TITLE: WHAT'S DONE IN SILENCE (1 of 1)

AUTHOR: DAVID HEARNE

CLASSIFICATION: Post-ep for "Essence"

RATING: PG

SPOILERS: "Essence" and pretty much the whole mythology arc along with
"Beyond the Sea"

ARCHIVE: Can be archived anywhere.

Send feedback to ottercrk@sover.net

Website is located at http://members.dencity.com/hearne

REPOST: I re-read this thing three times and all three times I missed
that I called Bill Scully "Bill Mulder."

Sigh. Thanks, Rachel.

As I wrote before, "I hope to be a much better writer at thirty-age
than at twenty-eight."

Uh, right.

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When faced with the unknown, I try to stay optimistic. When confronted
with the incomprehensible, I remember the protection and love of God.
When I no longer know where I'm headed, I look for the possibility of
hope.

And I blow up balloons.

I was cut off from Dana long before her disappearance. I accepted this
to a certain extent. You start out with receiving a phone call from
your child everyday to not hearing from her for a whole month. You
must teach her independence even to the point when you feel saddened
by a sense of diminished necessity.

Lord knows Dana became independent. When she decided to enter the FBI,
I was startled. My little girl with a badge and a gun? No, no. She has
to be a doctor. However, Bill and I couldn't dissuade her. She had
found her own road and was going to stay on it.

I envied her. For me, housewife has been my accepted assignment in
life. Call it traditional or call it archaic, but I could never see
myself beyond this role. It helped that I genuinely loved my husband
and my children. I've been challenged and rewarded by my duty. Yet I
have often wondered about the rewards Dana found in her chosen life.

I never said these things to Bill. His disappointment in Dana was
large, because his ambition for her was the greatest. Bill, Jr. and
Charles were training for solid careers in the Navy. Melissa
would...go wherever she was going. Dana, on the other hand, would
distinguish herself more than anyone. She would impress everyone with
her skills as a doctor and her knowledge as a scientist. Bill Scully,
Sr. wanted the world to know what a bright child he had fathered.

We never talked about his disappointment. "If that's what she wants to
do, then that's what she'll do," Bill would say, summing up every
comment he wanted to make on the topic. We're not much on talking
about private matters in our family. It's a personality trait which my
husband passed onto almost everyone, including myself. We can be
friendly and polite, but never quite open. That is, until we perform
an unexpected action such as a marriage proposal or a choice in
career.

The result of this was a loving house, but a secretive one. We cared
for each other. We never talked about what this caring meant or faced
its possible fragility. We just assumed that it would always be there
in the same way a Navy man expects the solidarity of his fellow
sailors or an FBI agent anticipates the aid of a partner.

We stay silent.

Until it's too late.

Bill went to his grave without ever saying how much pride he took in
his daughter's accomplishments. Dana disappeared from the world as she
had disappeared from my life. When she returned and came close to
dying, she returned to her job at the second she was released from the
hospital. I wanted to talk with her so very badly then. I wanted us to
look at our love and the fear I sensed living inside of her.

If you talk about love, however, you might say something which kills
it. If you look at fear, then it might get stronger.

Melissa could talk about these things. She was the only one who could
brave losing the protection of silence. She could have encouraged Dana
to open up.

Then Melissa died.

And my baby daughter was dying again. I was angered by her silence for
the first time. How dare she keep this from me?

Then I remembered that this silence had been created by myself as
well. I had encouraged her to believe that she had the courage to face
things no one should face alone.

How far do you let a child go before you run after her?

I was resolved to hold onto her until the very last minute. I would
rely on God's love as much as my own. I knew that Dana had drifted
from the Church. The cross around her neck had more nostalgic value
for her than religious significance. I had always wanted to encourage
her back towards the Church, but I was afraid of alienating her. This
time, I reminded her of salvation as gently as I could, even though I
doubted my chances for reaching her.

Yet I did reach her. At the very edge of death, she prayed with Father
McCue. She cried before me in a way I had never thought I would see
again. It frightened me. Yet I knew that this fear would mark the way
to a closure we both sought.

Yes. Closure. At that point, I was prepared to lose another daughter.

Then we had a miracle. I'm not ashamed to call it that. My daughter
was healed and I know God guided her recovery. I thanked Him with all
of my heart. I thanked Him for this second chance. I promised Him,
myself and Dana that silence would never be my refuge again.

Then another miracle occurred. Only this one did not bring joy. I
don't understand what Emily meant or from where she came. At least,
I'm not sure if I accept the offered possibilities. The only thing
which I know for sure is that Emily pushed Dana away from me again.
She retreated into the comfort of silence.

I allowed her to flee. I couldn't find anything which could give
solace -- not words, religion or a mother's love. I know the pain of
losing a child, but not like this.

I don't even recognize the world in which she lives. These stories
about men working in their own silence and... aliens...they only add
confusion to my pain.

There's one man who seems capable of explaining this strange new world
to me. Fox Mulder reminds me of Melissa in some ways. Of course, he's
angry where she was calm. However, he also wants others to face the
truth, no matter what.

At least, that's the person I had believed him to be. From what Dana
has told me, he has been keeping information from her as well --
information with a direct bearing on Emily. This made me angry and
upset at first, but I remembered again that I was not someone to throw
stones at someone else's silence. So, instead of forcing explanations
and concerns to light, I backed away from Dana and Fox. I would let
them choose their own time to talk.

Then, one night, I found a message on my answering machine. I heard
Dana's voice speaking with as much sorrow as when she was dying of
cancer. I went to her and learned about a new miracle.

A new miracle and a new horror.

I'm not sure if I can tell the difference between them anymore.

I didn't know what to feel. I asked for explanations and she said,
"Mom...I honestly can't give you one."

Eventually I decided to be happy. My daughter was going to have a
child of her own, even though she should not have been able to have
one. I accepted this miracle at face value because Dana seemed to as
well. No matter how you looked at it, this baby was her child and my
grandchild. Surely there was happiness to be found in its creation.

So up went the balloons. Other women gathered to laugh over cute toys
offered as gifts. When she was asked about the baby, I interceded for
her. Whoever the father was, his identity was Dana's business alone. I
was not going to lose her again by pushing her too hard for answers.

Then a stranger came into my daughter's house. And I gave her
entrance. I accepted this smiling, friendly woman as merely a person
who answered my want ad. No harm was created by my foolishness, but my
shame is well-deserved. I made decisions in a world where I can't find
my way. I violated a daughter's trust. I failed to see the damage
caused by wandering into places hidden with silence.

Now my daughter is gone again. Fox has assured me that she is safe and
I had nothing to do with the danger she faces.

I looked at this man -- another miracle which I don't understand. I
wanted him to tell me the things my daughter never explained. <Is my
ignorance for my own protection?> I should have asked. <Or am I just
doomed to be a clumsy bystander?>

I only nodded.

And stayed silent.

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