AUTHOR'S NOTE: Yeah, yeah, I know I'm supposed to be working 
on "Water's Edge".  But this one just wouldn't go away...

DISCLAIMER JAZZ:  "The X-Files" and its characters are the 
creations and property of the fabled Chris Carter, Ten 
Thirteen Productions and Fox Broadcasting.  I am, of course, 
using them without permission.  No copyright infringement is 
intended.  All other concepts or ideas herein are mine.

SUMMARY: Doggett watches Scully.
TITLE: Watching From the Walls
AUTHOR: Elizabeth Rowandale <bstrbabs@gmail.com>
RATING: (G)
CLASSIFICATIONS: (VA)
KEYWORDS: Doggett POV, M/S UST
SPOILERS: Through US 8 (already aired)
ARCHIVE: Yes, Please, Everywhere!:) Just tell me, please. 

WATCHING FROM THE WALLS
by
Elizabeth Rowandale <bstrbabs@gmail.com>
Copyright (c) 2001


I wish I had met her when he did.

If I had, I might not be excess baggage.  I don't have 
Agent Mulder's fancy psych degree, I can't rattle off the 
requisite mumbo-jumbo.  But I have spent a lot of time with 
people--from all walks of life.  I know a little something 
about watching and learning.  And in the short time we have 
been together, I have watched Dana Scully.

When she first ventured down to this basement office those 
many years ago, her walls must not have been so thick, the 
distance between her and each new person who shook her hand 
must not have been so great.  She must have been more open 
then, must have cared what people thought of her.  That's 
the door in with anyone.  If she doesn't care what I think 
of her, she doesn't care if I come or go.

But her circle has dispersed.  She has no one left to 
impress.  She's found her place.  She's won the respect of 
those she has chosen to revere in her life.  And now...no 
one else is relevant.

I am late to the party.  I wish I had met her when he did.

She has warmed to me.  She is kind and fair.  I feel she 
approves of me.  I enjoy her company.  And in unguarded 
moments, she has given me glimpses of a woman I respect, a 
woman capable of great love and great kindness--a woman of 
overwhelming strength.  But those insightful moments were 
not offered to me; I happened to be in the path.

I wish I had met her when he did.

I haven't felt this way since high school.  I arrive at 
work each day, wanting her approval.  I want her to like 
me.  *Her* opinion of *me* does matter.  Apparently, I am 
still somewhere she used to be.  I thought I had left there 
myself.  I have the career I want.  Once upon a time I had 
a family.  I have been loved.  I have found my place.  I 
shouldn't care what Agent Scully thinks of me.

Yet on the rare days when she throws me a smile, or a 
tease--or acknowledges something I've done well, 
acknowledges I might be someone relevant in her life--I 
light up like a kid on Christmas morning.  An hour later, 
she's looking through me again.  Squashed like a bug.  
Ridiculous for me.

I wish I had met her when he did.  When she was still a kid 
not so far out of school.  When she hadn't dealt with the 
loss of her father, her sister, her health, her child.  
Mulder was beside her through all of this.  He has seen 
things I will never see.  He has seen her asleep on a 
stakeout.  I've heard through the grapevine that she slept 
on his shoulder sometimes.  That she has been caught 
sleeping against his arm on plane rides back from the 
field.

I don't doubt that I saw her cry far sooner than he.  But 
this was nothing more than time and place and a nod to her 
belief that I am a decent guy.  Again, she doesn't care 
what I think of her.  I am convenient.  I am safe.  Mulder 
was..*is*...perhaps the *only* dangerous variable in her 
life.  His opinion is gold to her.  His words cut deep and 
soothe the infinite.

I find myself dreaming of Mulder's return--if only so I 
might see the two of them together.  Watching quietly, 
blending into the walls like the furniture I so often feel 
I am.  Because if he's there, I think perhaps I could see 
her.  That the mask would drop, and the woman I know lies 
beneath would be manifest before me...before *Mulder*.  I 
would be borrowing.

She has grown into a beautiful woman, this Dana Scully.  A 
woman with depth and experience and confidence and a 
vitality in life that comes only of knowing what you have 
to lose.

She is out of reach now, to everyone but him.

They have come many miles together.  Every day I see it 
more clearly.  Separate in their way, yes, but I can't help 
but feel she is having trouble breathing without him.  Some 
fundamental part of her is on hold.  Waiting.

Maybe Mulder is not all I am questing to bring back.

I wish I had met her when he did.

#

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