She came back from the dead. She deserves a kiss. One kiss. I know she wants me to. I can see it, in her eyes. Back there, in the car, before she was killed, I know she wanted me to. And while she lay gasping for her life, I wished I had. Made her last moments happy ones. Made them fulfilled.
Made her feel loved.
It would be easy to kiss Monica. She's beautiful. She loves me. I could love her. She understands me, supports me. I know she needs me. It would be a good thing I did, if I tried to love Monica. I promised I would. While she lay dying, I promised whoever or whatever's up there, that if he brought back my friend, I would try to give her what she so desperately wants from me. My love. Not my friendship, or respect, or admiration. She already has all those. My love.
And if this had happened two years ago, I'd've done it. Leaned in, given in, and kissed her, and settled down for a quiet life with a woman who wants only to love me.
But not now.
Not now I know Dana.
It's not Monica I dream about at night. I imagine red hair slipping through my fingers, not black. It's Dana I lean forward and kiss, so gently, like she's made of porcelain, when I sleep at night. It's Dana Scully I look for, Dana Scully I need, Dana Scully my world revolves around.
And when I wake up, I tell myself this is stupid, I'm in love with a woman who loves someone else. She loves a man who knew her for seven years and still doesn't call her Dana. She loves a man who opened her eyes to dangerous and amazing new possibilities, then left her to face them alone. She loves a man that left her and her baby to look after themselves. She's utterly loyal to a man that's not even here any more, loving only her selective, forgiving memory of him.
But like Monica said, I'm loyal. I'm faithful, even if its only to a woman who may never love me. But I will stay by her side, and love and protect her as long as she needs me.
And Monica knows. Monica loves Dana too, in her way. And if I were ever to kiss Monica, make love to Monica, in my mind, I'd be unfaithful to Dana...screwed up, I know, but that's how my head works.
So I won't be kissing Monica. Not tonight. Not ever.
Made her feel loved.
It would be easy to kiss Monica. She's beautiful. She loves me. I could love her. She understands me, supports me. I know she needs me. It would be a good thing I did, if I tried to love Monica. I promised I would. While she lay dying, I promised whoever or whatever's up there, that if he brought back my friend, I would try to give her what she so desperately wants from me. My love. Not my friendship, or respect, or admiration. She already has all those. My love.
And if this had happened two years ago, I'd've done it. Leaned in, given in, and kissed her, and settled down for a quiet life with a woman who wants only to love me.
But not now.
Not now I know Dana.
It's not Monica I dream about at night. I imagine red hair slipping through my fingers, not black. It's Dana I lean forward and kiss, so gently, like she's made of porcelain, when I sleep at night. It's Dana Scully I look for, Dana Scully I need, Dana Scully my world revolves around.
And when I wake up, I tell myself this is stupid, I'm in love with a woman who loves someone else. She loves a man who knew her for seven years and still doesn't call her Dana. She loves a man who opened her eyes to dangerous and amazing new possibilities, then left her to face them alone. She loves a man that left her and her baby to look after themselves. She's utterly loyal to a man that's not even here any more, loving only her selective, forgiving memory of him.
But like Monica said, I'm loyal. I'm faithful, even if its only to a woman who may never love me. But I will stay by her side, and love and protect her as long as she needs me.
And Monica knows. Monica loves Dana too, in her way. And if I were ever to kiss Monica, make love to Monica, in my mind, I'd be unfaithful to Dana...screwed up, I know, but that's how my head works.
So I won't be kissing Monica. Not tonight. Not ever.