Journal Entry No. 1
journal entry no. 1, march 6, 1992
this is yet another attempt to keep an informal journal of my
one more personal and revelatory than anything i submit to the fbi
bureaucracy. it's the perfect time to start it, i just met my new
partner this afternoon.
she's so small. i guess petite would be the correct word for it,
but i wouldn't dare let her hear that from me. the way she held her
head high, unbowed, unintimidated by her new male partner... it's
evident that she's worked hard for respect from her colleagues, male
i'm awed and fascinated by her. she's beautiful, in an ingenue
of way. gorgeous blue eyes, sensuous lips... it will be hard to
resist... but it has to be strictly business this time. i can't
allow myself to get involved this time. diana is gone and i realize
my foolishness when it came to her.
whatever made me believe that the same trust i gave to diana as my
fbi partner would spill over into our private lives? whatever made
me believe that it wouldn't jeopardize our jobs, even our lives, if
we became involved? no more screw-ups this time.
she hurt me and i deserved everything i got from her. i should
never have trusted another woman with my heart. i should have known
that after phoebe...
anyway, back to my new partner. she's very bright, quick. i
wonder how long she'll last with me. i'll try not to alienate her,
at least not at first. i'm not a fucking sadist, for god's sake.
she'll have her opportunity to spy on me, but i won't let her devalue
she's very well qualified. a doctor, a physicist, a forensic
pathologist. she's all those things. and probably a whole lot more,
concealed underneath that tough, enigmatic exterior.
i'd like to get to know her, to see what lies beneath that facade.
she endured ten annoying, arrogance-filled minutes with me today.
and it didn't faze her one bit. i know i came on strong, i know i
was a jerk. it was the only way i could defend myself.
how could she possibly understand that logic and reason don't
xfile cases? she won't know until we go out there in the field and
she sees what i mean, *really* mean. phenomena with no explanations
rooted in 'the realm of science,' as she so put it. puzzles with
missing pieces, clues that take you on a scavenger hunt all over the
united states, all over the globe...
maybe it will be nice to have a partner. someone to have dinner
with for a change. even if we don't get along *that* well, i'll
probably enjoy a little company during a stakeout.
i will not get involved with my partner this time. i will not get
involved with my partner this time. maybe i should find a blackboard
and write it over and over. i can't let it happen, i won't let it
burned once, twice shy. it's been long enough since diana walked
out on me (and it was *her* walking out on me) that the sting should
be gone. yeah, sure it was a great opportunity for her. run off to
europe, leave me in the lurch. we must have had a love/hate
relationship, because i sure hate her guts now.
maybe, if i ever see her again, if enough time elapses, we'll be
civil to one another. i sure was a bastard after she told me. she
was still living in my apartment, too. i gladly slept on the couch
till she went home to her mom several days later.
we barely spoke a word to each other after the initial argument,
which fortunately enough did *not* end with makeup sex. i couldn't
have tolerated a pity fuck from her. and it would have made it so
much more difficult, more heartbreaking. it was bad enough as it
was. don't get my hopes up that you'll ever want to come back to me,
back to my new partner. she doesn't believe in aliens. she gave
the stock answer to my question without any hesitation. and i shot
her down as fast as i could. 'conventional wisdom,' i said.
i didn't let her know that i did have some unwilling respect for
answer, that it wasn't badly phrased or formulated. it was just
plain wrong. i truly believe that. and i just *had* to be right,
had to show her who's senior-agent-in-charge here. what a fucking
bastard you are, mulder.
maybe it will be great to have a forensic pathologist around.
never been completely satisfied with these small-town coroners.
maybe that training, that ability to provide clear and unadulterated
evidence will be a plus. her record's spotless, her integrity is on
the line here, she wouldn't dare skew results to benefit whoever's
trying to shut down the xfiles. i hope.
she's beautiful. how will i spend endless days with her, on the
road, in autopsy bays, in our respective apartments (and there's no
getting away from that, all partners end up working long nights at
home), without succumbing to her charms. true, i always have dated
taller women. but she's so beautiful, so...
she'll set the rules. she'll resist me. she'll lay down the
we can't cross. i won't even give it a thought after a while,
because she's strong enough, smart enough to put up those
professional barriers that male/female partners absolutely need.
though, i haven't seen them stay up that often. i've witnessed,
experienced those walls tumble down, bulldozed by the oldest sin in
the book, temptation.
i'll make her call me mulder. diana was too personal with me; she
called me 'fox.' and besides, she knew i didn't care for my first
name. she just used it to get closer to me, more intimate with me.
it worked, too. it really didn't seem like such a bad first name
when she would moan for me during sex. now the very thought of
anyone invoking that name during intercourse sickens me. it reminds
me of her and how pissed off i still am.
so, it's off to oregon tomorrow. i wonder how long it will take
before dana gets exasperated and requests a transfer? one case, two?
i'll try and make it easy on her. i'll behave. i'll try to get
along with her like a pal, like a brother. that should do it.
yeah, sure. i think i'll go take a cold shower. i already can't
get her out of my head...
Please send feedback to: firstname.lastname@example.org