Sara B. 2004
She was so still. I’ve
been posting vigil at her bedside, watching her.
She’s been so still.
I remember that first day
when she walked into my office. Her hair was darker then, a mousy brown. I once asked her about it; her answer didn’t surprise me. ‘Whenever I walked into a room, two things happened. The
men looked at the hair and this stupid birthmark.’ She pointed to the mole
above her lip. ‘Then it was thank you for coming Miss Scully but we don’t
think...’ she paused shaking her head. ‘You fill in the rest. They dismissed me. It didn’t take
me long to figure out that I needed to tone it down.’ She toned it down
all right. When she walked into the room that first time, I took one look at
her and decided her ‘Ice Queen’ nickname suited her. It didn’t
take long to find out just how wrong I was. Spitfire, Stormy or Hurricane maybe
but Ice Queen was wrong for so many reasons.
She’s so still, not
even a twitch.
She’s changed a lot
since then, not just externally. Gone were the boxy jackets, her hair was ‘closer’
to her real color and the style was sleek. The real changes are the ones you
can’t see. Her beliefs have evolved and her soul carries the deepest scars. She is still a staunch skeptic but she is strong enough to admit that she now knows
of things that shouldn’t exist. She grew up in a home where duty and trust
in the government were only behind the belief in God. She still believes in duty
but to whom that duty is for has greatly shifted.
She has yet to move.
This woman in the bed is
a distant cousin to the woman I met so many years ago. Or so I thought. They really are the same person it just took me a long time to see beyond the facade,
to discover the treasure inside. Yet I look back on that other woman with fondness. If ‘this’ Dana Scully had walked into my office then I would have missed
out on the fun of unwrapping the many layers. I also couldn’t have been
able to keep my hands off her.
She remains unmoving. “Please
move Scully.” I implore quietly.
Her quiet sleepy voice breaks
the silence, “dammit Mulder if you want me to move, get that body of yours over here and move me.” A full Scully smile graces her lovely face.
I know my face mirrors hers. “My pleasure Scully,” and
I climb into bed with her.
“Mine too, Mulder,