Still working on the others (SV and Veronica Mars, in which I'm considering doing one of the crazywrong pairings suggested by
scribblinlenore's poll). They will come, I promise.
For
ingrid_m; no prompts, but I just watched Existence (the season 8 finale):
Monica had seen enough to know that Dana’s fears for her baby were not unfounded, even if the reasons for the threats were mysterious and even incomprehensible. Still, Dana’s outburst during the birth surprised Monica: “Don’t take the baby,” Dana kept saying, commanding the air, begging the invisible around her. “It’s my baby, mine,” she repeated like a mantra. After a while, it began to sound less like a plea and more – well, selfish, as if the baby existed just for her needs and not for its own. As if the baby were a reward she deserved for surviving everything beforehand.
And maybe she did deserve a reward; Monica wasn’t prepared to judge that. She just worried that, if Dana thought a baby was going to compensate for all the losses and uncertainties in her life, she was going to be gravely disappointed.
For
saraslash, non-depressing:
The thing about Mulder is that, no matter how careless or annoying he can be, he has an endless reservoir of compassion. Often for people – for *women* -- who happen to annoy the hell out of Scully, but after uncomfortable soul-searching she’s forced to admit that the causation on that might run the wrong way. Because it’s not planned or forced, not something he learned studying psychology or dealing with victims. His sympathy – never pity, the way Marty Glenn the not-quite-blind woman thought – wells up from him, pure and bright, a glimpse of his soul that he can’t hide from the world no matter how much he plays the cynic other times.
Mulder’s greatest gift to her is that he has so rarely offered her that compassion. The reason for that is the reason she’s learned not to be jealous of the Marty Glenns and Karen Berquists of the world: he doesn’t see her as damaged.
For
Monica had seen enough to know that Dana’s fears for her baby were not unfounded, even if the reasons for the threats were mysterious and even incomprehensible. Still, Dana’s outburst during the birth surprised Monica: “Don’t take the baby,” Dana kept saying, commanding the air, begging the invisible around her. “It’s my baby, mine,” she repeated like a mantra. After a while, it began to sound less like a plea and more – well, selfish, as if the baby existed just for her needs and not for its own. As if the baby were a reward she deserved for surviving everything beforehand.
And maybe she did deserve a reward; Monica wasn’t prepared to judge that. She just worried that, if Dana thought a baby was going to compensate for all the losses and uncertainties in her life, she was going to be gravely disappointed.
For
The thing about Mulder is that, no matter how careless or annoying he can be, he has an endless reservoir of compassion. Often for people – for *women* -- who happen to annoy the hell out of Scully, but after uncomfortable soul-searching she’s forced to admit that the causation on that might run the wrong way. Because it’s not planned or forced, not something he learned studying psychology or dealing with victims. His sympathy – never pity, the way Marty Glenn the not-quite-blind woman thought – wells up from him, pure and bright, a glimpse of his soul that he can’t hide from the world no matter how much he plays the cynic other times.
Mulder’s greatest gift to her is that he has so rarely offered her that compassion. The reason for that is the reason she’s learned not to be jealous of the Marty Glenns and Karen Berquists of the world: he doesn’t see her as damaged.
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