TITLE: She Is
AUTHOR: Abra Elliott
CLASSIFICATION: MSR; Johndoggett POV
SPOILERS: the whole series?  Nothing upcoming in the US.
DESCRIPTION: Doggett finds more than fish food in Mulder's 
desk drawer...
RATING: PG-13
DISCLAIMER: Still poor, not mine
FEEDBACK: Accepted with humble gratitude at 
xilerui@hotmail.com (forgive me if I'm a little late 
responding!)
NOTES: My apologies to the Johndoggett-haters of Philedom; I 
don't dislike the character, actually, so I haven't got the 
heart to abuse him.  I thought I'd put him to use in the 
service of a simple little shippy MSR, instead.  It's a 
little saccharine even for me, but I felt like it this 
evening.  If you like it, let me know; feedback and 
recommendations make my otherwise dull days!

***

Fish food and car rental receipts weren't the only things I 
uncovered in Agent Mulder's desk drawer; I wonder if Agent 
Scully is aware that he kept a journal?  I don't think so. 
She didn't seem to be looking for it the morning I found her 
in his bed.

As the task force leader heading up the search for our 
missing agent, I was practically required by law to read it; 
however, keeping it under wraps all these months is another 
story.  I guess I could be reprimanded, maybe even suspended, 
if I were discovered to be hiding evidence pertinent to an 
official FBI investigation.  But I'm beginning to think that 
there are some things in this world that were never meant to 
be "evidence."

The journal is a thick, aging book with entries dating back 
to Agent Mulder's discovery of the X-Files.  He seems to have 
used it, in the beginning, anyway, as a way of working 
through cases and profiles: long-winded notes to himself, 
diagrams, random ideas scrawled in his strange handwriting.  
He even mentions Agent Scully's assignment to the X-Files in 
a cryptic manner:

"New partner assigned: Agent Dana Katherine Scully.  Medical 
doctor.  Bright, small, naive.  Trying to act tough; worried 
about her career?  Me?  Could be a spy; who sent her?"

He seems to have disowned this fear fairly quickly: within a 
year, his references to his partner have evolved completely.  
Now they begin with "Scully says..." or "Scully thinks..," 
evidence of an obviously growing trust in her.  I wonder if 
she knows just how much he valued her opinion; whatever tone 
he may have taken with her during their cases, his private 
thoughts suggest that her doubts and skepticisms were the 
acid test of his theories.

***

Up to this point, although the entries are characteristically 
sporadic, they're still as verbose as ever.  Reading the 
journal gives as much, if not more, background on some of the 
X-Files cases than what's available in Agent Mulder's files 
at work, and I begin to see the strange workings of his mind.  
I feel a little like Salieri to Agent Mulder's Mozart; I see 
the beauty of his solved cases, but I just can't understand 
how he managed to arrive at his conclusions.  I can't 
comprehend his logic.  

Neither, apparently, could Agent Scully: "Scully disagrees" 
is a fairly common refrain.

Somewhere along the way, though, the tone of Agent Mulder's 
references to Agent Scully changes.  It only takes one 
sentence, and even I feel the weight of his words:

"She is missing."

No indication of who "she" is, but it's clear.  From this 
point on, "Scully" disappears from the journal for good, 
replaced by the only "she" that seems to have mattered to 
Agent Mulder; there aren't any others.  She doesn't "think" 
or "say" as much as she simply "is."

"She's back, and she's alive."
"She's sick; cancer."
"She's dying."

These entries are few and far between, sometimes punctuated 
by dried, round blotches blurring the ink.  I knew that Agent 
Scully had had cancer; I had no idea the toll it took on her 
partner.  His former verbosity is gone, replaced with a tense 
terseness.  His usual sprawling handwriting gradually 
collapses in on itself, growing smaller and tighter as his 
partner grows sicker.

Months pass with no entries.  If he was working on cases, he 
kept them locked inside his head; there's no evidence of them 
here.  When he begins writing again, it's to record this one 
piece of information:

"She's in remission.  She's going to live."

***

With this, the cases all but vanish.  The journal is handed 
over to Agent Mulder's private life, and it's because of this 
that I've hid it even from his partner.  I can't let her read 
his thoughts while there's still a chance that we'll find him 
alive.  

He doesn't wax lyrical or indulge in tortured angst; instead, 
what he does is make lists.  Dozens of lists, all revolving 
around his partner.  Possible birthday gifts (including, if I 
read his handwriting correctly, "baseball?"  Was he planning 
to give her a ball?  Is she a fan?).  What she wore to work 
(black high-heels; black jackets; black bras...I'm not sure 
I'll ever look at her the same way again).  Things she says, 
excuses she makes, looks she gives him, things she 
eats...like he's taking snapshots of Agent Scully without the 
aid of a camera.  Capturing her; keeping her.

***

The journal peters out somewhere within the last year before 
his disappearance.  There's no mention of his illness, no 
mention of his trips to North Carolina; another reason not to 
hand it over as evidence.  It wouldn't help us anyway.

But one thing has made me doubt my decision not to show it to 
Agent Scully.  The last entry before his disappearance is 
also a list, but it's typically cryptic, and I'm not entirely 
sure what it means.  I have a theory; but, if I'm right, I 
don't know if it would be kinder to show it to Agent Scully 
or to continue keeping it from her:

"On our bench
At the office
At the batting range
In the rain
Sitting on my couch
In the desert outside Roswell (how?)
In an autopsy bay (she'd kill me)
In her bed?"

Below the list is a reminder to himself, scribbled in excited, 
looping lines:

"Pick up, Thurs. June 5 noon.  Tiffany's"

I'm hoping we find him before I make up my mind.


~finis~


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