DISCLAIMER: X Files belongs to Chris Carter, 1013 Productions, or Fox Entertainment and a whole bunch of other people. Not me.
SPOILERS: Set Season 8:14 `This is not happening` onwards. Specific mentions of Season 9:08 `TrustNo1' and 9:14 `Improbable'
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.

By Celievamp


She never expected it to happen. They met under the worst of circumstances after all. Everything about her aroused Dana's suspicions. Hormones unchecked, raging her emotional control on a knife edge, everything about her aroused Dana's desires. But she could not act on them. Not on that worst of days.

Monica Reyes. Doggett vouched for her which was something, but not enough. There was a `twitch' of familiarity about her and when it finally hit Dana who she reminded her of, she wanted to cry. Loss and longing battled within her. Monica reminded her of Melissa. Another ghost. Another death on her overburdened conscience.

She dealt with it the only way she knew. Her walls went up even higher, thicker, rimed with ice. Dana knew that she was being barely polite, that the other woman had done nothing to deserve her frosty ire. It was a bad day. It was no excuse.

Monica Reyes was a specialist in ritualistic crime particularly so-called satanic abuse cases. She was a smoker. Even though she didn't know that Dana was pregnant, Dana's hackles rose at that.

"What we think happened and what actually happened aren't always the same thing but not altogether insignificant either…"

She talked like a therapist. Another reason not to trust a word she said.

"I just have certain spiritual notions. I believe there are energies in the universe. It might sound kind of cosmic but I think I'm sensitive to them. I get these feelings…"

Deja-vu. It was Missy all over again.

"Do you have any feelings about Agent Mulder?" Dana had asked.

"I don't know Agent Mulder. And I don't have any feelings about him. But I am feeling your fear. And fear's not going to help you find him or anyone else. Maybe you can try and stay open too."

Stay open. She could do that. She wasn't a bad person. Now all she had to do was prove that to Monica.

Their paths crossed a few more times before and after Dana went on maternity leave, comets in eccentric orbits. And every time the pull towards her grew stronger.

Another bad day. The most extreme of circumstances. In a daze of pain and fear Dana heard Monica say that she was beautiful. She had just trusted her life to the woman and that of her unborn son. She saw the love for her in Monica's eyes, knew it for the truest of emotions. And her sure, steady hands brought William into the world and Dana saw that Monica loved him too, that whilst William drew breath Monica would protect him against all danger no matter what the personal cost.

A fragment of poetry stuck in her mind. Sappho of all people. A long time ago in another life Dana Scully had done a semester of Romantic Poetry because she needed an Arts credit and it was the last thing anyone who thought they knew her would ever expect her to do. One of the poets she had studied was Sappho. Who knew `servant Eros' was Roswell Grey.

Monica was assigned the X Files in her place whilst she was on maternity leave. Dana felt that Mulder's legacy was in good hands. She knew she could not go back to that basement office. She had a higher cause now: the wellbeing of her son.

Mulder's disaffection hit her hard. But Monica was there to help. She watched William for her, brought groceries that she thought Dana might need when she dropped by. And as the X-Files drew her remorselessly into their clutches again, Dana thanked god or whoever was listening that Monica Reyes had her back.

And the woman seemed to have infinite patience. She did not push or prompt, she did not take things further than Dana was comfortable with or hint that this wasn't what she wanted. She was never less than polite, gracious and supportive.

Over the next few months they became a couple. Monica spent most of her off-duty time at Dana's house. They talked about her moving in properly but both women were afraid how that might be seen in certain circles. There was also the question of `consummating' their relationship. They had made out on the couch a few times, had slept in the same bed on the odd occasion but had not yet had sex with one another. They were both holding back from that final step. Then, after their encounter with the so-called `Shadowman' when they realized that every move they had made during the course of their relationship had already been noted and recorded they made the decision. What did they have to lose any more?

Dana remembered Shadowman's words: "I know your blood type, your resting heart rate, your childhood fear of clowns. I know the name of your College boyfriend, your true hair colour, your ATM pin number, favourite 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. But he didn't have your heart. No one did, did they Scully? Not until her. Not until Monica Reyes…" He paused for a moment as if considering his words. "What you might not know, Scully… is that she feels for you every bit what you feel for her. But she won't act. Not until she's certain it's what you want. The ball's in your court, Agent Scully."

Oh, Monica had her heart all right. And her soul. And the way Monica's mind worked, her metaphysical outlook, her empathy made Dana feel closer to her sister. Of all the gifts Monica's presence in her life had given her, this was perhaps the greatest. For all their differences, she could talk to Monica about things they didn't agree on without being reduced to sniping or arguing about it – something Dana had never achieved with Melissa. She had the very strong sense that her sister would have approved of Monica and that the two women would have been friends. Dana wished more than anything else that she and Melissa had reached this point in their relationship. It hurt Dana to think how often she had willfully misrepresented her sister, mistaking compassion, optimism and empathy as `new age flakiness'.

Dana trusted her life to Monica without question – her life and the life of her son. She understood about Mulder: accepted Dana's complicated emotions regarding the man. Even though Dana had told her more than once that whatever had once been between her and Mulder was now ancient history. He had no part in her future or that of her son. They had made the effort to talk about it – about him – on what constituted their first official date. A clearing of the air. No holds barred, no secrets. Dana realized afresh how lucky she was to have this woman in her life: Monica had seen her at her worst, knew the amount of baggage she carried, the number of ghosts at her back. And still she wanted a relationship.

"You miss him a lot." This was a fact, not a question.

Dana didn't trust herself to speak. She nodded. Monica moved closer, laid a gentle hand on her arm. "He'll be okay… I have faith in that and so should you, all that you've been through together. I know that doesn't make it any easier, but you have me and you have John – and your mother and William of course. And Skinner and the Lone Gunmen have your back. We can't take his place, I know, but we can carry on what he started." The caress of those long fingers on the skin of her forearm was reassuring and arousing at the same time. "And if you ever want to talk about him… I've been told that I'm a good listener. It's hard to lose someone who means so much to you… And I just want you to know that you don't have to go through that alone."

They respected each other. They complemented each other. Monica did not mind that Dana was a skeptic and frequently questioned her `intuitions' because at the same time she knew Dana respected Monica's apparent ability to see patterns where she could not. Dana was a scientist, she didn't deal with things at face value. But if Dana had learnt anything in almost a decade with the X-Files it was that many things in this world did not have a neatly rational explanation. She had learnt to be open to possibilities. She had learnt not to dismiss other people's experiences as baseless. She had seen too many things herself that she could not adequately explain. Whilst she might challenge some of the things Monica said or believed it was out of a desire to understand, to have things make sense rather than of belittling Monica. And Monica understood that.

With Monica, Dana could allow herself to be emotional, even vulnerable knowing that Monica would never take advantage of her. It amazed her how blessed she was by her friendship with this woman, what a gift it was to her.

Dana was not one for unnecessary physical contact, but Monica was exempt from that. Monica's arms were the safest place in the world, always had been from the first time the taller woman had spontaneously enveloped her in a hug.

When they did finally get together it just felt… right. Dana reveled in the feel of sleek muscled arms holding her, long slender fingers running through her hair. She tasted of cinnamon and honey and when she came she cried softly, almost a sigh but no one would ever mistake it for a sound of sorrow. Dana lay beneath her as Monica's sure touch brought her to completion, satiation, made her fly. Her dark eyes never left Dana's face. Dana realized that she had found everything she ever wanted in a lover, and that she was most definitely in love. Later, they switched places, Dana straddling her lover's slim waist, Monica's fingers deftly playing with her clit as Dana reached behind her, stroking her fingers through Monica's warm silky wetness, both of them smiling, almost laughing in the simple joy of being together.

That first night they fell asleep in each other's arms and waking a few hours later Dana lay and watched Monica sleep until she heard William begin to fuss and then she quietly got up to attend to her son. When she came out of his nursery a little while later, Monica was showered and dressed and standing in the kitchen making pancakes and bacon for breakfast, a pot of coffee warming on the stove. And it felt as if they had done this all their lives rather than it just being for the first time and as Monica turned to smile at Dana, Dana knew that the other woman felt the same way.

This was it. Completion. Just as Monica had told her when she did her numerological profile.

Her mother, Maggie Scully saw it too, the resemblance to Missy. Dana brought Monica as her `date' to Thanksgiving dinner at her mother's that year. Maggie Scully didn't think anything of it at first – Dana had brought the family-phobic Mulder as her guest one year and a year ago it had been John Doggett who had sat at her table. But as they sat and ate and drank and talked Dana saw her mother's expression grow thoughtful. She had always been uncommonly perceptive, like her eldest daughter. Dana was more than a little nervous – Maggie Scully was a staunch Catholic after all.

However, later that evening, as mother and daughter stood in the kitchen packing away the leftovers and putting them into the fridge, all that Maggie asked was, "Dana, does she make you happy?"

"Yes," Dana said truthfully. "Monica makes me happier than I've been for a very long time." She levelled her gaze at her mother, letting her see the sincerity of her words. "I love her, mom."

Her mother smiled, laid a gentle hand on her daughter's cheek. "Then that's all that matters."

After they had finished in the kitchen Maggie drew Monica to one side and let the young woman know that she was always welcome in her house and should consider herself part of the family. "It is wonderful to have another daughter again. Melissa would have welcomed you as a sister as well."

Monica was incredibly touched by that, her own birth family was long lost to her and her adopted parents, though they had loved her as if she was one of their own, had died when she was just a teenager. To be part of a family again was a gift she had not expected. It was a gift fate had given to both of them, a happiness Dana could not imagine sharing with anyone else.

The End

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