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Title: The Occasional Journals of Dana Scully, M.D., Part 1 of ?, as
transcribed from the Lost Tapes of the Exile Summary: Scully pauses to contemplate what lies ahead. Comments: I'm writing these as they pop into my head--nothing big, nothing formal, just snippets here and there from a busy life. Read the dates as I don't think I'm doing them in order. The character's in charge here, not me. Right now she wants this moment told. They're meant to be transcripts from a minirecorder journal, transcribed years after the fact. In this alternative world, M & S got chucked out of the FBI and set up freelance careers in Seattle. After several attempts they got Dale Cooper out of the Black Lodge (although he got chucked out of the FBI too) and he's been working with them to stop colonization. Joel Fleischman was M & S's neighbor and doctor. Until everything went to hell. Musical background: Mozart's Requiem, especially the Introitus (for those of you who've see the movie "Elizabeth", this is the music at the end when Elizabeth pronounces herself the Virgin Queen), the Kyrie and the Dies Irae. Feedback: Yes. I'm doing these as unblocking character/mood setting exercises for non-fanfic stuff (yes, it's pretty dark and bleak with invasion as a theme) I'm doing so let me know what you think! E-mail comments or comments here work. (tape starts here) December 21, 2001.
This year certainly has not been what I expected. What anyone expected, especially fans of Arthur C. Clarke. Yes, we encountered aliens. But, instead of offering us enlightenment, it's been a steady gaze into the depths of hell as they try to colonize Earth for their own kind. At least it hasn't been easy for them. The battles still rage. I dare hope the little work Fleischman, Capra and I have done will turn things in our favor. But is it enough? It's snowing outside. I hate snow. It reminds me too much of Antarctica, of our failures. We shouldn't have let Kersh, Skinner, Fowley and Spender distract us from the real issues. We should have ignored everyone else and dove right into battling for our future. Maybe we could have saved lives. I don't think we could have stopped the colonization, but we could have been better prepared. Snow also reminds me of why we're here, in this isolated hamlet that makes Cicely or Twin Peaks look like bustling metropolii. Caribou is so far out it might as well be on another planet, populated mostly by Inuit and Indians who for some strange reason count Fleischman as a friend. Ha! Although he *is* one of the more mellow New Yorkers I've ever met. From what Maggie has said, he wasn't that way before, at least not until he disappeared upriver to stay with the Indians after they broke up the first time. But he's a damned determined doctor and I wouldn't trade him for anyone else. It's been his doggedness more than anything else which kept me pushing for the vaccine. I'd sooner lose Capra than him. Hell, I remember the sick look on his face after Elizabeth was born, when he came to tell Mulder and me our miracle baby was dying. Capra's good, but he doesn't fight the inevitable like Fleischman will. He's the best doctor of the three of us--next to him I realize I'm a pathologist, not a *doctor*. Has it only been a year since we fled Seattle, Mulder damn near dead and me only slightly better? I don't think I can stand to look at another boat after that trip through the Sound and up the Inside Passage. Hear my words: December is not a good month to be on the Pacific Ocean, even with the most skilled captain at the wheel. I haven't heard from Charlie since then. I hope to hell he made it back in one piece. Not that I have any chance to find out whether any of my family still survives as human and not alien. I don't dare bring that risk down upon them. It was all I could do to stay hidden when Bill appeared to carry off one shipment of our SFC vaccine for the Navy last summer. If Mulder hadn't been here to hold me while I watched Bill, I don't know what I would have done. We knew it had to be this way. But damn, it's hard. Where *is* Mulder, anyway? He and Adam keep disappearing on weird little forays into the world. Adam's good, but he's crazy and they get hurt far too often. I'm much more comfortable when Mulder's off with Coop--while they both tend to wild hairs of fantasy neither Coop nor Mulder are belligerent like Adam. Both can blend in pretty well--but Adam? I'm scared one day they'll get caught, and then where will we be? I'd go with Mulder on these raids--spying forays--whatever the hell they're doing, they won't tell me--but everyone seems to think that a seven month's pregnant woman with red hair might be somewhat conspicious. They're right but that doesn't make it easier. I need distraction, more distraction than I can get from refining the vaccine and studying new treatments for the black oil disease. It's too easy to look up and suddenly flash back on Emily in the hospital--or Elizabeth. Four years since Emily died. A year and a half--almost two--since Elizabeth died. Emily hurt--but I'd only known her for a few days. Her death meant the final death to my fertility--or so I thought. But Elizabeth--she was the child of renewed hope. I carried her for nine months, then spent a month watching her die. Damn the Consortium. We still don't know for certain how they got to me during my pregnancy, but poor little Elizabeth never had a chance to survive thanks to them. And now this child. Any complication will be a problem. I fear everything with this child. Discovery by the aliens, premature delivery, complications of delivery, having to flee this place in labor, or with a newborn--there is no end of things for me to fear. Having a child now is foolish. But when we found out I was pregnant again, on the anniversary of Elizabeth's death, Mulder took my chin in his hand. Kissed me. Told me that she was our hope for a future. Unlike Elizabeth, unlike Emily, the aliens and their Consortium never had a chance to come near this child. All the tests we've been able to do suggest she inherited our immunity to the alien black oil. But will she live long enough for it to be of any value? I see Mulder trudging through the snow to the house now, limping. The old injury is bothering him--I hope that's all it is, and he's not hurt again. He's moving like it's nothing more than the old injury acting up, but he's too good at faking it for me to be sure. Oh well. They've survived another one. That's the best I can hope for now. But how long, Lord? How long can we hold out? Please. Let this child be born safely. Let her be normal, or at least as normal as she can be in these troubled times. Let us succeed so she can grow up. (Tape ends here) jrw Followed by:
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