From: ephemeral@ephemeralfic.org
Date: Wed, 15 Oct 2008 13:27:13 -0500 (CDT)
Subject: The Secret Life of Dana Scully by chalcedony.1
Source: direct

Reply To: chalcedony.1@hotmail.com



Title: The Secret Life of Dana Scully
Spoilers: Beyond the Sea, Clyde Bruckman, The End, Milagro, 
TrustNo1
Rating: G
Notes: Ruminations on Scully's secrets or lack thereof. 



Dana Scully kept a diary for awhile during the summer of 
her thirteenth year.  Melissa found it and read it out in 
front of her while her brothers held her down as she 
struggled against them.  They'd teased her about the few 
stilted lines she'd written of her love for a boy in her 
8th grade class.  She had been mortified.  She never kept a 
diary again after that because she was the kind of person 
who wouldn't want it to be found and read in her absence.  
This unwritten rule of hers was broken once when she was in 
the hospital with cancer.  She scribbled a few notes, 
planning to destroy them before anyone read them, but like 
most of Scully's secrets, this one failed, as Mulder found 
her diary and read it.  He may not have known how deeply 
she loved him--she may not have known it herself--but her 
deathbed diary was addressed to him, so that was something.  

The crazy guys knew her secrets--Luther Lee Boggs knew her 
secret nickname, Clyde Bruckman knew how she would (or 
wouldn't) die.  Robert Modell revealed more to Mulder and 
Scully about her secret love and secret strength than 
anyone else ever would or could again.  Gibson Praise knew 
her secrets but kept them to himself.  Philip Padget told 
Mulder that she was already in love--he just didn't bother 
to say with whom.  Scully's secrets were out there.     

There were the secrets that Scully kept to herself--her 
past affairs with men, some married, some not.

It goes without saying that Frohike knew exactly how much 
money Scully spent on shoes each month. 

There were the secrets about Scully that she didn't know 
and couldn't ever know--but the men in black suits knew.  
What exactly had been done to her during her abduction?  
What had been done with her stolen ova? How many of her 
children had been sacrificed to experiments or endured 
unspeakable suffering, alone, without her to comfort them?  
How many of them still lived?  And what was William? Would 
she ever know?  

And the greatest travesty of all--the secret she would most 
want to keep--to share only with the one true love of her 
life--that moment when first their love was expressed and 
declared and mapped out body and soul--this too, was not 
her secret to keep or share or savor.  

In fact, the shadow man had said it all.  "I know your 
blood type, your resting heart rate, your childhood fear of 
clowns (but who of us believes Scully had a childhood fear 
of clowns?).  I know the name of your college boyfriend 
your true hair color, your ATM pin number, favorite 
charities, pet peeves.  I know you spend too much time 
alone.  And I know ... that on one lonely night you invited 
Mulder to your bed."

What most marked Scully's secret life was the absence of 
it.  Scully's secrets were not secrets at all.  The truth 
was out there.