Dana Scully's Diary Part 3/?
By Piper Sargasso
(Disclaimers, etc. in Part 1)
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Valentine's Day of Dooooom
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~ Friday 14 February
Wonderful holiday, Valentine's Day. Is time of love and cherubs, roses and proclamations of affection. Wonder what I'll get in the mail today -- or better still, delivered to office! Will have to pass gifts off as from someone else other than Tom, of course. But will be thrilled to see partner eat crow, especially since was so smug the other day about me not having a date.
Damn! Am late. Can't find pantyhose anywhere, even though must have at least ten pairs. Where have they all gone? Where?
(9:48 AM)
Okay, am at work following jaunt through severe rush-hour traffic and mad dash through Hoover building. Have not had time to buy new pair of pantyhose.
Interesting, the way Mulder's gaze has been wandering to my bare legs. Evil thought: what if I flash him a bit of skin? Could be more fun than seducing Krycek, at any rate. Must try it out -- in the interest of comparison, of course -- purely for scientific purposes. And…
There! Have done it. Classic leg-cross maneuver. Partner's eyes have indeed popped out of their sockets before quickly returning to file. Cheeks flushed. My, my, my, but this is fun! Must file reaction away for future reference.
Now will settle into paperwork to pass time until Valentine's gifts arrive. Will mentally practice looking surprised!
(11:13 AM)
Nothing yet.
(11:25 AM)
Still nothing.
(11:33 AM)
Nope.
(11:57 AM)
Oh God. What if nothing comes? Will be just like last four Valentine's Days at office, with nothing to show anyone cares. Am loser. Loser!
(12:01 PM)
Bet Mulder will get something, though. Disgusted with how much stock have put into meaningless bits of paper and water-starved, wilting flowers from corner grocer. Still, it hurts to be the only one in the universe not receiving them. Damn Mulder and his secretarial pool groupies.
(12:45 PM)
Went to drugstore for pantyhose and white chocolate truffles on lunch break. Wonder -- is white chocolate less fattening than dark? Certainly seems like should be -- lighter color gives appearance of innocence. How could anything that innocuous-looking be fattening? Anyway, have eaten entire bag.
(1:02 PM)
Still no gift, but found one of those conversational heart candies on top of paperwork saying, "Be Mine."
Had to smile. Mulder gets so silly this time of year. Wonder if it's his way of dealing with inevitable feelings of rejection whole holiday inspires. But no, Mulder has his groupies. Whatever. Will get back to work.
(1:05)
Hmm… Found another heart candy in desk drawer while searching for my cherry-flavored chap stick. This one says, "I'm yours."
Shot Mulder amused stare and returned to paperwork. The man really must get a hobby other than playing with me.
Although…
No! Will not think about Mulder in this fashion. Is work partner and friend, not to mention promise at start of year not to -- Oh, for crying. Out. LOUD!
(1:09 PM)
Was Skinner, asking about Le Croix case closed two months ago.
"Agent Scully, I'd like you to clear something up for me."
"Yes, Sir?"
A pause.
"It says here in your report that Justice Le Croix was dead."
"Yes, Sir." Oh God. Here it comes. Knew we got out of it too easy.
Slowly, "That he'd been dead for over three months."
Felt my cheeks flush. "Yes, Sir. That's correct."
Another pause.
"And that even though he was dead, he was somehow able to attack a couple camping at the lake, then evade you and Agent Mulder by running off into the woods."
Silence.
Pressure. Too. Much. "Yes! Yes! He was a friggin' zombie, okay?!?"
…Well, maybe not.
Took safer route, route guaranteed to not lose me my job. I told him there wasn't sufficient evidence to determine whether or not it even was Justice Le Croix who attacked that night. Never mind that, in fact, there was no doubt in my mind, especially after having spent a lovely afternoon slicing and dicing Mr. Le Croix myself just hours before having to fight him off of my partner. Skinner seemed satisfied with my answer and wished me a good afternoon.
Good afternoon indeed. Where the hell are my flowers???
(1:33 PM)
What the--? Great. Have broken computer. Work has disappeared, leaving nothing but red screen. Now will have to bear sly snipes at my intelligence from geniuses in tech support.
(1:35 PM)
Message appearing across screen now:
"Drink to me only with thine eyes,
And I will pledge with mine;
Leave a kiss but in the cup,
And I'll not look for wine…"
Tinny Celine Dion music pipes over computer's sad speaker system to lend a hand to sappy romantics of rest of poem. Sadly, has also drawn partner's attention, who is reading the words as they appear and not bothering to hide amusement.
"Someone has a crush on you," he taunts in annoying, singsong voice. Am too flabbergasted to respond. Who would be sending this to me? Couldn't be Tom, could it?
(1:50 PM)
Hmm… Found more candy hearts upon returning from rest room, these surrounding my coffee cup to form a request:
'Kiss me. One kiss. Say you will.'
Shot Mulder a look, who pretended not to notice. V. strange man. Must be careful -- seems to have latent Frohikian tendencies.
(2:04 PM)
Still no flowers, but another poem has appeared on my screen, this one accompanied by Sarah Maclachlan song about surrendering or something like that:
"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?"
Oh, brother. Not that Shakespeare isn't lovely, but I hate to think my admirer is so unoriginal as to use two of the most commonly used poems to declare his undying affection. And his choice in music leaves a lot to be desired.
Mulder is once again reading my screen, but this time has glasses on so as to read from the distance between his desk and mine. He is also quoting the sonnet as the words come up in a most dramatic fashion, even clutching his chest as though in the throes of agonizing love. I can't help but laugh heartily at his antics, and he stops to give me a huge grin.
God, he's beautiful when his smiles like that. Mulder in glasses…yum.
(2:12 PM)
Another poem. No music this time:
So well I love thee, as without thee I
Love nothing; if I might choose, I'd rather die
Than be one day debarr'd thy company
Since breasts, and plants do grow, and live and move,
Breasts are those men, that such a life approve:
He only lives, that deadly is in love.
The corn in the ground is sown first dies
And of one seed, so many ears arise:
Love, this world's corn, by dying multiplies.
The seeds of love first but thy eyes were thrown
Into a ground untill'd, a heart unknown
To bear such fruit, till by thy hands 'twas sown.
Look as your looking-glass by chance may fall,
Divide and break in many pieces small
And yet shows forth the selfsame face in all:
Proportions, features, graces just the same,
And in the smallest piece as well as the name
Of the fairest one deserves, as in the richest frame.
So all my thoughts are pieces but of you
Which put together makes a glass so true
As I therein no other's face but your can view.
Lovely poem, am flushed all over. Can see Mulder watching me out of corner of my eye, but this time he doesn't comment. Must go get a drink of water.
(2:24 PM)
Saw Tom in the cafeteria. We didn't speak much; he seemed to be in quite a rush. "See you at seven-thirty, Dana" was the pinnacle of our conversation.
(2:31)
Have given up on office delivery of flowers, candy, etc. Was foolish to think would get anything anyway, as am not in relationship and am cloistered away in dreary basement office. Who would be interested in pale, alien goo-covered woman smelling of Le Corpse parfum? Am social reject. Want to die.
Ooh! Phone ringing…
Oh God, was Frohike. Accidentally hit speakerphone button when answering.
"Hey there, sexy lady."
Shit! Speakerphone button jammed down into phone -- can't get it out!
"Have you enjoyed the poetry?"
Damn! Was Frohike all along. Fiddling with button, reply coolly, "It was very nice, Frohike. Thank you."
"Hey, anything for my lovely doc-teur," he drawls on. "I have another one for you, my sweet. I wrote it myself…"
Oh God!
"Of course, feelings of this magnitude cannot be cheapened by typing them on a crusty keyboard. It should be memorized and passed down from generation to generation, like the orators of ancient civilizations. We'll tell our children, and they'll tell their children…"
Oh my GOD!!! Someone, please make him stop. Am now frantic to dislodge the stuck button, but is no use; Mulder is shaking from force of his repressed laughter and Frohike is going on.
Sound of throat clearing.
"When at first I saw you, my heart was full of joy,
I then knew at that moment, you should be my toy.
You fill my days with sunlight, and fill my nights with sorrow,
I wonder if the day you come to me might be tomorrow."
Mulder's shaking frighteningly seizure-like. Eyes are watering, face reddening. Meanwhile, have shoved pencil into phone in attempt to coax button out, but to no avail. Have succeeded in pushing damn thing further in.
"I see you everywhere, where I've put up my gadgets,
I'll die without you, baby, my body covered in maggots.
How can you be so cruel, my love? How can you be so mean?
To keep your love for others, makes me completely green."
Mulder positively purple from strain, tears streaming down face. Am trying various office supplies to extricate friggin' button, but to no avail. Frohike, oblivious to my horror, goes on:
"Oh, will you ever be mine? Oh, could it ever be?
Could you ever love a man, who is as short as me?
We'd be a perfect fit, dear. We'd match so perfectly,
I can see it all real clear, when will you ever see?"
Mulder lets out whoop of laughter, then shoves fist into mouth to stopper further outbursts.
I've given up. Resigned to my fate, I drop into my chair and wait rest of horrendous poem out.
"And so I pine in misery, waiting for your love,
You're such a beautiful creature, like the winging of a dove.
The angels are not half so fine, and they are not so true,
If it isn't plain by now, I'll say it: I love you."
Silence. Realize polite thing to do is respond to his lyrical stylings, but am too horrified to speak. Mulder, now blue with effort to bite back laughter, looks at me with pleading eyes to end call.
"Er, that was very nice, Frohike."
"Please, Dana. I think we should be on a first name basis now, don't you?"
Another yelp of glee from partner. Will kill him once this is over.
"It is a lovely poem," I force out, "But we're just friends, Frohike. You realize that, don't you?"
Outraged gasp. "What are you trying to say?"
Shit. Knew this day would come, but didn't think it would feel so awful letting the little man down. Am horrible, horrible person.
"Are you giving me the 'let's just be friends' speech? 'Cause I don't need this, baby. It's time you made a decision."
Another yelp from across the room. Shot Mulder death-glare.
"Frohike," I begin slowly, like talking to insane person brandishing weapon, "Don't you think friendship is important? I for one value our friendship."
Silence, then, "You know what? You're a tease, Agent Scully. You should be ashamed of yourself. See ya around, baby. And don't bother calling, begging for me to come back. You don't know what you just lost!"
With that, he slams down phone. Mulder howling with laughter.
I just want this day to be over.
(3:00 PM)
Oh no. New poem, this one to the tune of that death-march song. Is Annabel Lee -- morbid poem, that. Frohike must hate me now. Not that I don't deserve it. Should never have played around with him.
But then, have always made it clear was never interested in more than just being friends. Is this really my fault? Hmm… Well, feel terrible about whole mess, regardless.
(3:07 PM)
Another one, accompanied by that "Oooh, Barracuda" song:
"April is in my mistress' face,
And July in her eyes hath place,
Within her bosom is September,
But in her heart a cold December."
Ouch. Okay, maybe I do deserve that. Hell, they don't call me the Ice Queen for nothing, right?
"What did he send this time?" Mulder asked.
Showed him my screen, at which he frowned. "I'm going to give him a call. I know he's hurt, but this," he gestured at the monitor, "needs to stop before he breaks out the dirty limericks."
Ah, Mulder. Can always count on him, anyway.
(4:02 PM)
Oh, praise be to God in the highest, I'm finally out of here! Have knocked off an hour early to get ready for date tonight. Mulder joked about me having a hot date. Funny, looked a little put-off when responded smugly that yes, I did have a date thank you very much. Suppose I should feel bad about snooty response, as possible he looked put-off because he was going it alone tonight, but find it hard to sympathize with his lack of a date tonight, especially since was so haughty about me spending Valentine's Day alone.
Wait a minute -- maybe he does have a date tonight. Humph. Whatever.
Found another set of candy hearts lining dashboard as soon as I got into car.
"I love you. Only you. Always and forever."
And then more, lining the gearshift.
"I'm yours. Only yours. Marry me. Say you will."
Grabbed cell phone.
"Mulder."
"You need professional help, you know that?" I informed him.
He just laughed. Amazing, the way men can crack themselves up. Must be nice, needing only oneself to stay amused.
(5:45 PM)
Okay, have plenty of time to get ready. Have already taken long soak in bath, shaved legs (just in case). Of course, once stepped out of bath was chilled and could actually feel hair on legs prickling up. Had to hop back in bath before water drained and shave again.
Allowing hair to air dry with styling gel finger-combed in. Should give appearance of fresh out of bed, tousled look with minimal effort. At least, that's what Cosmo says. Hope it turns out well as have never tried this before.
Will have glass of wine to calm nerves.
(6:14 PM)
Bought frosty-looking makeup that's all the rage with young women the world over. Consulting Cosmopolitan once again, made sure to get the proper colors for redheads. Have headband pushing hair out of way and am ready to apply. Am excited to see how it all turns out!
Hmm… Plenty of time yet. Will settle in to watch a little TV. Should help this wine to soothe my nervousness.
(6:50 PM)
Oh shit!
(7:10 PM)
Oh God. God! Why does this sort of thing always happen to me? Am I doomed to social failure? That's it. Am doomed. Doooomed!
Trendy makeup makes me look like frosted corpse. Am pale enough as it is -- now just pale in a shimmery sort of way. Why do they sell such things? Why? They only look good on models, who have team of professionals to apply and magazine experts to airbrush pictures. I have neither, and am in thirties wearing colors that most teenagers would look silly in. Makeup is ridiculous, will go back to my tried-and-true at once. Right after I get another glass of wine.
(7:26 PM)
Oh God. Am beauty disaster. Have successfully applied own regular makeup, which looks fantastic. But once took headband off, realized with immeasurable horror that gelled hair has dried into strange, wing-like flips around face where headband had pushed it down. Look like 80's revisited, only slightly less attractive. What's worse -- has not only dried into peculiar, Flock of Seagulls-style flip, but has dried into greasy-looking clumps where gel has lumped together in streaks. Is conspiracy, I swear it. And Tom will be here in less than five minutes.
Oh God, please let him be late like any other male in the universe. Oh shit! Someone's at the door.
(7:41 PM)
Appears God is unavailable for requests tonight as Tom is now seated in my living room, waiting for me to finish. Have gathered hair into hasty ponytail to answer door so unfortunate hairdo will be well hidden.
Sadly, unfortunate hairdo preferable to this, sticky hair tangled in elastic band with no alternative than to cut it out. Where are the scissors?
(7:45 PM)
Want to cry. Cannot believe this, have cut out chunk of hair. Not only that, but hair standing on end everywhere -- there's no hope for it. Am sneaking into bedroom to call Missy.
(7:59 PM)
Okay, have managed, on Missy's advice, to secure crunchy hair into low chignon. Is quick fix and will have unbelievable time with tangles later, I'm sure. But at least top is brushed smooth and rest is pulled together. Am heading out door now just as soon as I get shoes on.
Wait a minute… where the hell are my shoes?!?
~ TBC ~
A/N: I'm really sorry about the delay. I had intended this to be updated weekly at least, but due to Christmas and some personal problems which some of you already know about, my writing time has been severely cut back. Thanks for your patience!
Now, about those poems. Titles and authors here:
1) "Drink to me only with thine eyes…"
"To Celia" by Ben Jonson
2) "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?"
Sonnet 18 by William Shakespeare.
3) "So well I love thee, as without thee I love nothing…"
"So Well I Love Thee" by Michael Drayton.
4) "When at first I saw you, my heart was full of joy…"
Frohike's poem, by Frohike.
5) "Annabel Lee" by Edgar Allan Poe. (My all-time favorite)
6) "April is in my mistress' face…"
"April is in My Mistress' Face" (author unknown)
BTW, I happen to like Sarah Maclachlan myself (and Celine's okay).
Thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far! It makes my day, really. I'm so happy you're enjoying this as much as I enjoy writing it!