken eyes so full of life; of faith in herself and of the medical system.
And then she was home again and no word of any treatments. She hadn't asked why the sudden change; didn't want to ask. But Dana seemed to somehow thrive on the work, and if that's what made her feel better; then so be it.
Didn't mean that she didn't worry. Didn't mean that she didn't feel the cold tentacles wrapped around her heart contract every time she saw her little girl a bit paler and a bit weaker. With every visit her heart tightened and she wondered where the strength came from for them both to keep on going like nothing was wrong; like nothing was happening to them.
She just wanted to wrap her arms around her daughter and take her away from all this; from the Bureau and Mulder and Skinner and the X Files.
But that would kill her sooner than that dammed tumour in her head. And she knew that the work was as much a part of her as the sea had been for her husband; why they never really left the sea behind.
Like a fish out of water.
So she let Dana swim where she wanted; biting back the worry and the tears and the nightmares. She watched Mulder try to baby her daughter; and watched Dana lash out at her partner. And she remembered the late-night arguments with Bill over his work and his travelling and how after it all he would tell her that he loved her but it was what he did.
And this was what she did.
Even if it killed her in the end.
Because a fish will die if out of water and a fish in a small bowl will die of boredom before old age. But a fish in the ocean won't live as long because of the predators out there.
But it was alive. And as long there was life, there was hope.
The cup was empty. Getting to her feet, she refilled it and sat back down in front of the television and watched the newest comedy show scroll across her vision.
She still had one daughter.
God willing, she'd have one for the rest of her life.
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