Date: Mon, 13 Dec 1999 13:59:46 EST Subject: REV: And She Waits (1/1) Source: revision Category: V Rating: PG Keywords: None Spoilers: Emily Summary: What if Scully really did hear Melissa's voice on the phone? And She Waits by Martha marthalgm@yahoo.com She always sits on the bench underneath that willow tree. There are others that are closer, but this one is in the shade and perhaps for her tastes provides the better view. I've been here over two years now, and I can't really say that any view is the best. Then again, I'm usually here, and she's just a visitor - I wouldn't exactly categorize a cemetery as having a 'good' side to it. But I guess if scenery is what you're looking for, a shaded area, a cool bench, and a quiet neighborhood could fit the bill. You'd think that she would sit in the middle of the bench; but no. She always sits off to one side, as if she is waiting for someone to join her. For anyone to stop along the way to take a break in the shade and reminisce about whom they are visiting. But no one else ever comes. She is always alone. And so she sits on the shaded bench, usually to the left side farthest away from the tree and waits. Waits for me. Or our father. I do not know if she would ever really admit it to herself that we sometimes converse. Her structured scientific mind, her insistence on substance over style, would never allow for the possibility of a dialogue with the spirits. But I know that when I speak to her, I can hear her thoughts in return. Perhaps it is just wishful thinking on my part that she is responding to me. How does that joke go? Talking to yourself is not necessarily a sign of mental illness but when you start *arguing* with yourself . . . And heaven knows, Dana loves to argue. A slight breeze has picked up, and her hair is lightly dancing across her face. Any other time, she would raise her hand and tuck her hair behind her ears. But she is tired, so very tired. The paleness of her face betrays her beauty; the pursing of her lips exaggerates the lines around her mouth. She so badly needs a good cry - a cleansing breakdown-and-cry-into-a-pillow-sob-for-days and then a good long nap afterwards. Always worked for me. Why is it that she refuses to let go with her emotions? Bill and I took after Mom in that department - our loves, our hates, our disappointments, all are worn for the world to see. You always knew where you stood with us. Maybe this is why Mom and I were always at odds, why I could only handle Bill in small doses. But Dana and Charlie - they hid their feelings well, just like Dad. Hey, after watching the older ones butt heads with the parents, who can blame them? Maybe that's why she never wanted to upset Mom and Dad, never felt that constant urge to rebel. And when she did, she felt this overwhelming guilt about having done it and how she was disappointing our parents. Just like our faith drilled in to us. Why do the sons dare not disappoint the fathers, but the daughters continually defy the mothers? Bill, that model of stoicy, following in Dad's footsteps, to his everlasting delight. Charlie, also, to a lesser extent. I refused to conform. I scoffed at the other girls in high school who thought that marrying a Navy man in dress blues was the highest attainment of their lives. Didn't these women ever look at their mothers and examine their lives? The separations, the moving, the constant unknown. Never knowing if the next world conflict would place your husband in the line of fire. No thanks. It's *just* as easy to fall in love with a civilian . . . Dana pacified that by wanting a career. There would be time for husbands and family later, they thought; right now, Dana's making us proud with her studies. But when she made that abrupt switch to the FBI, you could feel the tension growing in the household. Medicine was a 'safe' career. The FBI? She may as well have joined the Navy. She doesn't know it yet, but Dana is so much more perceptive than I. She has that gift, has always had it, but has never allowed herself to explore that talent. It just doesn't mesh with what she believes about herself, about what she believes is possible in this world and the next. Or perhaps she does know it and continues to deny it to herself. She does not believe me when I told her that she really was hearing my voice on those phone calls in San Diego. Well, it was me, and then it wasn't me. It was really just Dana all along. She is only now coming into her own with her abilities. She admitted to us that she saw our father, or thought she saw him, just before Mom called to tell her of his passing. I am quite certain that it really did happen. And now that I know about the phone calls . . . I am still not sure how the phone calls came into being. Dana heard my voice on some of them because I was on her mind at the time of the calls. That first one just after she arrived at Bill's - she and Mom had just been discussing past Christmases. The second, in the middle of the night - Dana had just had a dream about the two of us. The last one, where she could not hear any voice, Mulder was standing right beside her. I would bet that was why she could not hear anyone. She could not let herself go at that moment, not with that tie back to her real world intervening. She would never allow for the probability for this to happen with that kind of interference. Someone, perhaps Emily herself, willed those calls to happen. Dana and Emily are mother and daughter after all. It's not so far-fetched. Emily was scared and in danger; she reached out and found her mother. For a time anyway. So now Emily has passed. And Dana is waiting for me. I am here to tell her that Emily is running with the other children, playing tag and hide-and-go-seek. She still likes to color and wants to be sung to at bedtime. I just wish that I could show Dana some of those pictures. Especially the ones of the woman with the red hair and a little girl. With a cross necklace. But I have a feeling that Dana already knows this. end