Swans
ALLY112038@AOL.COM 

Rating - PG 
Classification - None 
Spoilers - None Archive - Anywhere 
Feedback - Good, bad, indifferent I'll lap it up. E-Mail Ally112038@aol.com . 
Disclaimer - They aren't mine. They never will be. No infringement intended towards 1013 Productions, FOX or the wonderful people who have brightened my life for the past seven years or so. 

 

Author's notes - I don't really have any for this one! I was bored one night and this was the result. thanks to Pam for a quick beta. :-)

 

 

 

I was more than a little surprised to see her here although I suppose that on a balmy Summer evening she has as much right to be here as anyone else. I often find myself drifting towards this place at the end of the day.

Just to sit amongst the trees and flowers, enjoying an almost forgotten view of what *normal* people do during their down time. Watching young couples strolling along, arms entwined as they focus yearning glances on each other. Nothing exists for them but the moment. Then of course there are those who don't have the luxury of being able to block the world out. Still young, but now with the added pressure of keeping an eagle eye on their offspring. Kids who take off in front of them, heedless to their parent's warnings not to go too far ahead.

It sometimes seems as though the whole world is here, each in their own way, appreciating this oasis of life that is tucked away in the corner of a concrete jungle.

I used to jog here. Back when I actually had someone to share the experience with, but now, years have passed and I just like to observe.

I know I look out of place here. A lone man, firmly stuck in middle age, sitting on the smooth turf in a two piece business suit. But I don't let that small detail deter me. No one ever seems to notice anyway, and if they do, they are much too polite to say anything to me.

Sometimes, I wonder what they would think if they *really* knew who and what I am. An agent of the FBI, who long since resigned himself to being alone, spending time in the park. Living through other's lives what I can never hope to have.

I knew I loved her a long time ago. I think I might have fell in love with her the very day she first walked in to my office. So young, so trusting, so *naive*. Over the years I have watched that innocence stripped from her. Piece by painful piece with every new deception, she has become a little older, a little wiser, a little.

But as I watch her now, it is all to easy to imagine that the years have never been. Dana Scully is a beautiful woman in every sense of the word, and now, as the sunlight bounces off her bright copper hair I am literally dazzled by her.

She is maybe fifty yards from me, offering me a clear, unobstructed view of her as she walks towards the lake. Dressed casually in jeans and a navy shirt, she appears to be much younger than her thirty six years. My eyes flick down to her feet. Sneakers. So glaringly white they almost hurt my eyes. It figures. Scully is not the kind of woman to wear grubby footwear. I should know.

She is holding something in her hand, and I find myself squinting against the bright sunlight in order to better determine what it might be. A small bag I decide. Although, containing what I'm not entirely sure.

She is still heading towards the lake and my eyes follow her progress, drinking in her image like a man denied sustenance for a lifetime. I love watching this woman move. She has the grace of a cat, the strength of a great bear. For all her apparent vulnerability, she has proved herself to me on countless occasions and I realised a long time ago, that this tiny woman has a steel spirit unlike anything I have ever experienced before.

I have found myself, on occasion, wanting to protect her, and if I'm honest, I have kept certain things from her in an effort to do just that.

She has always found a way to thwart my efforts though. Telling me, in no uncertain terms at the same time, what she thinks of me for trying. She is a capable agent in her own right. I *know* that. But it doesn't prevent me from looking out for her. As far as she'll let me that is. Protection on *her* terms. I have to be satisfied with that.

She's reached the lake now, and is squatting down at the edge of the sparkling water. Her lips are moving, but I am too far away to make out her words. I'm tempted to move closer, but a fear of discovery prevents me, and then, a small smile plays across my lips as I realise her true purpose for being in the park tonight.

She reaches in to the bag she is holding, and gently throws a piece of bread towards the lake. I watch transfixed as she gently coaxes the lone swan from the water towards her. bribing it with small treats until it is only inches away from her.

I've seen the bird before. It is a permanent fixture here. Left alone when on the lake to live in isolation, fully dependent on the humans who frequent this place for companionship. I'm not sure, but I don't think it can fly. I've seen it try a couple of times, only to eventually cease in it's efforts to escape this place of beauty. Content for a while longer in it's surroundings.

It is a beautiful bird. A noble bird. And it is somehow fitting that it has chosen Scully as a friend.

She is still speaking. I would dearly love to hear those words, spoken I am sure in those soft tones she reserves only for times when her guard is down. It's almost like being a part of a fairy tale as I watch as she coaxes it ever nearer, until eventually, the swan stretches out it's neck to take a piece of bread from Scully's palm. It doesn't snatch. It's movements are slow, deliberate, as though it senses that this remarkable woman will never seek to hurt it in any way.

Even from a distance, I can see the smile that lights up her face. It's not a smile she chooses to bestow too often, and one which makes my heart twist painfully in my chest. I would give my life if I thought it would allow her to smile like that more often. Just as I would sell my soul to tell her how I really feel about her.

But I know it could never be. Too much has gone between us to ever allow me to express my true feelings to her. She would never accept me in that way. She considers me to be a part of her life. her *friend*. Nothing more.

So I just content myself with watching her, it's a view I will hold on to even as I let myself in to my silent apartment. This view of Dana Scully in the park on a mid week evening, smiling gently as she tends to that beautiful creature before her. I will never mention to her that I know how she spends her summer evenings. Never mention the fact that I have watched her as she feeds swans in the park.

Tomorrow I will, as usual, be all business. It's what she has come to expect of me and I refuse to upset the delicate balance of our relationship.

A man has joined her by the lake, and as I squint against the sunlight I realise that it is time to go.

I shouldn't be watching her like this. She would be angry and uncomfortable if she knew that I had seen her.

Had seen *them.*

So I begin to rise, cursing softly as my cell phone trills. The sound seems stark, out of place in these surroundings, and I stab at the send button before the second ring has had time to die.

Time to let go of the image of Scully. Time to get back to business. And so I identify myself to the caller.

"This is Skinner."

I allow myself one last glance towards them and I can't help a small, sad smile, watching as Mulder pulls Scully gently towards him. The swan senses that it is no longer the centre of attention, and it too turns away, leaving them to each other.

Back to solitude.